When Viper mentioned the places and warned about the set rules in Neomar, he knew what he had to do.
A small doubt lingered, because it was none other than Viper who told him. Simon remembered clearly when Viper shot one of his companions to prove his loyalty.
But Simon didn't have to dwell on old scars. After that exchange with Viper, he called out to Sara and Julian and laid out his plans.
Quick and swift. Only what they wanted.
Sara to medical, and Julian to the docks, because that was the right place for them.
And for him?
The market. The open playground.
The shouts of people beside the stalls. People were bumping into him as he walked beneath the concrete. No one even gave a short excuse.
Invisible.
He reached for a small stall. Clothes were scattered, some hung loosely from the metal bar, dancing in the flow of the wind.
"How is the day going?" Simon asked as he searched for the right clothes.
"Same as usual," the stall owner replied.
Simon tilted his head slightly and pointed towards a black shirt. "How much?"
"1000."
"Not going any less?"
"Take it or leave it," the stall owner said with a salty tone.
Simon's eyes lifted up to the man, then he let the shirt go. "I'll be back after checking more. Hope you'll change your mind."
The man scoffed as he watched Simon go to the other stalls.
Two men were at the utensils stall. One was wearing a red t-shirt, and the other was green.
The red one pointed towards the sets of cutlery, "One set.
The vendor's hands instinctively reached for a set of cutlery, "400."
The red one glanced back at the green one.
The green one replied lazily, "Looks solid."
The red one nodded slightly and took out the cash. Without counting, he handed it over to the vendor and took the set of cutlery.
An older man arrived and asked for a knife. The vendor named the price; the older man took out the cash and handed it over. Then he put the knife in a shopping bag and went off to another stall.
Simon watched the rhythm. Speak. Pay. Leave.
No bargaining. No quality check. No haggling over which items to buy.
He also approached the stall and pointed towards a small knife. It looked very cheap. "That knife."
The vendor acted as if he didn't notice.
Simon waited, but the man seemed lost in some other world. He crouched down and extended his hand to grab the knife. Another took the knife; Simon's brows twitched slightly.
He looked at the vendor; his expression looked somewhat hostile. "I already said 1000."
He did?
"Too much for something that small."
"The price is always the same," the man replied, "Take it or leave it. Just don't waste my time."
Simon stood up and walked away from the stall.
Not invisible.
He kept walking forward, his eyes wandering over his surroundings. The patterns everywhere felt the same. Maybe this was the rule Viper mentioned.
A man wearing round glasses bought something from the stall. Both his hands were full with heavy bags, which kept bumping into people as he walked with great effort. Then his steps stopped abruptly.
A young man, around twenty-four years old, was walking towards his path. He quickly moved to the side. His eyes dropped as he let that man pass.
A deliberate avoidance.
Simon didn't try to think, but everything here kept telling him. The whole place somehow knew who he was and his motives for coming here.
The place itself was rejecting him. But why?
Would it break the rhythm of this whole stage?
Simon remembered clearly now. "He was behaving similarly."
His gaze landed on a woman now. She looked to be in her late thirties, wearing simple clothes, and she looked a little hesitant.
In front of her was a fruit stall. The fruits were lined up neatly, the price tags above them.
Her eyes remained focused on the fruits. Then she extended her hand slowly to check the healthy ones, but it stopped suddenly. Her lips moved awkwardly. She quickly took the cash from her purse and placed it on top of the fruits.
A moment later she grabbed a plastic bag and left the store. Her eyes darted at the items. As she passed by him, her eyes lifted, then quickly averted their pace.
Walking away quickly.
Simon ignored the chaos surrounding him and walked deeper. Something told him there was more.
Maybe an answer? Or anything which explains this situation?
He didn't know, but he can't back off yet.
The air started to shift as he kept walking. The sounds thinned. The chaos shifted to something more calm. Here, each stall told him a different story altogether.
In place of food and items for regular usage, something different had taken place. The smell of raw metal, blood-soaked hides hanging tightly from the wire, and something indescribable… like a chemical or something.
He had crossed the unseen boundary. No one needed to tell him that.
A man sitting on a carpet lifted two fingers at his eyes, then pointed at the ground in front of him. A wide grin was plastered over his face.
Simon glanced at it. The long knives, sharp and sturdy. He knew those weren't just for cutting vegetables. He ignored it and kept walking.
Another stall came into view. It barely looked like one, the worn and dirty clothes supported by wood. One strong wind and the whole circus would be underwater.
The man behind it was watching every person who passed by, with a smile on lips covered with a big beard. He noticed Simon. Without wasting any time, he voiced out, "I know what you are looking for. Come and take it."
Simon stopped this time.
On the table, small vials were neatly arranged. Black glass. Whatever was hiding was hard to tell.
The man smiled as Simon reached for him. "You are just here on time, my friend."
Simon didn't answer and let the man talk.
The man moved a little closer and picked up a vial. He said in a low voice, "Just take one; I'm sure both of you will be happy."
Simon's brows twitched slightly, and he looked up. "Both?"
"Yes. You and your partner who is waiting for you in the dark. I'm sure she is getting impatient. If you don't make a move soon," the man paused, "she might walk away."
Aphrodisiacs, Simon thought and stated, "I'm not looking for that."
"Oh..." The man remarked, "but your face tells something entirely different. Aren't you here to fix something? This might be your only chance."
The man waited for Simon's answer, then added, "It's not a problem if you swing the other way. It works for everyone."
"Fix," Simon muttered to himself.
But the man heard it clearly. "Yes. Fix. Everything."
"You sure?"
The man gave a short laugh, then said casually. "Nothing is sure in this world. And that's the point. Even I can't guarantee this will fix everything for you. But... It will give you something everyone wants."
The man pressed the vial to Simon's chest. "A chance. A hope. That things can still be fixed. The energy to keep you going. The joy for you to feel together. Just one gulp—that's all it would take."
Simon looked at the vial lightly pressed against his chest, and said, "What about the side effects?"
"Trust." The man smiled, "and you'll stop asking stupid questions like this."
Simon reached for the vial and asked. "How much?"
"Fixed," the man took back the vial before Simon could touch it. "Same for everyone."
Simon straightened. "Do people stop coming back after fixing?"
The man looked at him, expression flat. "Normally, yes."
Simon watched the vial for a moment then excused himself. "I'll come when I really need it."
The man smirked faintly, and watched Simon go.
At the next stall, a woman leaned forward before Simon even stopped.
"You are late," she said, smiling.
He stepped closer, glancing back once. No one was there. "Why me?"
"That's a very good question," she said, her eyes didn't move from his face. "And the answer is written all over your face."
"And what does it say?"
"Hm," she nodded and searched for something in drawers, but she couldn't seem to find it. "Looks like I forgot the mirror at home."
Simon didn't answer and waited for her to continue.
She sighed and looked at him with a soft gaze. "You look tired. Tired from holding everything around you together. But you are also afraid of letting it all go. The pain..." She tried to reach his face. Simon quickly took a step back, "the sleepless nights. It says everything. You are crumbling slowly, and if you keep going? You'll reach there before the appointed time."
"You are late, but it can still be repaired," She added at the end.
"How?"
"With this." She lifted a small black bottle. Then shook it slowly and a light yellow-colored tablet came out. "It can give you enough strength to hold on much longer. To keep you functional."
"Functional...." Simon muttered to himself.
But she heard it clearly, and replied softly, "Yes, functional."
"For how long?"
"It's all up to you—decide how much you are willing to. But keep in mind that it can only delay. Some things are just already decided."
"What are the side effects?"
"Side effects?" She gave a short laugh, "The only side effect is you have to keep coming here."
He reached for the tablet in her hand and asked. "How many are there in one bottle?"
She quickly pulled it away, "Don't be hasty. First the payment, then checking later."
Simon felt a déjà vu inside him, but he didn't let it appear on his face, "How much?"
"Same as yesterday. Same as tomorrow."
"I'll think about it later." Simon turned around and excused himself.
She put the tablet back in the bottle, and said. "Don't take forever."
He ignored her and kept walking.