Chapter 24: We Are Watching

Tsungdung Street was coming alive for the evening. Stalls clattered open, woks hissed, vendors called out prices over piles of fresh produce. The air smelled like grilled meat and chili oil, and Apricot’s empty stomach twisted.

She barely noticed. Her thoughts kept circling back to what she’d pieced together in class.

If the nobles built the city for a sacrifice… why? And to whom?

Her hand drifted to her backpack, fingertips brushing the rigid spines of the magazines inside. Once, she would have laughed at the idea that those stories held any truth. Now they felt like a cipher. A roadmap left behind by fools, liars, and maybe a few unlucky witnesses who’d seen how the world actually worked.

She kept walking, barely registering the noise around her. Evening deepened. Holographic signs flickered alive above the stalls.

She didn’t notice the car until it was already beside her.

A quiet whirr cut through the market sounds. She turned and saw a midnight-blue cruiser gliding at walking speed along the curb, too clean and too quiet for a street like this. Its tinted windows reflected the vendors and shoppers in warped shapes.

The back window slid down. Inside sat a man in a black suit, sunglasses on despite the fading light.

“Ma’am,” he said, voice firm and clipped, “I need you to step into the car.”

Her gaze dropped to the silver badge on his breast pocket: OKABE SPECIAL INVESTIGATIVE FORCE — Unit 2044.

The word OKABE knocked the air out of her. For a split second she was back in Chino Tokuma’s dim parlor, listening to the old woman describe the day the Okabe clan stormed the Blue Ash facility. Guns roaring. Sealing the Gate. Disappearing everyone involved.

Now they stood in front of her.

Two more agents had stepped out of the cruiser, flanking the open door. The bearded one tilted his head, watching her from behind opaque shades. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The badge said enough.

We answer to no one. We can take whoever we want.

Run. They’d be faster. Fight. Absurd. Scream. The crowd would look away.

There was no choice.

She dropped her eyes and gave the smallest nod.

They closed in on either side. Each took one of her elbows. Not rough, but there was no give in their grip. She felt herself steered toward the open car door, feet barely her own.

She ducked her head and climbed in. They slid in after her, one on each side.

The door shut with a heavy thunk.

---

Silence. The interior was black leather, cold recycled air, and deep shadow. The windows were tinted almost to black; only thin smears of streetlight seeped through as the car pulled away. Underneath the leather smell there was something else. Something sterile and faintly medical.

The two agents beside her sat perfectly still. She could feel the shape of their holstered weapons through their jackets. She drew her knees together, fingers laced tight in her lap.

The front passenger turned in his seat. Thinner than the other two, hair slicked back. A tablet glowed in his hands, casting pale light across his face. In the reflection on his glasses she could see herself. She looked terrified.

“Miss Apricot Signa,” he said. Smooth voice, clipped Uchellan accent. Very polite. Very cold.

He didn’t offer his name.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Cooperation. As if she’d had a choice.

“Where are you taking me?”

He ignored the question. The driver didn’t move. The passenger just flicked his finger across the tablet.

“Our records show you were present during the Ichigari Grocery incident a few months ago.”

The sergeant’s face came back to her. The one from the station, the night they took her statement. The way he’d leaned across the desk, voice barely above a whisper, eyes wet with something she hadn’t understood at the time. Forget it. All of it. Call it a nightmare, a bad trip, whatever you need. Just let it die.

She’d nodded then because she was half in shock. Now, boxed in by Okabe agents, she understood exactly why he’d been so afraid. These were the men he meant. The ones who made the truth go away. And the people who spoke it.

“Y-Yes,” she managed. “I was there. I got caught in the attack.”

“Describe what you saw.”

“Nothing,” she said. “There was some kind of chemical agent. I blacked out during the panic. When I came to I was on the floor of the warehouse in the back. That’s what I told the police.”

He tilted his head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” he said. “You didn’t notice any… let’s say… monsters?”

He said the word like it amused him. But he was watching her closely.

He knows. Not the details. But enough to test her. She made herself look confused.

“Monsters?” She let out a small, hollow laugh. “I’m not sure what you mean. Like I told the police, I heard some kind of commotion, then I blacked out. If there were any ‘monsters,’ I was unconscious for it.” She swallowed. “I woke up on a warehouse floor. That’s all I know.”

The bearded agent beside her shifted. She flinched. He cracked his knuckles. The pop echoed in the cabin.

The lead agent’s mouth thinned. He wasn’t buying it.

“Hmm. Other witnesses provided colorful reports. Giant insects, ghosts. Pure nonsense.” He flicked his fingers as if brushing lint from his sleeve. “Your initial statement was refreshingly mundane. A chemical agent, blacked out, woke up in the warehouse. Wasn’t it?”

“That’s what happened,” she said. “I passed out and people got hurt. I didn’t see any bugs or whatever those others claim.”

He watched her for a long moment. Then a tiny nod.

She glanced forward. The dashboard navigation screen was dark. No map, no route. Just blank glass. Outside, city lights blurred past. She hadn’t registered the turns. They could be anywhere by now.

They were circling. Keeping the car moving, keeping their presence anonymous. A government cruiser sitting still on Tsungdung Street would draw eyes.

---

She had just started to breathe a little easier when his voice came back, mild and conversational.

“You’re a journalism student, aren’t you, Miss Signa?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer.

His fingers moved across the tablet. “You’ve been busy these past few weeks. You recently purchased a copy of Eerie Truths Monthly, a rather sensationalist tabloid. And…” A soft click of his tongue. “…you attempted to buy a firearm at Bullseye’s Guns & Ammo.”

He turned his head toward her. “Why would a young student journalist be doing all that, I wonder?”

The heat left her face. They knew. The magazine. She’d used her card. The gun shop. She’d shown her ID before the clerk turned her away. Of course that had been logged somewhere.

Stupid. Careless.

“The magazine was just curiosity,” she said. “A friend mentioned it had conspiracy theories about the grocery attack, and I wanted to see what was out there. Journalism student. Research.”

“And the firearm?”

“I was scared,” she said, and she let the tremor into her voice because it was real enough. “After the grocery thing, and the bank before that, I’ve been on edge. I thought maybe a gun would help me feel safer.” She looked down at her hands. “It was stupid. I didn’t buy anything. You can check.”

The silence that followed filled the car.

“Safety,” he said, turning the word over like something he’d found on the ground. “And what exactly are you afraid of, Miss Signa? Chemical agents?”

One of the agents beside her laughed. A short, ugly sound.

“I… it was just a thought,” she whispered. “I didn’t buy one.”

“Yes. The clerk turned you away, I see.” He glanced at his tablet. “Probably for the best. Firearms can be quite hazardous in untrained hands. Wouldn’t want you injuring yourself. Or someone else.”

She understood what he was really saying. If we thought you were dangerous, you wouldn’t have walked out of that shop.

They had everything. Purchase history, ID scans, even the details of a refused sale at a gun shop. If they had all of that, what else? Her emails? Her calls?

This wasn’t an interview. This was a demonstration.

He swiped the tablet again. “You’ve become quite the magnet for unfortunate events. The Okabe Central Bank incident… a hostage situation, wasn’t it? And you right in the middle of it.”

Half a year had passed since Okabe Central, but the memory was right there: cold marble under her knees, the metal taste of fear in her mouth, a revolver’s hammer clicking beside her ear.

“I was unlucky enough to be there, yes.”

“Unlucky,” the agent repeated. “And yet you came out of that unscathed as well. Interesting.”

The way he said it made clear what he actually meant.

“A person might wonder if perhaps you make your own luck. Perhaps by being involved in ways you haven’t fully disclosed.”

“No.” Too loud. She pulled back. “I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Both times.”

“Twice is an awful lot of coincidence.” He flicked to another page on his tablet. “But what really concerns us are your more recent activities.”

Tap.

“Your little visit to Chino Tokuma two days ago, for instance.”

Everything in her went cold.

She thought of Chino’s parlor, the creaking floorboards, the old woman’s trembling voice. She’d gone there quietly. So quietly.

But of course the Okabe would have Chino under surveillance. A former researcher from the Blue Ash Project. A near-whistleblower. They’d record every visitor. And Apricot had walked right up to the front door.

“Miss Tokuma is on a watchlist,” the agent said, as if he were mentioning rain in the forecast. “The woman is a compulsive liar with a documented history of mental illness. It’s dangerous for a young lady like you to consort with someone like that. She’ll fill your head with paranoid fantasies.”

He turned fully in his seat, one arm draped over the headrest. His sunglasses had slipped enough for her to see his eyes. Gray, flat, patient. The eyes of someone who had done this many times before.

“Tell me. What did you discuss with her?”

“I interviewed her,” Apricot said. “For a class project. I’m writing a piece on urban legends, and the Blue Ash Crisis came up. I wanted an anecdote for my paper.”

“An assignment. Naturally. And did dear old Chino tell you her version of the Blue Ash Incident?”

“Not much. Mostly rambling about magic and government plots. I realized pretty fast she wasn’t a credible source. I left early.”

He tapped his tablet, watching her face the way a doctor watches a patient he suspects is lying about their symptoms.

She kept her expression still. The anger was there, right behind the fear. She wanted to accuse him of every horror Chino had described. She wanted to say the old woman’s name loud enough for the whole city to hear.

But that would end her. And it would end Chino too.

So she kept her face blank. Just a student. Just nobody.

---

A long silence settled inside the car. Outside, the city kept going. Horns, a motorcycle somewhere, all of it muffled by the thick glass. Nobody out there knew she was in here.

They know everything. They’ve been watching me from the start.

The agent spoke again.

“Miss Signa, let me be frank. We’re aware you’ve developed an interest in the unusual events around the city. Buying sensational magazines. Visiting unstable individuals. Attempting to arm yourself.” He made a small, disapproving sound. “Not the behavior of a model citizen.”

“I didn’t mean any harm,” she said. “I was just curious.”

“Curiosity can be dangerous.”

He reached up and removed his sunglasses. Folded them neatly and slipped them into his breast pocket. Without the shades his eyes were gray and sharp. They went through her, not just at her.

“Fortunately,” he said, “nothing irrevocable has occurred yet. Your actions can be chalked up to youthful indiscretion. You’re young. You’ve witnessed traumatic events. It’s understandable you’d look for answers in the wrong places.”

The gentleness in his voice was worse than the cold had been.

“But that ends now.”

“You will cease any and all investigations into ‘the Crisis’ or related events. You will avoid unreliable individuals such as Miss Tokuma. You will stop consuming sensationalist material.” His lip curled. “In short, Miss Signa, you will drop this. Completely. Go back to your life. Focus on school. Keep your head down. Forget about phantoms, rituals, magic circles. Whatever fantasies you’ve been entertaining.”

He leaned closer. She could smell antiseptic on his clothes.

“Are we clear?”

Her lip trembled. She hated it. For a moment she thought of the centipede-phantom’s screech, the violet fire that had erupted from her hands. There were more of them out there. If she stopped now, who would do anything?

She looked at his face. At the gray eyes that held nothing she could negotiate with. At the two agents who hadn’t moved once since they sat down. At the blank navigation screen with no route displayed, because this car had no destination. It only had this.

The thought died before it finished forming.

“Clear,” she whispered. “Understood.”

He watched her for a long time. Then he smiled.

“Good girl.”

He turned to the driver without looking away from her. “Stop here.”

The cruiser slowed to a halt. Outside the window, a quiet side street. Shuttered shops, wet pavement, weak streetlights. She hadn’t realized they’d left Tsungdung.

He put the sunglasses back on.

“Before you go. Just so you understand your position.”

He tapped his temple with one gloved finger.

“We are watching. Every move. Every call. Every keystroke.”

He let that sit.

“If you step out of line, even once, we’ll know.”

He settled back into his seat. “I’d hate for you to meet with any unfortunate accidents. You have a bright future if you simply behave. No need to throw it away.”

The door beside her clicked.

“Let her out.”

Both agents stepped out. The bearded one jerked his head. Apricot scrambled across the seat and out of the car. Her legs nearly buckled when she stood. Cool air hit her skin but she couldn’t feel it.

She stood on the curb. The two agents blocked her view of the car’s interior, but through the half-lowered window she caught the glint of his sunglasses one last time.

“Take care of yourself, Miss Signa. And remember our little chat.”

The window went up.

The agents got back in. The doors shut. The engine growled low, and the cruiser pulled away.

Apricot stood there watching the taillights shrink down the street until they disappeared into the city’s glow.

She realized she was gripping her own arms hard enough to leave marks.

They were gone.

She had never felt so alone.

---

She couldn’t move for a while. A sob pushed up her throat and she clamped her hand over her mouth.

Not here.

Across the street, two old women walked a small dog. Down the block, a ramen shop owner was pulling his shutter down. Nobody had noticed the cruiser. Nobody had seen a thing.

She got her phone out with shaking hands and ducked into a recessed doorway, the locked entrance of some old bookshop. She swiped to her contacts. There was one name she trusted right now.

She called.

They could be listening. The line could already be flagged.

I don’t care. Someone has to know.

“Yeah?”

“Ar—Arjun…” Her voice broke. The second she heard him, whatever was holding her together gave way. A tear slid down her cheek.

A pause. “Apricot? That you? What happened?”

“Please,” she whispered. “I need you to come get me. Right now. I don’t feel safe.”

“Foshou. Where are you?”

She got the intersection out through chattering teeth.

“I’m on my way,” he said. She heard keys, a car door. “Ten minutes. Talk to me if you can.”

“I can’t. Not on the phone. Just hurry.”

“I’ll be there.”

She hung up and folded herself small, arms wrapped tight around her body, spine against the cold shutter, eyes shut.

Arjun’s coming.

---

His car showed up before the shaking stopped. The gray sedan squealed to the curb, and Arjun was out before the engine finished idling. He crossed the sidewalk in three steps and crouched in front of her.

He didn’t touch her. He looked her over. Checking for blood, for bruises, for things he wouldn’t be able to see.

“Can you stand?”

She nodded. Her legs didn’t agree. He caught her elbow when she swayed and walked her to the passenger side without a word. Opened the door, waited, shut it behind her.

The car smelled like pine freshener and old coffee. Warm air came through the vents. The ordinary details helped more than anything he could have said.

He pulled away from the curb and drove in silence for a minute.

“You want to tell me what happened?”

She stared through the windshield. A convenience store slid past, green neon on her face. Then a shuttered laundromat. Then dark residential blocks.

“I was walking on Tsungdung,” she said. Her voice was flat, stripped down to what she was willing to say out loud. “Some guy followed me in a car. Pulled up beside me and wouldn’t leave.”

His jaw tightened. “What kind of car?”

“Dark. Sedan. Tinted windows. He flashed something. Maybe an ID. I couldn’t tell.”

“Did he touch you?”

“No. He just talked. Asked where I was going, offered me a ride.” She rubbed her arms. “He left eventually. But I couldn’t stop shaking after.”

He was quiet for a long time.

“You should tell Solenne.”

“No.” Too fast. She caught herself. “I don’t want to make it a thing. If she files a report, it’s official. Questions, follow-ups. I don’t want that kind of attention right now.”

She could feel him turning it over. He wasn’t the type to drop something like this. But he wasn’t going to push her tonight.

“Okay,” he said. The word came with strings she could hear even though he didn’t name them. For now.

They didn’t talk after that. The city thinned out into the quieter blocks near her neighborhood. Arjun pulled up in front of her house and cut the headlights but left the engine running.

She sat there for a moment, looking at her front door. The porch light was on. Through the living room window she could see the blue flicker of the holo-screen. Jasper, probably still up, watching something with the volume too low.

Normal. All of it so normal it made her chest ache.

“Thank you,” she said.

Arjun nodded. “Lock the door.”

She climbed out, shut the door gently, and walked up the path. At the front step she looked back. His sedan sat at the curb, exhaust curling in the cold. He’d wait until she was inside.

She lifted a hand. He raised two fingers off the wheel.

She went inside. Locked the door. Threw the deadbolt.

The house was warm and quiet. Down the hall, the holo-screen murmured. Jasper’s socked feet were propped on the arm of the couch, visible through the living room doorway. He didn’t look up.

Apricot stood in the entryway with her back against the door, coat still on, bag still over her shoulder. She could feel her pulse in her teeth.

Everything looked the same as when she’d left.

Nothing was.