Chương 166: Chapter 165 - Compound Interest

The ticking grew louder. Each tick resonated in Lucid's chest. Each tock shook the golden ground beneath him. The threads wrapped tighter around his shoulders. Around his waist. Binding him to a contract he did not understand.

'I have nothing. Nothing worth that painting. Nothing worth trading. I am going to lose this and I do not even know what losing means.' Celeste watched him with that twisted smile. Waiting. Patient. The painting rotated slowly beside her. Worth more than the entire city. Worth more than anything Lucid had ever owned or would own. The voice spoke again. Everywhere and nowhere.

"Surrender an object for exchange of equal value." Lucid opened his mouth to respond. To offer something. Anything. The worthless ring. His boots. His blood if that counted. A figure appeared behind Lucid. Yellow hair caught golden light. Blue vest over white shirt. Cap pulled low but not low enough to hide those eyes. Golden eyes. Sharp. Calculating. Wrong in ways that matched this impossible place. The boy from the merchant district. The one who had sold knives. The one who had disappeared.

Celeste's smile vanished. Her expression twisted. Rage replaced amusement.

"You," she growled.

"How did you get in here?" The boy said nothing. Just walked forward. His usual energy was gone. He brushed past Lucid. His hand touched Lucid's shoulder briefly. The contact was grounding in a place where everything felt wrong. The boy stopped between Lucid and Celeste. Faced her directly.

"Enter," he said. One word. Flat. Celeste laughed. High. Sharp.

"Oh you cannot. You cannot go against me, little mouse. You have nothing left to bet." She stepped closer. Loomed over the boy who was smaller than her. Less imposing in every physical way.

"They took everything from you. There is nothing to your name anymore. No assets. No wealth. No value to trade."

"You know what that means..." The boy looked up. His golden eyes shone twice as bright as before. Glowing in the golden light of the impossible sky. He spoke two words.

"Compound interest." The air shifted. Reality bent around the words. Like they carried weight beyond meaning. Like speaking them changed fundamental rules. A scale materialized between them. Massive. Made of the same golden substance as the threads. On one side sat the painting. Rotating slowly. Showing its worth. On the other side was nothing. Empty. Waiting. The scale tilted heavily toward the painting. So heavy it should have crashed down. Should have declared Celeste the winner immediately.

But it did not crash. It moved slowly. Like fighting against impossible weight.

"Foresight," the boy added. The scale shuddered. The empty side dropped. Not all the way. Not to balance. But down. Significantly down. Fighting against the painting's value through sheer conceptual force.

'What is this? What did he do? How is nothing weighing against something of that side?' Celeste screamed. Actual screaming.

"That should not be possible! There is no realistic way! Compound interest is future value! Foresight is potential! Neither exists in present measurement!" The boy raised two fingers. Snapped them. The weight on the empty side multiplied. Exploded. The scale crashed down so hard it cracked the golden surface beneath it. Sent shockwaves rippling outward. The painting side shot up into the air. Unbalanced. Defeated. Lucid stared. Tried to understand what he had just witnessed.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

'He bet nothing. Literally nothing. And won. How? How is that possible?' Celeste's rage transformed. Her scream became laughter. Quiet at first. Then louder. Manic.

"Ah. So now is the time you are proving yourself useful." She raised her hand. Something materialized. A letter. Sealed. Stamped with wax that gleamed red against the golden light.

"The words of the ruler of Everlight. Magnus. The only heir and successor. He wields quite the fortune. His promise of future payment. His guarantee of wealth."

"There is potent faith in this singular parchment, faith from labourers, banks... the economy of an entire territory..." She held the letter up. Let it catch light. Let its value be seen and understood. The boy's golden eyes darkened. A somber mood overtook him. The sharpness remained but something else joined it. Something heavier. He looked back at Lucid. Their eyes met. Brief. Meaningful. Recognition crossed between them. Like looking at a reflection in a mirror that showed truth instead of appearance.

'I know you. Somehow I know you. Why do I feel like I have seen you before?'

"Hey," Lucid managed to force words past the threads.

"Who are you?"

"I suggest you forget me before—" Something grabbed Lucid. Invisible hands. Powerful. They yanked him backward. Away from the boy. Away from Celeste. Toward something that felt like tearing. The boy turned. Whispered something. Quick. Quiet. His lips moved but the words were soft.

"Do not worry. You will live." Lucid fell forward. Tangled with the golden white threads. They wrapped tighter. Pulled him toward Celeste who stood watching with a scowl. The boy spoke louder now. Clear. Deliberate.

"I offer this noble soul for an exchange. A human life is worth quite a lot." Celeste looked up at him. Really looked. Her expression shifted through emotions too fast to track. Surprise. Something that might have been respect.

"A singular human soul cannot compete against the faith of an entire economy."

"Ask mother Alisia."

"You are insane."

"Most people call me that," the boy replied. Lucid scrambled. Tried to pull free from the threads. His hands were bound. Struggling made them tighter. Something materialized from empty air. Large. Metal. Sharp. A guillotine. Wooden frame. Angled blade. The apparatus of execution hanging in golden sky like it belonged there. The boy walked toward it. His face was dark now. Empty of the sharpness. Empty of the calculation. Just blank. Resigned. Lucid yelled. Tried to yell.

The golden white threads wrapped around his mouth. Covered it. Muffled everything.

"You fucker! Stop! What are you doing?" The boy did not respond. Just walked to the guillotine. Positioned himself beneath it. Looked back at Lucid one last time. His expression said everything words could not. This was necessary. This was the trade. This was how Lucid lived. The blade dropped. Metal met throat. Lucid screamed into the threads.

"Hey. Are you alright?" Lucid blinked. The golden sky was gone. The tree was gone. The guillotine was gone. Blue sky overhead. Normal sky. Port Vexis sky. He stood in the plaza. Surrounded by people. Normal people. Moving. Talking. Living. Arthur stood beside him. Concern written across his face.

"Are you alright? You seem out of it." Lucid's hands went to his throat. Felt for threads. Found nothing. Just skin. Just his own pulse hammering beneath flesh.

"The hell!" He yelled. Onlookers turned and stared. Whispered to each other about the strange boy shouting in the middle of the crowd Arthur stared at him with confusion.

"Lucid?" Lucid looked around frantically. Searching for the boy. For the guillotine. For evidence that what he experienced was real. He found Celeste instead. Still on the stage. Still in her magistrate robes. She looked directly at him. Met his eyes across the crowd. And smiled. Small. Knowing. The same twisted smile from the golden place. She was marking him. Recording him. Filing him away as something to return to later.

'But this cannot be. I just saw her in that place. How is she here? Why will she not attack? What was that?' Arthur grabbed his shoulder. Shook gently.

"Lucid. Are you alright?" Lucid brushed his hands away. Needed space. Needed air. He looked back at the stage. Celeste was gone. Like she had never been there.

'As if she was never here. Was any of it real? Did I imagine all of that?' Everyone in the plaza was staring at him now. The crazy boy who had yelled and grabbed at his throat and looked around like he was being chased by invisible demons. Arthur held up his hands. Addressed the crowd with practiced calm.

"Oh uh. Sorry. My friend is not mentally well. Please excuse us."

'HUH?' Arthur grabbed Lucid's arm. Started pulling him away from the plaza. Away from the staring crowd. Away from where Celeste had been standing.

"Come on. We are leaving before you cause more of a scene." Lucid let himself be pulled. His mind was racing. Trying to process what had happened. Trying to separate real from unreal.

'Did that actually happen? Or am I losing my mind?' They reached a quieter street. Arthur released his arm. Turned to face him directly.

"What happened back there? You looked terrified. Like you saw something no one else could see."

"I did see something." Lucid's voice was hoarse. Raw.

"There was a boy. And a woman. And a contract. And a guillotine." Arthur's expression grew more concerned.

"Lucid. There was no boy. No guillotine. Just you standing in the plaza staring at nothing and grabbing your throat."

"But I saw it. I felt it. The threads around my mouth. The golden sky. The tree."

"What tree?" Lucid stopped. Looked at Arthur. Really looked. Arthur saw nothing. Experienced nothing. For him time had never stopped. Celeste had just been a magistrate making announcements. Nothing unusual. Nothing impossible.

'Only I experienced it. Only I was pulled into that place. Why? What made me different?' His hand went to his pocket. Felt for the ring. The worthless ring that had cost him seven gold coins. It was still there. Maybe someone had just traded their life for his and he did not even know their real name. Arthur was still watching him with concern.

"Should we go back to the tavern? Let you rest?"

"No." Lucid's voice came out stronger now. More certain.

"No. I need to find someone. A boy. Yellow hair. Golden eyes..."

"The knife selling... merchant from earlier?"

"Yes. Him. I need to find him."

"Why?" Lucid looked at Arthur. Tried to find words for something he barely understood himself.

"Because I think he just saved my life. And I need to know why." Arthur studied him for a long moment. Then nodded.

"Alright. We will find him. Together." They started walking. Back toward the merchant district. Back toward where the performance had been.