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In flood-struck New Sundar, Jaya Bose plays an AR LitRPG that governs city permits. To win a real vendor license and free her stall from a guild’s monopoly, she must clear the Fogged Canal’s core. With a gifted glyph-ladle, a drone-crab, and a ferrywoman’s test, cooking becomes combat—and memory a weapon.
Before dawn, New Sundar held its breath. The tide licked the stilts beneath Jaya’s workshop, and the boards hummed with a low, familiar thrum from the battery rack. She ground turmeric and fenugreek with the heel of her hand and felt the grit warm her skin. A ceiling fan squeaked on every fourth turn. The smell of spice held the damp at bay.
She checked the cot in the corner. Her father had slid lower in his sleep, the blanket tangled around his legs, breath steady but thin. On the crate beside him, the clinic bottle lay on its side, a lone pill rattling against glass when the tram’s distant rumble made the wall vibrate.
Jaya set the mortar down. “We’ll fix this,” she whispered. To him or the room, she wasn’t sure.
She blinked and the overlay slid in: faint lines etching the air, icons docking to the edges of her vision. The city’s game layer—Guilds of the Estuary—came alive like mist taking shape. Street edges glowed faint, water lanes pulsed with soft arrows. Over her bench a translucent panel chimed: [System] Overlay engaged.
Her profile ghosted above the mortar, letters stitching themselves clean. [Profile] Jaya Bose — Level 5 Tinkerer-Cook (Hybrid). Focus 12, Agility 9, Spirit 10, Grit 11. Skills: Jury-Rig II, Spicecraft II, Boil I, Scan I, Dash I. Energy: Heat 60/60, Nerve 100/100.
On the wall, her license application blinked a polite red. She tapped it without lifting her hand, a tiny motion the optical ring caught. The denial unfolded in neat lines. [Civic Board] Vendor License: Rejected. Reason: Insufficient City Reputation; required rank: Vendor C. Options: Earn 5000 Rep or clear sanctioned challenge.
“Civic Board can eat kelp,” she muttered, wiping spice dust on her shorts.
From the window, the canal lay like a sleeping snake of black glass between shanties and clinic blocks. Farther out, the AR scaffold shimmered: a half-visible bridge of symbols and geometry hovering inches over real water. Fog pooled at the far bend, wrong in a way the overlay made obvious—static clung to it, and faint glyphs skittered like fish.
A message dropped into her queue, the sender tag a crane wing. Pasha Crane’s symbol. She winced and opened it anyway. [Consortium Notice] Dawn Market slots secured by Crane Co-op. Independent vendors are invited to apply as sub-tenants (fee 40%). “Or share forever,” she said, dry mouth turning bitter.
Footsteps creaked on the front steps. Auntie Pervez’s head popped in, scarf on crooked. “Girl? You’re up early. The rain will be hard by noon. Your papa—?”
“Asleep,” Jaya said. “I’ll bring soup later.”
“Hmm. I brought the good chilies.” Auntie set a paper twist of wrinkled red pods on the bench and eyed the overlay cursor tracing the air. “And trouble,” she added softly, seeing the red denial.
Jaya took a chili and bit the tip, letting the heat cut the damp in her chest. “Do you know the Fogged Canal event?”
Auntie’s brows pinched. “You’ll not run with those crane men.”
“I won’t run with them. I’ll run past them.” The words came out before she could temper them. The denial note hovered, louder than any tram.
Outside, a siren whined far across the water, then faltered. Jaya wiped her hands and pulled up the local map. The fog at the bend pulsed in time with her heart. [System] Challenge available: Fogged Canal—Core Node. Reward: Vendor C Permit, 5000 Rep. Status: monopolized (Crane Consortium). Timer: 48:00:00.
Her throat tightened like she’d swallowed the chili whole. “Forty-eight hours,” she said. Auntie clicked her tongue. “Forty-eight and foolish.” But when she left, there was a smile around the corners of her mouth that didn’t match the words.