Alan choked on plain air; his eyes perceived the world to be rotating anti-clockwise as vertigo dominated his body. His breathing heaved even without usage of any potential stamina and his brain temporarily shut down its exhausted services.

Hemant sat appalled; his pupils widened in magnitude. He had trouble analyzing his surroundings and the scene which took place before him, momentarily losing his sentience. Once he regained them, he scurried across the medium-sized room and fetched water for the gagging boy. His mien panicked as flames of trepidation engulfed his rationality while he teetered his way in aiding Alan.

Alan grabbed the glass of water and gulped it vigorously. The water helped in relatively calming his senses and swept away the radiating heat of anxiety. His eyes blinked furiously until they finally stopped discerning double visions.

It took only three words to make Alan's heart stop, and unfortunately, those words weren't 'I love you.'

Hemant observed his client reverting to his original composure with his organs (especially the eyes) gradually finding their respective positions and let out a loud sigh. The episode he had witnessed almost made him theorize that he had killed Alan. Fortunately, fate and luck were hand-in-hand that day.

Hemant made his way back to his recliner and clasped his fingers, placing his firm elbows on the desk. He rested his chin above his knuckles and meekly waited for Alan to initiate conversation.

Alan rubbed his eyes intensely and reached for the glass of water again. He slowly swallowed the remaining contents, along with acceptance of what had happened a few minutes ago and faith that his ears hadn't deceived him at all.

It was clear; he had to give his power to obtain another one. But, was he actually that generous? Was he willing to sacrifice his father's arduous years of hard work for a girl whom he believed unsubstantiated? Will the fall be worth it?

Queries piled up as a deck of cards despite his detest to choose one, because all of them ultimately narrowed down to one question: will you trade your power to protect the girl who supposedly killed your best friend?

"Sir," Hemant's call echoed through his ears as he immediately diverted in his direction.

"I didn't mean to harm you, sir, I simply didn't know this would cause such chaos! Sir, I am deeply sorry for my –"

"It's okay," Alan responded vaguely. He could sense the huge void in his body, which presumably indicated the dearth of energy.

"Sir, let me make one thing clear. Your payment will be your manipulating power, which means you will have to sacrifice your ability only for the duration of your product, am I clear, sir? After one month, you'll get your power back," Hemant comforted, partially on the run to persuade the muddled client faster.

Alan nodded in a solemn manner. It was acceptance he had to intake, not the promotion. He placed his hands on the desk and rested his forehead on them. The darkness submerged his sultry and searing thoughts, rendering a fugitive freedom from the daunting and demanding ambience.

Hemant bridled his urge to pat the young boy's head and give him a proper solace. He had to make things strictly business-oriented, but the benign part of him wanted to give Alan a warm embrace and relieve the emotional trauma he faced.

Alan arose from his self-contemplation and faced the client, his eyes delivered a sense of clarity and alluded a new beginning.

"Hemant," his voice faltered in uneasiness as Hemant's compassionate spectrum dilated in range. Hemant responded with his caring eyes, detaching all commercial motives and replied loudly, "Yes, sir?"

"Will my powers return after a month?"

Hemant noticed the boy's voice wavering in hope as Alan voiced his concern, imbued in apprehension. Alan's fingers fidgeted furiously and his body sweated in pounds despite the heavily air-conditioned room.

Avoiding remarks like 'No, my child!" and the like to keep the deal strictly business-oriented, Hemant answered, "I can assure you that your powers will return back, no matter where you are. Sir, you don't have to worry about treason or betrayal, because magic binds our principles. Magic is pure in its form – it only tends to help humans, not harm them."

Alan bore into his client's eyes and verified the credibility in his words. Summoning all sources of psychological derivations accompanied by a tint of magical experience, Alan's brain confirmed that the man was a paragon of morals. His words weighed in sincerity and support, which made Alan ultimately make his decision, basing his foundation on Hemant's undefiled answer.

"I don't want to take any of your time, Mr. Ahuja. Let's finish the deal."

Hemant nodded, maintaining a good range of stolidness. He patiently waited for the golden words to slip from his client's mouth.

"I am okay with the payment. Let's proceed."

Containing the excitement from exploding abruptly, Hemant asked, "Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes."

Second thoughts were always the primary obstacles that make us confuse our decision, let alone thinking. Alan firmly inlaid roots of confidence, making them permeate and infuse with all the nerves, as he decided to take the road – either taken or untaken.

Hemant instantly proceeded to prepare the paperwork of their contract and hastily banged the keys of his personalized desktop. Taking silent glances at the client, Hemant assured the agent's healthy state and conscious mind.

"Done, sir!"

Hemant rushed towards the hefty printing machine that amassed a huge area and waited for the mundane invention to do its magic. He returned back with the printed paper and placed it on the desk, making his client's eyes wander through its critical contents.

"Please sign here, sir," Alan received the indication with slight cynicism that kept bubbling through his entire time in the Magistrate. Diluting the frothy liquid, Alan hastened to sign the contract, mentally establishing the fact that he cannot back off now. He felt the tension of the atmosphere elevate as Hemant's tilted face and eagle eyes were directed towards his action, making the waves of uneasiness submerge him.

"Thank you, sir!" Hemant immediately grabbed the paper before Alan could check the perfection of his signature. Keeping his mouth zipped from creating further problems, Alan waited for the next orders.

"All the paperwork for this deal has been finalized, sir. Now, for the payment, please go to the laboratory which is located at the right end of the same corridor to hand over your power. Our volunteers and staff will help you if you have difficulty in finding the location."

Alan absorbed his orders and held his hand for a customary shake to conclude the deal. He smiled at his agent and stood up from his seat. As he approached the metal knob of the door, he was halted by his agent.

"Alan!"

Hemant stood up from his recliner and moved out of his desk as he observed Alan turning his face in response to the call.

"I ought to inform you of this as a brother, Alan," Hemant uttered, making Alan as usual confused.

"It is no more a secret that your family has been afflicted with the 'Andrei's death' case, and my intuition is that you have set out to solve the crime because you don't believe that a human had done it."

The thick lines of his brow jumped in astonishment, eyes alarmingly widening the catatonic stupor.

Can I hide anything from these people?

Each and every letter that had leaped out from Hemant's mouth were solid truth with no objections to deny or conceal his statement. Alan shrank his shock-faced intensity and made a practical approach – to listen to Hemant rather than questioning how he knew all of this.

Hemant's stiff features delicated as he took a deep breath, easily throwing the business-mode that he had employed minutes ago. Seeing the young boy eager to listen what he had to say, Hemant said, "You need to know about someone who played a major role in the crime."

He knows the killer?!

Several notions with muffled answers clashed with one another, barricading Alan's ability to comprehend his interlocutor's simple-yet-hard-to-understand statement.

"You know the killer?" he blurted bitingly.

Why had he been quiet the whole time then?

Hemant disregarded Alan's furious question and continued, "Have you heard about any person from Pandora named Romine?"

***

"My goodness! That is so cheap!" Romine shrieked at the reception desk, providing ample amounts of second-hand-embarrassment to the vexed boy beside her.

Avril wanted to run away from the scene but was unfortunately hindered by other customers who stood behind them. Flinging stones of glares hard enough to knock some senses, Avril awkwardly faced the receptionist who stood with a mixed expression of awe and astonishment.

"She's from another worl– I mean, from a different city," Avril reasoned and turned behind to apologize to the customers for her crude behaviour.

"Please fix this room," Avril urged to hasten the process.

The faster I make it out, the better.

"Sure, sir!" the blonde receptionist chirped, "Please wait in the lobby! The room-cleaning is in process, we will hand over the keys once it's over. Please make your payment at the opposite counter!"

***

"We pay around 40 prens for a single room in Pandora! I can't believe the mundane world is so cheap!" Romine exclaimed as Avril returned from the payment counter.

He sat beside his hire and irritatedly bent his neck, reclining on the soft cushions. His eyes displayed a tinge of drowsiness as his body began showing symptoms of fatigue and cramps. They had spent the whole day touring Ariston, a town comparatively far away from Caperwood, to find a temporary abode for his vexatious agent. As he trailed back the tiresome events of skimming through several blocks of illuminating hotels and motels, something within his body stirred in exasperation.

A loud demonic growl erupted within the walls of his fragile body, causing ripples of shudder through his skin. Avril bolted upright, ceasing his sluggishness. He skittishly glanced at his surroundings in search of the growl's owner.

Am I hungry?

A vague question wandered through his mind, flying unnoticed. He had never seen his body growl that ferociously for hunger. Moreover, it did not seem like a growl solely for hunger. It created a sense of burning rage, zeal and malefic within Avril, wanting him to pounce on everyone he encountered with gaze.

Avril panicked as he realized his body was momentarily not his own; something controlled his thoughts and actions. Something wayward with a potential to possibly kill.

"Romine!" Avril panicked, "Did you hear that? That growl? Like a werewolf?"

"What growl?" Romine answered, mouth filled with loads of ice-cream. That's when Avril noticed that the grown-up woman had mixed two contrasting flavors of ice-cream she had brought into a single container and blended them into an awful shade. Despite the disgust and angst after seeing Romine merrily scooping the no-more-ice-cream mixture into her wide garrulous mouth, Avril remained expectant of some befitting answer.

"No," Romine shook her head vigorously as the cream covered her entire lips which she didn't bother to clean.

Avril's apprehensive gamut swelled in size, engulfing his nervous body and drowning his thoughts. As the growling intensified within his gut, Avril sensed the presence of something moving within his body. Something alive.

Don't listen to that woman, Avril!

Avril jerked in bewilderment; his skin turned into a bubble-wrapping-sheet as goosebumps inundated like the flood. The muffled, guttural voice spoke to him, within him and Avril lost all notes of sanity he had in his purse-like mind.

"It's speaking! It's speaking!" Avril freaked in a shrill tone, alarming the ice-cream munching woman to pause her eating. Romine immediately attended to Avril's agitated call and asked "Who? Who's speaking?"

"I don't know! Something – someone is speaking within me! It says – says – not to listen to you!"

Romine raised her brow cynically and rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, Avril! You could have told me directly, instead of putting –"

"No! I am serious!" Avril snapped, his eyes flickering in ire.

"If you are serious, then ask that voice itself!" Romine challenged, crossing her arms as she bent backwards.

Her unseriousness and nonchalance piqued the wrath meter, but Avril decided to follow her bleak suggestion.

"Who – who are you?" Avril stuttered, his voice feebly directed towards himself.

Me? I am everything you have desired for and  are deprived of, Avril!

 I am the light that was surmised to make you shine, I am the darkness that engulfed your heart when bereaved of solace. 

I am the detested fragment of your soul that has been thrashed and mauled by impudent humans, I am the anticipated magic that your body has stifled. 

I am the concealed blessing, waiting to unleash my powers for your benefit, I am the real companion who will never leave your hand.

 I am none other than your alter ego, Avril.

Listening to the voice with a blend of dread and disbelief, Avril narrated each and every word of the proclaimed alter ego with his rigid face washed in terror. Romine leaned forwards from her relaxed posture, her pupils widening in radius, her mind awestruck in stupefaction.

Once Avril had completed his narration, he turned towards Romine. Droplets of sweat rapidly trickled down his edgy face as his hands clutched her wrists in complete terror. His shaky eyes demanded her to answer the identity of the voice, whether she was aware or not.

"Avril," Romine responded as she conjectured her intuition to be the answer, "I think it's your power speaking. It is the shape-shifter within you, who has come out of its cage. Avril, you are speaking to your alternate self. The one you ought to be."