Leo ran a small, struggling pawn shop, a place where broken dreams were exchanged for necessary cash. One day, a man walked in and placed a single coin on the counter.
It wasn't gold or standard currency. It was heavy silver, perfectly smooth on one side, and the other bore an intricate engraving of a crow holding a key.
"I need fifty dollars for this," the man said, his eyes hollow.
The man leaned in close. "It's a favor coin. Worth a life debt in certain circles."
Leo rolled his eyes but, feeling a strange pull from the heavy coin, he gave the man fifty dollars. The man vanished.
A week later, three thugs walked into the shop, kicking over a display case. They were looking for the man with the coin. Leo told them he was gone. They started to get rough.
Suddenly, the door opened. A woman, sharp-eyed and wearing a single crow feather earring, surveyed the scene. She looked at Leo, then at the empty spot where the coin had been.
"He used his marker here?" she asked Leo.
"I guess so," Leo stammered.
The woman nodded once, a gesture of finality. She turned to the thugs. "The debt is registered. The marker is paid. You leave this place alone, forever."
The thugs looked terrified. They didn't argue. They fled the shop.
The woman turned to Leo. "The debt is settled. You protected his collateral, so we protect yours." She walked out into the afternoon sun.
Leo picked up the fifty dollars the man had left behind. The coin was gone, but the promise lingered. Some currencies, he realized, had value far beyond any market price list.
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