As he neared the stalls, the energy of the area rose again, closer to what he had seen the previous day. The screens had come alive, drawing attention, while the stalls worked at full pace. Evan moved toward Rovan's stall.
Rovan spotted him as he approached, his hands deftly moving through another order. He gave a brief nod of acknowledgment before gesturing toward the side with his chin. "You're on," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "My brother agreed. Start there."
Evan stepped around the counter and into the working space, the shift was immediate. The layout made sense at a glance. Ingredients arranged within reach, tools placed for quick use, finished portions moving out as fast as they were prepared. Rovan pointed once toward a stack of prepared components. "Make sure to keep these stocked," Rovan instructed. "When they start to run low, refill them from the back. And pay attention to how I portion everything out."
Evan nodded and moved to the task, lifting a tray of cut vegetables and setting them within reach of the main pan. He observed the way Rovan worked, the sequence of motion, scoop, portion, add, finish. Each step flowed into the next without pause. When a gap opened, Evan mirrored the process on a smaller scale, following the same order, adjusting his pace to match the demand.
The first few minutes required full attention, his hands moving carefully as he learned the sequence. The rhythm of the work built quickly around him, customers arriving, orders passing, coin exchanged in short, efficient motions. Evan stayed with it, focusing on accuracy first, letting speed come as he grew more familiar with the process.
Rovan worked beside him without slowing, his movements precise as he handled the main flow of orders. "Don't rush it," he said as Evan portioned a bowl. "Get it right first. Speed comes after." He tapped lightly on the edge of the tray. "Make sure to keep the amounts even," Rovan advised. "People tend to notice if there's a difference."
Evan adjusted his next portion, paying closer attention to how much he added, how it was placed. The difference showed immediately. The bowl looked more balanced, each element fitting together rather than scattered. He passed it forward, watching how Rovan finished it with a quick addition of sauce before handing it off.
As the minutes passed, Evan's movements grew more confident. He reached for ingredients without hesitation, refilling trays when they ran low, stepping in to assist where needed. The pace increased, though he held onto the sequence he had learned, keeping each action deliberate.
Customers moved through steadily, some pausing briefly, others taking their food and moving on without a word. The work demanded attention, though it carried a flow that made time pass quickly. Evan stayed with it, learning through repetition, each cycle building on the last as the stall ran at full pace.
Between orders, Evan's attention drifted upward more than once, drawn to the arena screens just beyond the stall line. A match had started, two fighters circling, their movements sharp even from a distance. He caught fragments, a step, a shift in stance, the angle of a strike, before his focus snapped back to the work in front of him. He adjusted a portion, passed it forward, then glanced again when the sound of the crowd rose slightly.
The pattern repeated through the hour. Work, observe, return. Each time he looked up, he tried to take something specific from it. Foot placement. Timing. How one fighter created space while the other closed it. This was one of the reasons he had accepted the job so quickly; it offered him the chance to earn some coin while also learning valuable skills. He was improving on both fronts, gaining experience while filling his pockets.
At one point, he held his gaze a fraction too long. A clean exchange played out on the screen, one fighter slipping past a guard with a controlled turn. Evan watched it through its full motion, his hands pausing just long enough to fall behind the next order.
Rovan's voice interrupted, calm but firm. "Keep your eyes here," he said, sliding a bowl toward Evan. "You can observe when there isn't a line of people waiting or when things aren't so hectic. Focus on that for now." His tone carried no irritation, just correction. Evan nodded once and moved immediately, picking up the pace to match the flow again, his attention returning fully to the stall as the work continued.
Evan adjusted after that, keeping his focus on the stall while still taking brief, controlled glances when the pace allowed it. He began to anticipate the flow of orders, recognizing when a gap would open for a second or two. In those moments, his eyes lifted, catching a fragment of the fight before returning to his hands. It became part of the rhythm of work, timed rather than impulsive.
A sequence on the screen drew his attention during one of those brief pauses. A fighter shifted weight onto the back foot before stepping forward at an angle, turning the opponent's strike aside instead of meeting it directly. Evan watched the movement once, then repeated it in his mind, mapping it.
He returned to the stall and adjusted a portion without looking down for long, his hands moving with more confidence now. The work no longer required full concentration for every step. Some of it had begun to settle into familiarity, allowing him to divide his attention without losing accuracy.
Rovan glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to the pan. "That's better," he said with a nod of approval. "If you keep it like this, you won't fall behind." His tone carried approval, quiet and brief, before the next order pulled his attention away again.
The midday flow held steady rather than overwhelming, a constant stream that kept them working without pause. Customers came in small clusters, enough to keep every station active, though there was still room to think between movements. Evan found his place within it, refilling trays, portioning bowls, and stepping in where needed without being told each time. The pace demanded attention, though it allowed him to keep control over what he was doing.
Between those cycles, his awareness of the screens stayed measured. He looked up only when his hands were clear, catching brief exchanges before returning to the stall. The fights unfolded in fragments for him, though even those fragments carried value. A shift in stance, a delayed strike, a controlled retreat. Each piece added to what he had seen earlier.
Rovan worked beside him with the same consistency, his movements unchanged as the hours passed. "Afternoon picks up more," he said at one point, sliding a finished bowl forward. "Then it slows. Night rush comes again after evening hours. That's when it gets crowded."
Evan nodded, taking the information in as he continued working. It gave shape to the day beyond what he had already seen. A steady middle, then heavier pressure later. He adjusted his pace slightly, preparing for the shift while maintaining the flow they had now.
As the hours moved closer to mid-afternoon, the pace began to shift. The line grew longer, gaps between orders disappearing as more people arrived at once. Voices overlapped, requests coming quicker, the space tightening with the flow of people. Evan felt it immediately, the need to move faster without losing accuracy pressing into each action.
He adjusted, reaching for ingredients, portioning with more confidence as his hands followed the sequence he had practiced. The earlier caution gave way to cleaner motion, his focus narrowing to the task in front of him. He passed bowls forward in a steady flow, stepping aside just enough to allow Rovan to finish and serve without interruption.
The noise around them rose with the crowd, the screens drawing more attention as matches intensified. Evan caught only brief flashes now, a strike, a step, the outcome of an exchange before his attention returned to the stall. The work demanded more of him, leaving little room for anything else.
Rovan moved alongside him without slowing, his voice cutting through the noise just enough to guide. "Keep your spacing," he said once. "Don't crowd the counter." Evan adjusted immediately, shifting his position to maintain flow as the rush continued, holding his place within the growing intensity of the afternoon.
The rush held for a while before easing in gradual steps, the line thinning as people moved away toward their own routines. The space around the stall opened again, the pressure lifting just enough to breathe without urgency. Evan slowed his pace slightly, though he kept his movements precise, finishing the remaining orders without letting the flow break.
He wiped his hands and reached for a tray that had run low, refilling it from the back while the flow steadied. The earlier intensity lingered in his body, his arms carrying the work, his legs holding the hours he had spent on his feet. It did not feel overwhelming. It felt like something he could maintain.
Rovan glanced at him briefly, then gave a short nod. "You kept up," he said. "Most don't on the first day." His tone remained even, though the approval was clear. He turned back to the pan, continuing with the next order without pause.
Evan acknowledged it with a small nod of his own and returned to the task, his attention shifting between the work and the space around him. The afternoon had shown him what the pace could become. He held onto that, preparing for the evening ahead while the stall moved through the quieter stretch in between.
The quieter stretch carried them through the later afternoon, giving space to reset the stall. Evan restocked trays, refilled ingredients, and wiped down the work surface, learning where everything belonged through repetition rather than instruction. The movements became easier with each pass, his hands finding the right place without searching.
Rovan worked alongside him, adjusting the heat, preparing fresh batches for the evening. "This part matters too," he said, gesturing briefly to the setup. "If you're ready before the rush, you don't fall behind when it hits." His tone remained practical, focused on the work.
Evan nodded and continued, aligning what he had read earlier with what he was doing now. Consistency. Preparation. It applied here as much as it did in training. He finished arranging the last tray and stepped back slightly, checking the setup before moving to the next task.
As the light began to shift toward evening, more people started to gather again around the arena. The screens drew attention once more, the sound building gradually. Evan noticed it as he worked, the atmosphere changing in stages, signaling the approach of the second rush of the day.
By the time the flow began to build again, the angle of the light had shifted enough to mark the end of his hours. Evan wiped his hands one last time and stepped back from the counter, glancing briefly at Rovan. "I'll head out," he said.
Rovan gave a short nod without pausing his work. "Be here tomorrow," he replied. "Same time." The stall was already moving toward the evening rush, the pace picking up as more people gathered.
Evan stepped away from the stall and moved through the edge of the crowd, stopping at a nearby stand to grab something quick. A small wrap and a cup of light brew, enough to carry him through the next stretch. He ate while walking, keeping it simple, his body already aware of the fatigue from the hours of standing and work.
After finishing, he found a quieter spot near the outer edge of the district and sat for a few minutes. The rest was brief, just enough to ease the strain in his legs and shoulders. When he stood again, his direction shifted toward the training hall, the next part of the day already waiting.