The Heart Shop: Chapter Twenty-Three

Two days had passed since the encounter with the full-fledged Seed.

Cnaris was very displeased. He had to file a report to the Council because it was not an assigned task.

“Do you know how much paperwork I have to hand in?” he complained and descended into a half-hour-long tirade before spending the rest of the day in a foul temper.

Rin chose to escape. The afterimages of the burning town and the mechanical heart settled at the back of her mind like unwanted residue alongside the exhaustion that lingered even after an entire day of rest.

The Signon twins were recuperating in the Council hospital. Hayle – after sending her a paragraph of gratitude – had developed a tendency to chat with her, sending her texts now and then as though they were close friends.

The children trapped in the toy emporium were rescued and reunited with their families. The note that had arrived at her doorstep vanished along with the Seed – without a trace.

Osmanthus Street was gone.

The people of Pallin were made to believe that it was an abandoned place after a fire broke out many years ago.

The Seed’s influence spread like an irremovable plague that slowly planted roots in the hearts and minds of the townspeople and finally consumed them in their entirety. The non-refundable rule of the Heart Shop applied till the very end. There were many whose hearts were beyond salvaging, having sunken too deep into the abyss to be recovered. The Council searched the entire street, but all they found was old furniture and the remnants of belongings of the people who once lived there.

They’re long gone, Rin thought. Traded their hearts right down to the very last strands of their souls.

Those who took part in trades but did not lose all their hearts to the Seed were taken into custody by the Council. There had been no news of them since. The Council was determined to cover up the incident and made those involved swear a non-disclosure oath.

The presence of a Seed that was allowed to fester for such long periods, dealing irreparable damage to a community, left a bitter aftertaste. She wasn’t sure how much of it was their own will, or how much their wills were distorted by the presence of the Seed.

But wills were only easily bent if they were made that way.

On the third day, Kazu and Edwin dropped by. Cnaris greeted them with a look reminiscent of a ferocious pit bull – one that would have made cats flee across three yards. Mirelle stepped to their rescue and ushered him into his study.

The three of them lounged in Rin’s room with Mirelle’s signature shortbread and tea.

“In the end, he gained nothing from it. He wanted her to feel the pain and the resentment he felt, but,” Edwin said, biting into a shortbread, “he was gambling against the impossible. She didn’t even shed a tear when he died.”

“Maybe he just wanted to have a sense of purpose, and the Seed made use of that purpose against him, changing the original intent,” Kazu said, resting his chin against his hand.

Edwin shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. He could have just been a sadistic bastard from the start.”

Emilia was nowhere to be found. No one had spotted the mysterious man who collected the Seed’s core, either.

Rin glanced at Kazu, who was gazing out the windows, lost in thought. She recalled what he said about the sisters, how they called themselves people of Reverse.

Reverse – a name from children’s books. Rei used to read them to her when she was younger. She recalled not liking them for an unknown reason, and he stopped, but the story stuck somehow. It referred to the magic that was believed to govern time and space. Magic that recorded every event of the past and present. The character of the story tried to change the past by rewriting the story, but he got the sequel wrong, affecting others and eventually destroying the world.

It was dark, as far as children’s stories were concerned.

Rin wondered if it was the Reverse they meant. There had to be people who revered that kind of magic. After all, the acceptance of Seeds meant the refusal to acknowledge the past and the denial of the bitterness of the present.

It was hard to imagine that someone was out there making Seeds and giving them out like souvenirs.

“Do you think…” Rin began. They both turned to her. “That there might be a link between Seeds and Reverse?”

“Who knows? Even the Council doesn’t appear to know,” Edwin said, playing with the loose threads at the edge of the cushion, rocking his chair on its two front legs.

Or maybe they just didn’t want to reveal what they knew. After all, the Council held their secrets close. Hunters were only those in the outer rings, taking up jobs offered and carrying out their commands.

There was a brief silence.

Then, Edwin spoke. “We could’ve made a fortune if we destroyed the Seed’s core.”

Kazu nearly spat his tea. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

“You only care about money, don’t you?”

“Well, money is the essence of well-being, cat.” Edwin prodded Rin with shortbread, spilling crumbs over her sleeve. “Speaking of which, what did you trade at the Heart Shop?”

Kazu put his cup down, clearly interested.

Rin made a noncommittal gesture. “I asked for my father to stop bothering me with extra classes.”

“What?” Edwin’s chair teetered dangerously. “Are you for real? You give away a portion of your heart for that?” He burst out laughing.

“Shut up.” Rin flung a cushion at him, feeling heat rise in her face.

Kazu worked hard to keep his face straight. “I guess everyone has different views as to what holds value to them. So, did it work?”

“I don’t know. He just hasn’t…” Rin broke off and glared at them. “Look, I was just testing it out. I couldn’t possibly ask for something really important.” She kicked Edwin’s chair. “What would you ask for, then?”

“Me? I would’ve asked for a big house, complete with a garden, a pool…” Edwin thought for a moment before adding, “And a casino on the top floor. It shall rival the Lent house, and I’ll be able to host casino parties-”

“And you’ll end up heartless because it’ll cost a fortune,” Rin snapped.

“I thought you said it depends on how much value it has to you.”

“I think greed was the cause of the downfall,” Kazu began.

“He’s saying you’re greedy.”

Edwin let his chair fell onto all fours and shrugged. “I call it creativity. Yours is so bland he probably saw through you from the very start. How does it feel to lack one out of a hundredth of your heart?”

Rin nearly threw another cushion in his face. “I don’t think it granted my wish, so I probably didn’t lose anything.”

Outside, the sun started to set, casting an orange glow on the furniture. Mirelle came to invite them to dinner and just in time to stop cushions from being ripped apart.

Rin stayed back a little longer to tidy up. Her phone lit up – probably another text from Hayle.

The Seed had disappeared, but deep down, the feeling of unfinished business nagged at her.