Delirium

The wagon came to a halt before a large store, the largest one as far as I could see, three times as wide as the average one on the street. The merchant got down from the horse and approached us. “We’re here. Help move the bags into the storage room.”

Those words tripped off my danger alarm, since nothing had gone my way since I had arrived in this world. My sensitivity to sentences that implied awful possibilities had reached unprecedented heights. I gave an inquisitive look to Lyla, who responded by lowering her weapon, her eyes evading my gaze, an absolutely troubling sign of extreme guilt for her to abandon her hostility.

“All my coins were lost in the fire… So, I promised Mr. Topaz that we would work at his place as payment for the ride.”

“Work? But I’m a child!”

“So?” she answered so innocently that I wanted to jump off the wagon. Right, there were no child labor laws here.

“How long are we working here?”

“A month.”

“What are the benefits?”

“Benefits?” Lyla tilted her head, utterly unable to comprehend my question; clearly, her place of origin must not be a city. I tugged away at the thought that employee benefits might not exist in this world.

Luckily, that wasn’t the case. I got a more complete picture as soon as I gave up on this draining effort to glean any more information from Lyla and addressed Topaz (the merchant) instead. Lyla didn’t take this well; she somehow thought that a pout on her face would change my mind about whom to get the story from.

Topaz informed me of the complete terms of the contract. We would be given simple meals and small living quarters. In exchange, we had to help run the shop every day without rest. Not having to worry about food and shelter was an upside, but the work we had to put in was disproportionate to the short distance of the ride. Lyla had signed us up to an arrangement no better than slavery; at least we might not be physically abused.

Would this “employer” (a generous term to use since he wasn’t planning on paying us) really treat us well? I hadn’t noticed when only his back was visible, but there was an air of mystery to the merchant before us. His expression was gentle, though not without a sinister air drifting around him that threatened to devour anything in its path. Not even a trace of subtle hints regarding his inner thoughts was present.

To make things more eerie, I had the intuition that this person was not deliberately hiding his true self from us; rather, there was no inner truth to show. All these ill omens must have originated somewhere else.

Lyla and I transferred the bags of products into the storage room. By the time we were done, I had figured out the shop’s nature. It was a supermarket of sorts, or maybe you could call it a department store, since there was a variety of products ranging from dried food to wrist accessories. Judging by the looks of the items, a portion of them didn’t come cheap at all. This all raised another suspicion in my head: why would this merchant entrust his store to two individuals that he barely knew at all?

The bodyguard was strange too, as he stood by and waited for us to finish all the physical labor, when even the merchant himself was pitching in. All those muscles were going to waste. The merchant didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow, and it wasn’t because of the potential danger of robbery or thievery, as soldiers were already diligently patrolling the streets.

With the products settled, the merchant gave us general instructions on the operation of the shop, which was pretty much common sense to me, but Lyla was committing every word to her memory. The merchant also gifted me a brand-new set of outfits with shoes (I was wearing sandals the whole time). After that, the two of them left us alone.

“So, how did you survive the shifter’s attack?” I asked Lyla.

“I won’t tell you.”

“Then, at least tell me. How do people use magic?”

“You understand it to use it.” Great. Unhelpful answers again.

That was the extent of any conversation of substance that we had. We exchanged simple, pointless sentences occasionally in the afternoon. There were a few more questions I wanted to ask her, but she dodged talking about anything personal. It would be best to ask after we had grown closer.

The long day dragged to an end. No customer paid a visit. At first, I was on high alert, standing straight, ready for our first customer, but eventually, I found my face melting on the counter; we might as well have already closed for the day. Fiery orange light from the setting sun leaked through the door gap; only a little more time until we can officially close up shop.

Lyla was even more outrageous, daring to clean her bow while relaxing on a corner stool, but I wasn’t in the mood to point out to her that we should have been working; a conversation partner was better than hostile silence. At least she had the courtesy to change from her ineffective armor into an ivory chiton, a style reminiscent of that of ancient Greece.

“Don’t you think it is strange? There was no one tending the shop at all before we’d arrived.” I finally voiced my concerns. The questions regarding the merchant only multiplied as I thought about it more.

“I heard rumors that a curse had befallen the city,” she replied plainly.

“A curse? That could not be real.” Despite witnessing shapeshifters and telepathy, it didn’t mean I should believe all other supernatural rumors as they were. Learning more about them was by itself valuable, as it could provide clues as to the core psychological makeup of an average citizen here.

“Money was disappearing from circulation without a trace. Gold and silver kept vanishing in the chain of transactions, but official investigations got no closer to the truth. The strange part is that no one even claims to be the victim. Everyone claimed to have just spent their money at some point, but that didn’t stop the fact that the entire city got poorer and poorer.”

“Wow, you actually managed to explain such a complicated subject matter. Good job.”

“Shut up.”

The information Lyla gave me clarified the picture quite a bit. The merchant didn’t expect us to sell anything at all; he was only using us to keep the reputation of the store as one that would always stay open. No way he could delegate something important to someone he just met for the day. Then what was up with the supplies? Why would he stock up when he couldn’t even sell the current batch of products?

There was no use speculating; perhaps I could ask him directly the next time I came across him, but would he really answer me? A random kid whom he had met somewhere, whom he had given a “job” on a whim. My gaze fell on a bowl of dried grapes on display on the shelf behind me. I’m so hungry. A foreign thought once again overwhelmed me.

My stomach growled to announce its desires, as if a sharp void had burst within to empty up the contents pending digestion, so hunger reigned over me and hijacked my actions. My hands stretched out to the bowl targeted by my primal urges.

“What are you doing?” Lyla seemed to have noticed my strange demeanor. She stopped her cleaning and eyed me cautiously.

“Relax. They would think that some customers had visited. Also, didn’t they say that meals would be provided?” I tried keeping my tone casual to avoid alluding to anything strange; perhaps deep down, I knew my conduct would violate some laws.

“Stop it. They will check the inventory and realize something is missing. Then, they can punish you for violating the contract.” Lyla’s voice was serious, but she didn’t know whether I would actually eat it.

“How would they know? Even actual money could disappear. Also, this should not be worth much.” Slowly and steadily, my hand edged towards the bowl. The human visual system has a loophole called change blindness, so with low enough speed, you could essentially fool others into believing you were staying still.

Evidently, my movements weren’t subtle enough, probably because of the intense hunger within that only grew by the second. Lyla dropped her equipment and launched herself at me. My half-second of hesitation was all she needed to tackle me onto the floor.

“Let me go!” I struggled and yelled. “This is child abuse! Neglect! Human rights violation! War crime!”

“Stop making up words and listen to me,” Lyla uttered the warning while she pressed my head onto the ground. Her intense voice trampled my insults and whining. The glint in her eyes transformed into that of a hunter, an intensity that caused me to quiet down. “Explain to me what is happening. You are acting immature right now.” She continued.

“I am hungry. I’m starving.”

Lyla raised her fist and clenched her teeth; the folds that appeared on her face made her look as if she had aged fifty years (human years). “Perfect. I heard that people in pain feel less hungry.” Her threat chased my soul out of my body a little. She surveyed my pathetic expression and sighed. Her fist softened, and her arm returned to ease. Guess she did have a tiny sliver of conscience left.

She rested her palm on my face. “Clarity,” she whispered in a precisely audible voice, as if on a direct broadcast to my auditory cortex. And her hand glowed.

There was a brief silence; I said “brief”, but I felt an eternity had passed. Every slightest trace of my actions became exaggerated stunts to me, and a vivid image arose in my mind that a powerful gust of wind had blown open the thick tarp that covered my self-reflection.

What I was doing was abnormal. Impulsive. With the same intensity that an anorexic would push away food, I tried to claw my way to a meager number of pellets that would hardly make a dent in satisfying my hunger; the hunger that was likely the consequence of my link to a child hiding in one of the alleys, a price to pay for my newfound oracy.

To halt this behavior may require much more than willpower. In the first place, avoiding attention to the temptation was part of the self-control process, but when the deafening desire for food was plastered all over my inner world, the only solution was to cut the sound off from the source, by finding the child and feeding them.

“I’ve established a link to a hungry child. That is why I’m able to speak again. It’s all because that person can do so too.” I said calmly, parading the return of my rationality, but Lyla didn’t trust me enough to let go yet.

“We could get an early dinner using the meal tokens that Mr. Topaz gave us.” There were meal tokens? What else had she been hiding from me? Or maybe this lurking hunger had been influencing my attention and logical thinking more than I thought.

“I don’t think that would work.”

“Why not?”

“If my deduction is correct, I will stay hungry even if I finish a whole royal course by myself.” I had no clue if such a “royal course” even existed, but I needed a grand analogy to bring my point across.

Lyla gazed at me, but she didn’t speak or move. Motionless as a statue.

The lack of response was getting concerning, so I spoke up. “Why did you agree to the contract? Surely you have better things to do than to play store clerk.” Still no reply from her. “When we were touring the streets, I couldn’t see anyone else with pointy ears like you.”

This got a reaction out of her, but not the one I wanted; instead, the temperature of her gaze dropped at least a few degrees, and her grip tightened a little. “Where are you going with this?” Her tone was much colder and more distant.

I tried my best to smile, but my facial muscles didn’t seem to move as I commanded. “I’m not trying to insult you. That was only my observation. The chain of thought leads me to conclude that you probably had a purpose in coming to this place. And it is probably not working in this store.” I gulped as I replied. It was a grave misstep for me to bring this up.

Then, the pressure on me vanished. Lyla stood up, sweeping dust off her garment. She offered her hand and helped me up.

“So, all we have to do is find that troublemaker,” she said.