When Kazu entered the Territory, it presented itself to him in an unpretentious manner. It was reminiscent of the street he saw when he looked out of his window at home. Stalls lined the pavement, competing for the limelight. Shops selling various goods that fulfilled both needs and wants of the people. The only thing it was missing was the canal that ran right through the town of Creave.

He ambled down the street, looking around with mild interest. A clothing store with a mannequin facing backward. A restaurant serving rice on golden plates. A toy store that appeared ten times bigger inside than on the outside.

Interesting.

This was what dreamlike felt like. Dreams were often incohesive, strange, and lacking logic. The same applied to Territories.

The difference was awareness. Territories retained awareness; dreams did not.

A small figure bumped into him. Grabbing his arm, she cried, “Help me!”

It was a girl, around ten or so. Her white dress was ragged and smudged with dirt. Her shoulder-length hair was unruly and plastered all over her face. She appeared to have been running. Her bare feet were blistered and sore.

“What happened?” His eyes found a bruise purpling over her jaw.

A sob escaped her. “My father hit me. I ran from home. He will come for me.” She grabbed his arm and glanced behind her fearfully. “Please help me.”

No one else along the street seemed to be surprised by her appearance. They did not even seem to notice her.

Kazu gently removed her hand and said, “I’m here to look for someone. Have you by chance seen her?”

She did not answer immediately. Instead, she bowed her head and said in a piteous voice, “Mister…”

Kazu drew out his gun and pointed it at her. “I think you should be more careful choosing who to speak to.”

The girl lifted her head slowly. The disguise peeled off. She was no longer wearing the smudgy white dress but a proper black shirt-dress and a pair of black tights. Her black hair was smooth and tidy, resting comfortably above her shoulders, its tips clinging to her chin. A pair of high-heeled boots covered her feet right up to her knees.

The barrel of his gun aligned directly over the spot between her cold, gray eyes.

In a flat tone, she said, “You’re the first person to see through my illusion.”

Kazu smiled in acknowledgment.

A tinkling laugh came from his right, and another girl appeared. She was about Rin’s age, dressed in a white blouse and matching checkered skirt and tie. Her waist-long bubblegum pink hair was a graceful cascade down her back. A small red crescent piercing winked from the corner of her left eye.

She removed a bright pink lollipop from between her teeth and waved it at him. “I like you.” She rounded on him, flashed a pair of pointed molars, and blew a puff of raspberry-smelling breath in his face. “So fine, so handsome. Best of all, you outwitted Cecila."

His body reacted the moment the corner of his eyes caught a twitch of movement.

A deep gash etched the ground where he had been standing a moment ago. The older girl whistled, lowering her hand.

“Sweet! I like you even more now.” She winked at him. “Name is Jessabelle. Jess or Jessie – whichever you like.”

“Jessie!” the girl called Cecila snapped. “I thought you’re supposed to be with Master.”

“Master? Naaaw, he doesn’t need me around him,” Jessabelle drawled. “He’s probably sleeping somewhere."

"Precisely why he needs someone with him! We have important work to do!”

“Work, work, work. That’s all you talk about. What a bore.”

Cecila scowled.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Kazu interrupted.

The girls’ attention turned to him.

For the first time, Cecila’s lips curved upwards into a small smile. she spoke with a hint of pride. “I suppose you will find out sooner or later. We belong to an organization known as the King’s League. Our role is to supervise the growth of the Seed. We are both Quantum’s retainers, even though” – a haughty expression crossed her face – “I’m the one doing the work most of the time.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Whoever Quantum was, he was not the Seed’s Master.

Kazu found himself struggling to connect the dots. To begin with, he was like a last-minute substitute for a match where everyone else had ample time to prepare and had to rely on superficial information obtained from an online forum.

“So,” he began slowly, “the Heart Shop is your doing?”

“Yes and no,” Cecila said. “I told you. We are, ah, what you humans call observers. But of course, the Seed must come from somewhere.”

“Ta-da! We are the ones who gave this precious Seed to him!” Jessabelle exclaimed. “Because he was so desperate for it.”

The entire street was now empty except for the three of them, its illusion worn-out.

“He?” Kazu asked quietly.

“The Manager. The one who runs the Heart Shop. Do you believe a Seed has the ability to grant every wish? Do you really believe a Seed is capable of equivalent trade?” Cecila smiled coldly.

“What do you mean?”

“We played the role of Santa Claus. We gave them presents!” Jessabelle hopped onto a fire hydrant, balancing herself on top of it. “Hey, Ceci, are we about done? This place is boring. It’s party and sleep and party and sleep over and over. Let’s finish up and go home.”

“If you’d slacked off less and gotten a Hunter’s heart sooner, then we would be done by now.”

“Hey, one just came marching right up to him a couple of weeks ago. That maroon ponytail guy – I think he has a twin.” Jessabelle looked excited. “Do you think he sold off his twin’s heart?”

Kazu frowned. “You seem very excited about the prospect.”

“Of course! See, a Hunter’s heart helps the Seed grow bigger and bigger.” She waved her hands above her head, nearly falling off her perch. “And there are so, so many Hunters around today!”

“Excuse me, but why a Hunter’s heart?”

“Which do you think appeals more to the Seed? If you are given a chance to feast on a king’s platter after an entire year of dry bread, what would you do? Tainted hearts are like dry bread. The people here had their hearts stained by their selfishness and greed. How do you think a Seed would feel if they encountered a Hunter’s tempered heart?”

Kazu felt rather out of place, listening to a mysterious girl giving him a lecture on a Seed within a Territory.

“This place was doomed from the start.” Cecila carefully tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ears. “Stupidity and greed have something in common: they are highly contagious. When the people saw that trading hearts brought wealth, they started doing it too. It didn't take long before they started using it as a means of satisfying their grudges and products of envy without dirtying their own hands. None of them realized they were building a path towards their own destruction. Do you know within this street itself, how many of their kind humans have killed out of selfishness?”

He understood what she implied. Seeds affected everyone in their Territory. The more you fed it, the more it gave in return. The more hearts it fed on, the stronger the Seed became, and the more tempted people became. It was a vicious cycle that would ultimately bring detriment to those under its prolonged influence.

Jessabelle was humming a tune that was reminiscent of “Mulberry Bush” while spinning.

Cecila ignored the interruption. “Such foolishness. All they saw were the gains, and for the gains, it’s all right to forsake others. In other words, it’s the weak minds of humans that lead to their downfall.”

She eyed him, gouging his reaction. “Interesting. You don’t seem to disagree.”

“I don’t agree either. I’m not planning to judge anyone,” he said.

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether you do. What does a person’s opinion matter anyway? An excited Seed feeds more than usual. In other words, your presence as Hunters facilitates its growth-”

A thought struck him. “Did you, by chance, lead my friend here?”

Jessabelle laughed – high-pitched, amused.

Cecila smiled, pleased. “Very astute. Let’s just say everything falls into place of its own.”

They were right – the Seed was excited, very excited. He sensed it, an unsettling presence crawling through the grounds, climbing up the walls, hiding in the crevices of the alleys, impatient roots crawling up to him.

As they spoke, it was expanding, blooming like an ugly flower, reaching toward the fake sky above their heads. The pressure pressed against him like a crowd in a commuter.

Both Cecila and Jessabelle were smirking. The girls had stalled enough time.

His ears were starting to buzz with illegible noises, like tuning a radio and getting multiple stations at that one overlapping frequency.

Kazu was not the type to panic when trapped in a sticky situation. He did not retaliate – not because it was too late, but at times, he just happened to prefer to go with the flow.

Sometimes, the harder you struggled, the tighter the ropes got.

“The way you speak of humans, it’s as if you’re not one yourself.” He asked one final question as the Seed’s tendrils crept around him, unseen but felt: “Exactly who are you?”

“I’ll tell you since you’re so eager for an answer.” Cecila drew herself to her full height. “We witness, we observe, and we judge. We are everywhere. We are the people of Reverse-”

Buzzing filled his ears, louder and louder, nearly drowning out her next words.

“- and we are here on a mission. Someone has to retrieve Master Imp’s creation.”

*

When Edwin entered the Territory, it presented itself to him in an unpretentious manner. It reminded him of the street near his home, sparsely occupied by dull and lifeless shops, overlooking an old church no one went to. Overflowing bins rummaged by strays and cigarette butts half-buried in the ground. Dim lanterns swung overhead, suspended on dangerously thin and frail wires. The lighting was the unpleasant cool gray on an evening that was about to rain.

He hated it. He wondered if he had accidentally teleported elsewhere because his mind could not fathom how and why this street was popular.

Edwin stomached the distaste of his surroundings and strolled up to a stall selling skewers.

Or at least, he thought they were skewers.

They turned out to be plastic models of skewered meat, sausages, broccoli –

His stomach rumbled in protest. He had abandoned his lunch after receiving Rin’s message. Sleep deprived and hungry, he let out a long sigh.

The people around him were moving as though programmed, unnaturally rigid, with one hand poised strategically behind their backs.

On closer look, they were all holding some form of weapon.

Great, he was about to witness a variety of weapons on display.

“The stupid cat owes me lunch and two days’ worth of sleep,” he muttered under his breath as he slid his hand into his coat pocket.