Malich walked across the dimly-lit and grimy subway station floor, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the tunnel. The only signs of life were a few scattered bums sitting against the walls, their ragged clothes blending in with the filth that covered the station.

As Malich approached a window built into the wall, he saw a shopkeeper sitting inside, his face obscured by the smoke from his cigarette. The man-made quick glances at Malich, his eyes scanning him up and down, before finally putting his paper down and turning his full attention towards him.

With a raspy voice that spewed smoke, he said, “Hey there Catalyst. Need another job?”

Malich shook his head. “No Bulov, I need you to get in contact with Mr. Hourglass and tell him the machine is ready.”

Bulov raised an eyebrow. “Mmmm, well okay.”

Malich began to turn away, but before he could take a step, the man spoke up again. “So you got it all working then.”

“Of course. I just said that I did, and why would I be here if I hadn't?” Malich said with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“Well… Let's just call me impressed. Didn't think you'd get the device working. Even your own pops couldn't make it work,” the man said, flashing a grin.

Malich's eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“You hear lots of things when you do this job. And before you ask, I don't know who began talking about it. The rumor of the device began to spread when your dad first started doing jobs down here,” the man explained.

“Do you think Mr. Hourglass knows about those rumors?” Malich asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

The man's smile grew wider prominently showing his missing teeth. “I think if he didn't, he wouldn't have asked you to make the device.”

“Do you know who asked my old man to make the device?” Malich asked.

“No clue. I could look into it if you like.” Bulov said.

“Yes, please do.” Malich said.

“Another thing,” The man leaned in closer, his breath hot and rancid on Malich's face. It wasn't out of concern for being overheard, but rather a habitual gesture of secrecy. "I know you said you weren't looking for work, but the Gilded Gears want to make an order," he whispered.

“No.” Malich said resolutely.

Bulov lifted his hands in a show of defeat, not pressing the issue. “Fine. Now, are you going to buy anything or are you just browsing?”

Malich glanced around the shop, searching for something to buy. His eyes landed on a magazine with the words "Cogworks" printed across the top. He pointed to it. “I’ll take that.” He took out a twenty, it was far more than enough for the paper, but he wasn't just paying for it.

The man took the bill and then grabbed the magazine, flipping through it briefly before grinning mischievously. “Perv,” he whispered, passing the paper to Malich.

Malich frowned and took the paper, viewing it with surprise. The paper displayed automatons built to resemble the female body, wearing scandalous outfits. Malich blushed, wondering if he had grabbed the wrong magazine, but upon closer inspection, it was indeed the right one. He took the issue carefully, tucking it into his coat pocket.

As Malich began walking away, he heard the man yell after him in the most cheerful of voices, “You have a good day pervert!” Malich quickened his pace, eager to leave the subway station.

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As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, a gust of cold wind whipped at his face, reminding him of the late hour. He glanced up at the sky, seeing the stars and the sun sitting together silently. He had read books about how the stars once twinkled, he wondered what it looked like. "Was it like the blinking of a light, flashing on and off." It was an amusing thought.

The streets were eerily quiet, except for the distant rumble of a train and the occasional rattle of cars passing by.

Malich buttoned his coat tightly, trying to ward off the chill as he made his way to his apartment. His mind was still reeling from the day's events, from the success of his invention to the crude magazine he had unwittingly purchased.

The Cogworks was typically filled with articles on cutting-edge automaton engineering and other mechanical sciences, but every now and then they would release a paper like the one he had picked up. It was clear they knew their audience very well.

As Malich continued his walk, his thoughts drifted to the upcoming school day, dreading the early wake-up call and feeling exhausted already. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy with each step, and he longed for the comfort of his bed.

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Suddenly, the sound of footsteps from behind jolted him from his reverie. Turning around, Malich saw a suspicious-looking man with his hands buried deep in his pockets, shuffling along and staring at the ground. Was he just cold, or...?

Malich took a quick turn into an alleyway. He sped up the moment he was out of the man’s sight. Then he then slowed his pace waiting to see if the man would simply walk by the alley or follow.

Malich stepped cautiously, his ears straining to pick up any sound of approaching footsteps. He made his way through the narrow alleyway, every step calculated and measured, until he had emerged on the other side. He stopped and turned around, his brow furrowed with anxiety.

He had given the man plenty of time to follow him, but there was no sign of him. Malich waited a moment more, his eyes scanning the shadows for any movement, but the alley remained still and silent.

With a heavy sigh, he decided to continue on his way home. But as he walked, the feeling of being watched lingered, and his footsteps felt heavier with each passing moment.

Abruptly, he heard the sound of footsteps fall behind him again.

Trying to remain calm, Malich stole a quick glance behind him as he rounded a corner. His heart sank as he saw the same suspicious-looking man from before, his gaze fixed on Malich with an unsettling intensity.

“Pitting.” Malich cursed under a whispered breath. He was being followed. “Is it the TPA? Was I followed at the shop?” He thought. If he was only being followed because he was seen with Jekyll then he just had to make sure they didn't find where he lived. If they were a mugger then he wasn't worried at all.

Malich didn't relish the idea of wandering the dimly lit streets all night. He weighed his options carefully, considering the possibilities. "Should I try to flee, or should I let the person catch me and see how things play out?" he murmured to himself.

As he contemplated his next move, he walked into a narrow alleyway, fully aware that it was a dead end. He positioned himself at the very end of the alley, facing the direction he had just come from.

The sound of footsteps echoed in the alleyway, steadily growing closer. Malich braced himself and took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever he may have to do.

The stranger emerged from the shadows, and Malich did his best to put on a face of surprise.

He waited, watching as the figure slowly approached him with caution.

The hooded figure pulled back her hood, revealing a woman with brown hair. As she reached into her pocket, Malich mirrored her movements, tightening his grip on a cylindrical device hidden in his jacket pocket. He was ready to accelerate time at a moment's notice, his cardinal clock pulsing in anticipation.

The woman produced an item from her pocket. It was a badge. Malich strained to make out the words on it, thinking to himself, "TPA?"

She displayed it to him, and he could see that it read "New Varwick Police." Malich breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the badge didn't belong to someone actually dangerous.

"I have a few questions. Do you mind assisting me with them?" she asked.

"Of course, officer," Malich replied, his voice carefully neutral.

"Do you know the man you just bought from?" she inquired.

"His name is Bulov, I've been to his shop a few times," Malich replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

"From the way he spoke, it sounded like he knew you quite well," the woman said, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Malich's heart sank. Had she overheard his conversation? He tried to remain composed, his mind racing as he considered his next move.

He began to hear the ticking from the Grand Clock. Even at the great distance between him and the structure the faint tick could still be heard. It was always there, people just learned to tune it out. But when Malich began to panic it came back into focus.

Malich’s first instinct was to dilate his time upward which would allow him to think faster. But he didn't do that if the woman before him was also a chronomancer she might be the type to have the ability to detect when others used chronomancy.

“I have to be careful and ready to run if necessary. I might even need to do something drastic.” Malich thought, thinking about what was hidden in his jacket pocket.

Would he even be able to do something like that? He couldn't say. He would only know when he was forced to make such a choice.

"I'm sure he speaks to everyone that way. He seems like the type of guy who tries to be friends with everybody," Malich replied, his voice steady.

The woman regarded him skeptically. Malich wondered if he was being too obvious in his attempt to distance himself from the seller.

"What exactly did you buy?" she pressed.

"Nothing important," Malich said, hoping to deflect her attention.

"He called you a pervert. Why was that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing further.

Malich's mind raced as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation. "Just a weird way he says goodbye," he muttered, cringing inwardly at his pathetic lie.

"Show me what you bought," the woman said. Her hand brushed against her jacket, revealing a holstered gun. She let her hand hover near her gun as if ready for action.

Malich complied, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a paper. The woman watched him closely, her gaze fixed on his every move. He handed it over to her, trying not to make any sudden movements.

She glanced at the magazine briefly, her expression quickly turning to one of disgust. Malich couldn't help but feel a bit embarrassed by the fact that he had such a magazine.

He swore to himself that the only reason he didn't immediately throw it away was because he paid good money for it. Though deep down he knew it was a lie. What could he say? He loved automatons.

As the woman handed back the magazine, she shot him another piercing look before asking, "One last question. Why did you go shopping so late at night?"

Malich's mind raced for a suitable response, and a crude thought crossed his mind. He couldn't help but let a smirk slip out as he replied, "Well, men's wants aren't bound by time."

The woman's eyes narrowed, and her expression turned icy. "I'm sorry for wasting your time," she said curtly before turning to walk away.

Malich let out a deep breath, watching as the woman walked away with a sense of relief flooding through him.

"She must have only caught the tail end of the conversation. The part that Bulov had shouted," he thought to himself. "Bulov isn't such an idiot that he would let someone close enough to listen in on our conversation. Though it is worrisome that he has the police's attention. I hope he manages to deliver my message without problem."