Run: 2026-02-22-01KJ375QMD50PG58TPPM0GN1VZ

You are an expert prose editor. Whenever you're given text, rephrase it using the following instructions: <instructions>Rename the following locations: 'the market square' to 'the harbor plaza', 'the market' to 'the harbor', 'the outer ring' to 'the lower ward', 'the bridge' to 'the ferry crossing', 'the northern mines' to 'the eastern quarries'.</instructions> Imitate and keep the current writing style, and leave mannerisms, word choice and sentence structure intact. Keep the same stylistic writing choices. Use English spelling and grammar. Only return the rephrased text, nothing else.

Text to rewrite: <text words="381"> The market square buzzed with the sound of a hundred voices. Elena pushed through the crowd, her satchel clutched against her chest. She knew the merchant would not wait — he never waited for anyone, least of all a girl from the outer ring. "You're late," Gregor said, without looking up from his ledger. He ran a thick finger down a column of numbers and frowned. Elena set the package on the counter. "The bridge was out. I had to take the long way around." "Not my problem." He unwrapped the cloth and held the crystal up to the light. It caught the sun and threw tiny rainbows across the stall's canvas roof. Gregor's frown deepened. "This isn't what I ordered." She had expected this. The old man always found something to complain about, whether the goods were perfect or not. Elena crossed her arms and stood her ground. "It's exactly what you ordered," she said. "Blue quartz, uncut, from the northern mines. I watched them pull it from the rock myself." Gregor turned the crystal slowly, examining every facet. He brought it close to his eye, then held it at arm's length. Elena thought he looked like a jeweler appraising a diamond, though Gregor dealt in stranger things than jewelry. He set the crystal down and sighed. "Fine. But next time, wrap it properly. The edges are exposed." He reached beneath the counter and produced a small leather pouch. The coins inside clinked as he slid it toward her. Elena scooped up the pouch and weighed it in her palm. It felt light. She loosened the drawstring and counted: eight silver crowns. They had agreed on ten. "We agreed on ten," she said flatly. "That was before the bridge fee went up." Gregor smiled — a thin, practiced smile that never reached his eyes. "Take it or leave it." She took it. She always took it. The outer ring didn't offer many choices, and Gregor knew that as well as she did. Elena walked out of the market and into the narrow lanes beyond. The sun hung low over the rooftops, and the shadows stretched long across the cobblestones. She slipped the pouch into her satchel and quickened her pace. If she hurried, she would reach the bridge before dark. </text>