Ai stepped softly into the library, her bag hugged tightly against her side. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows between the towering shelves. Her footsteps echoed faintly across the floor as she navigated the maze of aisles with practiced ease—until she reached it.
Aisle F.
She paused, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, then moved toward the sixth shelf.
Her brows furrowed.
There were dozens of books lined neatly along the shelf. Philosophy, metaphysics, temporal science, even classic literature. A few students were murmuring in the distance, but no one paid attention to her.
"Okay… Sixth shelf. But what exactly am I supposed to find?" she whispered.
Her eyes scanned the spines—nothing unusual stood out. No strange symbols. No bookmarks or folded edges.
She stared at the riddle in her notebook again, muttering softly under her breath.
"Consider well each helping trace…"
She paused. Something clicked.
"Helping trace…" she repeated.
Her eyes widened slightly. She stepped back, as if seeing the puzzle from a different angle.
"The hand. It helped me twice."
Her voice was hushed but urgent.
"Once in the library before—when I was reaching for that book on algorithms. And once again during that weird equation problem at the bench."
She looked up, her breath catching.
"So… the second help…"
Her gaze rose to the top shelf.
Second from the left.
There it was.
A book she had never picked herself, but the memory was sharp—its cover a deep blue, brushed with silver glyph-like etchings.
"Tale of Time."
She stood on her toes and carefully slid it from the shelf, dust fluttering from the edges.
It felt heavier than expected. Solid. Meaningful.
She turned it in her hands. It looked old—but well-kept, like it had been deliberately preserved. She flipped through the first few pages. Nothing odd—just prefaces, table of contents…
Then, tucked between pages 34 and 35—
A piece of black paper, folded sharply in half.
Her pulse quickened.
She unfolded it slowly, almost reverently.
There, scrawled in silver ink with the same elegant, cryptic handwriting:
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥,
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥,
𝘚𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭,
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘭.
𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥,
𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 '𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.
𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘢 𝘷𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘦,
𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
:)
"Creepy," Ai muttered as she saw that smiley face again.
Beneath it, the hourglass mark again, clearer this time—almost etched into the paper rather than drawn.
Ai's fingers trembled slightly.
---
Ai held the black paper up now, just above her desk, silver eyes scanning the lines slowly. The room around her was silent but for the faint ticking of the wall clock.
The world outside her window was still soaked in soft post-rain grayness. She took a breath and began to read aloud.
"One…" she said under her breath, as though grounding herself.
"Where wings take flight on hopeful hand,"
The words shimmered faintly.
"Hopeful hand," she murmured, sitting back.
"Someone's hand… feeding birds?"
A memory surfaced—one of old women tossing seed on park benches, of children laughing as flocks of pigeons scattered skyward, feathers catching the sun like falling snow. She tapped the table gently. The connection felt strong.
"Two," she continued aloud.
"And crumbs become a feathered band,"
"Crumbs… a flock drawn by food."
Her mind mapped it out automatically, a subconscious flow chart forming in her thoughts. Crumbs = food. Birds = gather. Band = group. So a place where people feed birds, and in return, birds gather.
Her lips curved faintly.
"Three," she said quietly, almost reverently.
"Seek green where voices chirp and call,"
"Green. So, trees. A park?"
That clinched it.
There was only one place nearby that matched: Yomogi Park. Large, filled with dense greenery and wide walking paths, known for its trees and the melodic chaos of birdsong.
She stood up, walking toward the window. The drizzle had stopped. The last of the spring rain left shimmering puddles on the pavement, and the scent of damp earth floated upward.
"Four," Ai continued softly.
"And kindness waits for one and all."
Her eyes lingered on the faint glint of golden light as the clouds finally began to part. That line had weight. It wasn't just description—it was character.
A park that invited kindness, that felt like community. She remembered the way neighborhood kids brought crumbs, how elderly folks watched over strays, how everyone, no matter how alone, seemed a little less so when they were there.
She exhaled slowly and turned back toward the note.
"Five," she read aloud
.
"Though common kin you'll see abound,"
"Meaning… there'll be a lot of normal birds."
"Six,"
"For beauty rare, keep looking 'round."
So it wouldn't be obvious. She had to look past the familiar. Past the noise. Something rare and different.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Seven,"
"A silent grace, a vibrant hue,"
That sealed it—she was meant to find something unique. Quiet, striking in color. Not moving. Watching. Waiting.
"Eight." Her voice was barely a whisper now.
"Holds secrets meant for only you."
She stared at the final line, heart beat subtly faster. The riddle was meant for her.
After a moment of silence, she picked up her phone and walked into the living room, where her father sat nursing a cup of tea and frowning at his computer screen.
He looked up as she entered.
"Done already?" he asked.
"Not exactly still have some stuff to do." Ai said as she was about to leave but her father's voice caught her.
"You look worried about something from past few days is everything alright?" He asked his voice worried and soft.
Ai turned around with a smile, "Everything is fine it's just the exams are a huge burden and problem."
Her father nodded, "yes, you're right. Exams make us worried and all."
"But..." He continued his eyes mesmerizing something old, "After your mother I raised you alone and I'm afraid at many points I wasn't enough."
Ai walked closer to him and sat down, she held his hand, "Dad, you're a great father and besides I never once thought you weren't enough for me."
Her father put a hand on her hand, "Thank you and oh I'm sorry if I stopped you, you were going somewhere, right?"
Ai got up and shook her hand him dismiss, "Well it's almost night, I'll see to this tomorrow no worries."
"Then should I cook the dinner?" Her father asked and Ai nodded.
"I'm watching TV for a while till you make it," Ai sat down with the remote as her father went into the kitchen.
---
The night, a shimmering tapestry of neon signs and the murmur of a million voices, brushed against Zazm's face.
His slightly long, dark hair danced in the artificial breeze as he sat on the edge of a Shinjuku skyscraper, the skeletal steel of the unfinished construction a stark contrast to the vibrant life teeming below.
From this height, the relentless energy of the city felt strangely subdued, the car horns and distant chatter blending into a low, persistent hum.
Zazm's hollow eyes, windows to a history that clung to him like a persistent shadow, surveyed the glittering sprawl. They held a profound fatigue, a weight that spoke of experiences far beyond his apparent age.
"Not as planned," he murmured, his voice a low, almost inaudible hum against the night. He shifted slightly on the cool metal ledge.
"She is smarter than I thought but still she lacks a few things."
His gaze drifted downwards, as if he could see through the layers of buildings to a specific point within the urban maze.
"Would she be able to do it?"
A flicker of doubt crossed his features, quickly replaced by a hard resolve.
"No, the time is ticking. If something were to happen, I'll intervene."
For a second he paused and then a smirk appeared on his face, "what am I even worried for? It's fine! Besides...."
He let out a small laugh as he got up standing on top of the building, the world below looked completely blurred due to lights.
"Nantoka naru shi kore wa tanoshii!"
It'll work out somehow and this is so fun!
He said with a smirk as he jumped down from the building with his hands spread.
---
The next day had already begun and today Ai was determined to find what does this riddle means.
Yomogi Park welcomed her with its usual sleepy charm. The air was heavy with petrichor—the sharp-sweet scent of rain mingling with grass and bark. The pathways were still slick, and puddles mirrored the pale-blue sky now clearing overhead.
Spring was soft here. Leaves glistened. Blossoms not yet bloomed waited on the cusp of color. The wind, light and chill, whispered through the branches.
Ai walked past the entrance sign, her dark coat fluttering slightly behind her. Her boots were quiet against the damp gravel. She saw them right away—the usual park dwellers.
On a bench beneath a willow tree, an elderly woman sat wrapped in a cream shawl, feeding pigeons from a brown paper bag. Sparrows fluttered near her shoes. Ai hesitated, then approached.
"Excuse me," she said softly.
The woman turned, eyes curious and kind.
"Yes, dear?"
Ai gestured toward the pigeons. "Do you come here often to feed them?"
The woman chuckled. "Every morning. They expect me now. It's a mutual arrangement."
"Have you seen… any unusual birds lately? Something… colorful?"
The woman blinked, then nodded. "Strange you'd ask. Just yesterday, I saw the oddest little thing. Like a jewel with feathers. Didn't fly, just sat in that tree." She pointed down the path. "It watched me the whole time."
Ai felt her breath hitch.
"Did it come back today?"
The woman shook her head. "Haven't seen it since. But it felt… intelligent. Not scared. Like it was waiting."
Ai bowed. "Thank you."
"Looking for something, dear?"
Ai hesitated and slightly embarrassed said, "I think… it's looking for me."
The woman laughed gently. "Well, I hope you find each other."
The area she'd pointed toward was quiet—no benches, just a winding trail that curved near the koi pond and dipped beneath a veil of trees. The world seemed to hush as Ai entered it.
No footsteps. No voices.
Just the sound of dripping water and a single birdcall overhead.
And then—there it was.
Perched upon a low branch of a leafless cherry tree, almost invisible from the trail if you weren't looking for it.
The bird.
It was small, perhaps the size of a dove, but its colors were unnatural—no, unreal. Shimmering with violet, turquoise, and faint trails of gold, like ink marbled through silk. Its eyes were dark and still. It made no sound. It didn't fly.
It watched.
Ai froze.
A faint breeze passed through, and the bird's feathers rippled ever so slightly, glinting like gems.
She stepped closer.
Its neck shifted—and there, nearly hidden beneath the plumage, was a thin, near-invisible string.
Ai knelt slowly, heart quickening.
Tied to the string was a tiny rolled note, smaller than a matchstick.
The bird didn't move. It only tilted its head, as if presenting itself.
Ai reached out, hands shaking, and gently pulled the string. The note came loose in her fingers.
And then, without warning or sound, the bird flew.
It lifted effortlessly into the air, climbing through the branches and vanishing beyond the canopy with a single burst of color and light.
Ai remained crouched, eyes fixed on the place it had been.
Then, she slowly opened the note.
The parchment inside was translucent, like a petal from a ghost flower. The writing shimmered faintly, in the same silver ink.
𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵,
𝘎𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦.
𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦,
𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦,
T𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴,
𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴.
𝘚𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘵, 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘦,
𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳.
Beneath the lines was a symbol. A single circle bisected by two vertical lines—simple, clean, strange. Like an ancient sigil. Or a lock waiting to be turned.
Ai sat down on a nearby stone. The sound of the world slowly returned—wind through the grass, distant laughter, the rustle of wings.
She stared at the symbol.
She could feel it.
The stir of something beyond comprehension. A thread pulling her forward.
"Now what the hell does this mean?" She said glancing at the note again.
"What type of philosophical person am I dealing with?" She said as she put her arm on her head and leaned back.
---
Ai Hoshino stood in front of her desk, her textbooks still open, pens and highlighters strewn like debris from a storm.
Her eyes drifted from a half-finished problem set to the small note she'd found earlier—delivered by a bird of all things, tied delicately around its tiny neck. Who delivered riddles via birds these days? She didn't even know birds could be trained like that.
With a sigh, she unfolded the note once more. It was written in neat, curly script—almost too poetic for something that sounded suspiciously like a fancy advertisement.
"Your clever mind has shone so bright,
Now treat yourself, embrace the city's light.
Where treasures gleam and wallets take a flight,
Go wander free, and let your spirit ignite."
Ai read it aloud, raising one brow. "Ah yes, the classic 'you studied too hard, go buy something shiny' speech. Truly the spirit of capitalism."
The rest of the note was more cryptic:
"But heed this whisper, soft upon the breeze,
Where numbers guard the entering with ease,
The second mouth the metal walls possess,
Holds bargains sweet, and maybe something less.
So rest your feet, let curious eyes explore,
And keep them peeled beyond that numbered door."
Ai rubbed her temple. "Second mouth? Metal walls? What is this, a shopping mall or the digestive tract of a robot?"
Still, she couldn't deny the tug of curiosity. And a break did sound nice, especially after the relentless week of mock exams and study marathons.
Ai was a firm believer in schedules, but even her planner had a small slot labeled 'pretend to enjoy life for 45 minutes'.
She slipped into her hoodie, grabbed her tote bag, and headed out.
The city was alive with the gentle chaos of a Saturday afternoon. Neon lights blinked in friendly rhythm, the sky a pale blue canvas marbled with drifting clouds.
When she arrived at the sprawling shopping center—an architectural behemoth of steel, glass, and polished concrete—it was easy to see why the riddle had pointed her here.
"Metal walls," she mumbled, eyeing the shiny exterior. "Check."
There were indeed numbered entrances. Big, bright signs marked them: GATE 1, GATE 2, GATE 3. Each gate was flanked by rotating glass doors and crowds ebbing in and out like waves.
She stared at Gate 2. The second mouth.
"This better not be one of those metaphorical doors to self-discovery," she muttered as she walked in.
Inside, she was immediately hit by a cocktail of smells: buttery popcorn, sizzling street snacks, overpriced essential oils, and the aggressive spritzing of perfume samples.
Ai roamed aimlessly at first, letting herself drift between stores like a leaf on the tide. A bookstore tempted her with colorful covers. A game shop briefly distracted her. At one point, she spent a good five minutes trying to decipher whether a lamp in a home decor store was genius or hideous.
She passed by a perfume shop she often visited—it was called Petal & Flame, a pretentious name for a place that always offered a 20% student discount.
Ai stepped in, partially out of habit. As usual, the air inside was thick with overlapping fragrances: floral, musky, citrusy, all of them trying to outcompete one another.
She picked up a new lavender-rose hybrid and gave it a sniff.
"Oof," she said, recoiling slightly. "Who asked for romance and grandma to be bottled together?"
Still, she made her purchase—a light vanilla-sandalwood mist—and exited with a satisfied nod.
That's when she noticed it.
A strange smell. Sharp. Metallic. Not perfume.
Ai paused near the exit. "Okay... what is that?"
She turned her head. A few meters to the right, barely noticeable through a side hallway, was a cordoned-off area. Yellow tape stretched lazily across a path leading to a fenced-off zone behind the mall.
Parked next to it—massive, dull silver, and definitely out of place—was a gas tanker.
Her eyes narrowed. Maybe there was construction happening. Maybe the smell was just from some industrial cleaner or another shop's scent blending poorly with the one she'd just bought. But something didn't sit right.
And then—for a split second—she saw it.
The bird.
Perched atop the gas tanker.
Ai blinked.
Gone.
Her breath caught. "No way..."
The riddle's words came back to her in a rush:
"But heed this whisper, soft upon the breeze..."
Caution. A warning.
She looked back at the cordoned area. Off-limits. Cameras above. But no actual personnel nearby. Just silence.
"I really shouldn't," she whispered.
But her feet had already moved.
Slipping past the barrier was easier than she expected. A broken segment of tape fluttered, invitingly ignored. She kept her head down, hoodie up, and walked briskly along the side.
The smell grew stronger the closer she got.
By the time she reached the tanker, her nose was burning.
"Okay, definitely not perfume," she muttered, covering her mouth with her sleeve. "This is gas. And it's leaking."
She crouched, eyes scanning the base of the tanker. A faint hiss reached her ears.
"Oh god."
Behind her were rows of floral shops—The Fragrant Bloom, Lily & Lace, Scented Seasons. All masking the gas leak with heavy flower smells and air fresheners.
"No wonder no one noticed," Ai whispered. "This is a time bomb."
Panic itched at the back of her mind. But Ai Hoshino didn't panic. She planned.
She whipped out her phone, dialing emergency services.
Twenty minutes later, fire trucks and hazard-suited professionals crowded the scene. Shoppers peered from balconies, confused and curious.
Ai stood nearby, clutching her tote bag, quietly explaining the situation to a police officer.
"You say you noticed the smell right after exiting the perfume store?"
"Yes. It didn't match any scent from inside. Then I saw the tanker and... I know it sounds weird, but something just felt off."
The officer gave her a long look, then nodded. "Good instincts. You might've prevented a major disaster."
She didn't say it aloud, but Ai had no doubt that if the gas had gone undetected a few more hours, the heat or a stray spark could have caused a massive explosion.
A young officer walked up to her. "You saved a lot of lives today," he said, sincere and almost reverent.
Ai blinked. "I... did?"
"Yes. If it weren't for your quick thinking, this could've been a disaster."
Ai nodded numbly. "Right."
They left her alone soon after. Shoppers slowly returned, unaware how close they'd come to catastrophe.
She started walking.
Her thoughts spiraled.
Who gave her that clue? Why didn't they just say, "Hey, gas leak. Fix it"? Why the riddles, the cryptic messages?
They clearly knew what was happening. They could've stopped it themselves.
So why make her do it?
She scuffed her shoe along the tiled floor, eyes unfocused. The mall's lights flickered above her. Something tugged at the back of her mind.
"They didn't want to stop it. They wanted me to stop it."
But why?
Why pull her into this?
And then she noticed it. The mall looked... different.
No music. No voices. No security guards. The crowds were gone.
Every notice board had been stripped. The loud chatter from the food court had vanished. Even the hum of advertisements had fallen silent.
Ai spun in place.
"What the—? Where is everyone?"
She looked back, tried retracing her steps. Nothing.
Did she go the wrong way?
Had she wandered into an off-limits area?
She turned around, started to leave. That's when she heard it.
A voice.
Smooth. Familiar. With a rhythm that stirred a cold realization in her stomach.
"You saved quite a lot of lives today, Ai Hoshino."
Her heart stopped.
The voice from the bench that day.
The one that helped her solve the equation.
The one behind the riddles.
"I admit," he continued, "for a second, I worried you'd be late. But thankfully, you're smarter than even I expected."
Ai didn't turn around.
She kept staring straight ahead, her breath slow and even.
"Who are you?" she asked.
The voice chuckled.
But gave no answer.
The figure tilted its head.
"Turn around."
Ai hesitated, her back half-turned. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but logic whispered to listen. She took a deep breath and slowly turned to face the figure.
But the world wasn't the same anymore.
The shopping mall had truly vanished. Now she stood in the middle of a dreamscape—pure grass underfoot, an unbroken skyline above. A single tree stood far in the distance, its leaves rustling as if applauding.
The man at the table remained seated. His hair was slightly long, gently tousled by wind that didn't exist a moment ago. His face, however, was obscured by an unnatural black haze—as though some divine censor refused to let her see who he really was.
Still, Ai found her voice.
"Who are you?"
She paused.
No, that wasn't the question. Not anymore.
"…What are you?"
The man chuckled, a sound neither mocking nor cruel—just amused. He tapped his fingers rhythmically against the table.
"What do you mean?" he asked softly.
"You're not human," Ai said. Her voice was steady, but her knees felt like glass.
The figure tilted his head again, amused. "Wrong."
He tapped once more, then said, "The one sitting in front of you is just another lowly and pathetic creature we all know as human."
Ai narrowed her eyes.
"No human could pull all this off. The riddles, the voice, this place none of it's normal."
"Ah," he said, raising a finger.
"You're right. It's not normal. But we are not normal."
Ai blinked. "We?"
The man gestured gently to the chair opposite him. "Take a seat. You've earned answers."
Still wary, Ai gripped the back of the chair and slowly sat, never taking her eyes off the black void that masked his face.
"Let me tell you a story," he began. "There are some among humanity who aren't bound by its limits. They're born like everyone else… but one day out of nowhere they awakened to something greater."
Ai furrowed her brow, listening intently.
"We call them Catalysts—not because they cause change, but because they become the change itself. Pivots around which fate, time, and existence may bend."
His voice was calm, but each word slithered through her mind like coded instructions she couldn't decode.
"Catalysts possess gifts. Some command the elements. Some twist reality. Some can walk between possibilities like hallways."
Ai's heart thudded.
He leaned forward slightly.
"And you, Ai… are one of them."
Silence.
The wind stilled. The sky seemed to freeze.
Ai stood up, her chair scraping against the ground.
"You're lying."
The figure remained seated, still relaxed.
"What would I gain from lying to you?" he asked, shrugging slightly.
"You expect me to believe I have… powers? That I'm not what, normal?"
"You've never been normal," he replied gently.
"You just can't use them yet."
Ai's lips parted, but nothing came out.
"I'm a student," she said flatly. "I do homework. I clean. I cook. I nap. There's nothing special about me."
"And yet," he said, "you followed clues no one else even saw. You trusted your instinct when every other person ignored the smell of death. You walked into danger without knowing why, simply because your mind demanded an answer or perhaps it's something else?"
Ai faltered.
"You were chosen," he said. "Or perhaps... found."
She stared at him, heart thudding.
"What do you want from me?" she asked. "Why now? Why me?"
The man tilted his head again, as if considering how much to say.
"There are others," he said at last. "Others like you. Each with their own thread to pull, their own clock ticking. You were not the first to awaken. But you might be the one who changes everything."
"Exactly," he replied, that amused tone returning. "I've told you everything—and nothing."
Ai stared, trying to find some anchor in this surreal dreamscape. But everything—the sky, the grass, the shadows—felt like they bent to the presence of this man.
"We catalysts have a purpose, and I believe you can also be a key to it."
"How can I trust you?" Ai asked her voice straight.
"After all I've shown you, I believe it's evident that I'm not normal." The voice said in a calm tone.
"I don't mean that, I mean about the powers." She continued, "And you aren't telling me everything, are you?"
The man looked clealry intrigued, "I'm sorry but I can't tell you everything as of now, you can choose either become one of us and get powers or live your normal life."
Ai looked at the black hue covering his face, "What does that mean?"
"The powers are important they can help you save the world with us but they come at a cost, if you choose this path you would never be able to lead a normal life ever."
Ai was scared.
She didn't know what she have gotten herself into but she was curious, she wanted to know what is it.
"Are you also one of the Catalysts?" She asked him.
He nodded,"Yes, I'm the one you can say is like the leader of all Catalysts, it's my responsibility to find people like you and ask them what they want."
"Why do you ask them all this?" She asked in a curious tone.
"I don't want to destroy anyone's life, I'm out here trying to save them...." He said but his words were cut.
"Is that's why you asked me to report the gas tanker? If I was late and I wasn't smart you would've let all those people die, right?" Her voice was sharp and demanding catching him off guard.
"That was meant to happen, it was a future already written that you changed and it you haven't been there it's true I wouldn't have done anything." He said his voice slightly colder.
Ai was about to say but the man continued, "I don't like to change what's written but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have let all those people die."
"What do you mean?" Ai asked suspicion etched on her face.
"I believe I've already told you enough now the choice is yours."
He looked Ai in the eyes, "You can either continue living your normal life and I won't ever disturb you or either you can help us."
He pointed at her and said, "What's her choice?"
She was afraid.
But she wouldn't let him see that.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked.
He smiled—or at least she felt the idea of a smile.
"Nothing. For now, just wake up."
Her brow furrowed. "What—?"
"The next time we meet, I'll hear your..."
And then, the grass folded into mist, the table crumbled into smoke, and the sky shattered like glass.
Ai jolted upright.
She stood once again on the sidewalk near the perfume shop. People bustled around her, the police had packed up, and the city's noise returned like a tidal wave.
She clutched her chest, gasping quietly.
Had she dreamed it?
What was all that?
What does he mean next time? She didn't know but she knew she had gotten involved in something big, she tightly grabbed her bag and started walking towards her house.
---
"Ah fuck this shi...." Zazm said in a raspy tone as he fell back on the grass.
He put a hand through his hair in irritation, "Mass teleportation to teleport her entire surroundings, along with time stop of that area and spacial bend to hide my face."
"It's too hard to keep them all up for so long." He said that but there was a hint of satisfaction on his face.
He looked up towards the sky and a soft smile appeared, "She's not half bad, I wonder what would be her answer and more importantly what would be her powers."
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