Lance Blue bit into the pancake with the extra egg. The savory sauce and crisp cracker melted together in his mouth, a taste familiar to his very bones.
But today, that taste carried an indescribable trace of bitterness.
He was influencing them.
Lance Blue was basically certain now that he really was influencing them, subtly and imperceptibly.
This realization was like a tiny thorn lodged in the “of course” he had relied on to survive for ten years.
He had always thought Mrs. Carter gave him pancakes because he was sweet-talking and kept her company.
Jake gave him bread because he helped out with chores.
The familiar people on this street were kind to him because he was a “pitiful but sensible” orphan.
But what if the beginning of all this was a pull of fate that even he himself had never noticed?
What if Mrs. Carter was staying not merely out of habit or attachment, but because his existence had affected her?
Lance Blue put down the half-eaten pancake.
For no reason at all, he was full... He could not swallow another bite.
...
"What’s wrong, Lance? Is the sauce too salty today?"
Mrs. Carter noticed his movement.
"No, it’s good." Lance Blue forced out a smile and carefully wrapped up the rest of the pancake. "I’ll save it for tonight."
He hopped off his little stool and tucked the wrapped pancake into his pocket. "Mrs. Carter, I... I’m going to check on Jake."
"Go on, go on. If you get hungry tonight, come back. I’ll save you some batter." Mrs. Carter waved him off, her attention returning to a newly arrived customer.
Lance Blue nodded and turned toward the convenience store.
His steps felt somewhat heavy.
............
Jake was facing away from the entrance, arranging the shelves and humming an off-key pop song.
He did not notice at all that Lance Blue had been standing behind him for over a minute.
"Jake." After working up to it for a long time, Lance Blue finally called out.
"Hey, Lance!"
Jake turned around. The dark circles from staying up late still lingered beneath his eyes, but he looked to be in pretty good spirits.
"I was just looking for you. We got a batch of yogurt close to its expiration date today—the plain kind. That’s your favorite, right? I saved two bottles for you."
Again.
Lance Blue walked over and accepted the yogurt Jake took out from beneath the counter.
The cold bottle pressed against his palm.
"Thank you, Jake." He spoke softly, then paused before asking,
"Jake, have you... ever thought about changing jobs? Or moving to another district?"
Jake had been bending over to count the cigarette inventory. At the question, he paused, straightened up, and looked at him strangely.
"Why are you suddenly asking that? Did Mrs. Carter’s daughter come to persuade her to move again? Did that get to you?"
"No..." Lance Blue did not know how to explain.
"It’s just... it feels like you’ve always been here."
Jake smiled, carrying that easygoing laziness Lance Blue found familiar.
"This place is nice. The work isn’t hard, the manager’s a decent guy, and I know all the neighbors. Besides..." He lowered his voice, his tone teasing. "If I leave, who’s going to save you yogurt close to its expiration date and discounted rice balls?"
The words were as light as a feather, yet they landed a little heavily in Lance Blue’s heart.
Jake’s tone was relaxed, and the emotions Lance Blue sensed from him were, as usual, gentleness mixed with a little fatigue.
Lance Blue tightened his grip on the yogurt bottle.
"Jake."
He raised his head, his lake-blue eyes fixed on Jake. "If... I mean, if one day you suddenly really wanted to leave here and go see somewhere else, would you go?"
Jake was taken aback by the question and scratched his head.
"When I feel like leaving... I’ll just leave, I guess. But life’s going along just fine. Why think about that?"
He patted Lance Blue on the shoulder. "Lance, did hearing Mrs. Carter and her daughter argue make you overthink things? Adult matters are complicated, so don’t dwell on them. Focus on growing taller and studying. That’s more important than anything."
Lance Blue did not press any further.
He knew he would not get anything out of asking. Jake himself would probably only attribute it to habit, or to life being manageable enough.
Maybe the influence Elliot had spoken of was just like this: invisible and intangible, like air, like water. People living within it grew accustomed to it and could not even feel its existence, much less question where it came from.
But Lance Blue could feel it. Or rather, he was beginning to be forced to feel it.
Lance Blue could also feel that the Lance Blue who had once cared only about himself was becoming more and more concerned with other people’s affairs...
...
Over the following days, Lance Blue became somewhat quiet.
He still went to the community center to study, still helped Mrs. Carter pack up her stall, and still chatted idly with Jake, but he began observing more closely and concentrating more intently on other people’s emotions.
Old Li, who repaired shoes on the street corner, always happened to have an extra pair of newly repaired insoles in a size suited to Lance Blue’s old shoes whenever he passed by.
Grandma Liu, who loved growing flowers on the balcony of the building across the street, always fussed with the pot of jasmine in fullest bloom by the window whenever he looked up, as though she knew he liked its fragrance.
Even the man who came every week to collect recyclables always happened to clean the area around the newspaper kiosk especially thoroughly.
These were all small things, the most ordinary kindness between neighbors.
Before, Lance Blue would only have felt fortunate that he had encountered so many good people.
But now, he could not help wondering:
Was it really a coincidence?
Or was he like a magnet, unwittingly adjusting the tiny currents of the people and affairs around him, allowing kindness to naturally gather at his side?
The discovery did not make him feel warm. Instead, it gave rise to a secret panic.
He was like an ignorant gardener who had accidentally scattered seeds without knowing what would grow from them, much less how to tend them.
The number on his wrist ticked upward with extreme slowness over the next few days: [124].
The increase came from a new female volunteer at the community center, because she thought he looked adorable sitting quietly and reading.
A tiny bit of trust, born from an ordinary moment.
It seemed unrelated to the invisible influence he might possess.
That let him relax a little.
Maybe things were not as mysterious as Elliot had implied. Or perhaps his influence was negligible, nowhere near enough to truly alter the course of someone else’s life.
He tried to convince himself.
...............
It was still Union Year 23.
On an utterly ordinary afternoon, Lance Blue sat on a park bench—his office.
He was completing the literacy homework Elliot had assigned him.
The late-autumn sunlight was thin, falling across the paper and making the pencil writing look somewhat pale.
Not far away, several middle-aged men sat around a stone table playing chess. A radio was on at low volume, broadcasting the midday news.
"...Recently, the Hero Association issued a notice stating that, in response to the recent frequent hero conflicts, monitoring across all districts has been strengthened..."
"...The highly watched rising-generation hero Carnival, following the successful handling of a large-scale riot in District Thirteen, has seen Trust Value continue to soar and is approaching the five-million mark."
"Having broken the record for the fastest hero promotion since the Union era began, the prestige of FOMO, the Hero Office to which he belongs, has risen in tandem. It is expected to claim the title of ‘X’ at the upcoming Twelfth Hero Ranking Tournament."
"...Additionally, reports indicate that the recent activity routes of veteran heroes Vortex and Fracture have shown signs of overlapping on the outskirts of District Seventy. The Association has advised relevant areas to be alert for possible conflicts..."
One of the men playing chess clicked his tongue and reached out to lower the radio’s volume.
"More hero news. It makes people nervous listening to it. As long as they don’t fight their way over here, that’s all that matters."
"You’re overthinking it, Old Zhang. District Seventy has been peaceful for years. Those big shots are all making trouble in the central districts," another man said dismissively.
"Hard to say. Didn’t they just say their routes might overlap on the outskirts of District Twelve? Who knows whether things might get out of hand..."
Their conversation drifted into Lance Blue’s ears. He stopped writing and looked up.
The heroes Vortex and Fracture?
He remembered those two names.
Elliot’s reference book had briefly mentioned them. They were the two chief heroes under MG and DOS, respectively, both ranked extremely highly by the Association.
The two of them had each already won the title of ‘X’ twice. Within the current hero system, they were dominant presences.
X was a title only heroes who won the Hero Ranking Tournament were entitled to bear, and only heroes in the Association’s top ten were qualified to participate in that tournament in the first place.
The outskirts of District Seventy...
Lance Blue looked toward the familiar street scene beyond the park. Mrs. Carter’s pancake stall should still be giving off steam. Sunlight reflected from the glass doors of Jake’s convenience store. Farther away stood his tiny newspaper kiosk.
An inexplicable unease slipped quietly into his collar like a cold wind.
He shook his head, casting off the unexplained feeling.
He lowered his head and continued his homework. The pencil moved over the paper with a soft scratch, scratch.
The sunlight shifted again, stretching his shadow long and slanting it across the withered yellow grass beside the bench.
Everything looked so peaceful, so ordinary.
In the distant sky, several thin clouds were drawn into long, slender strands by high-altitude winds. In a slow, ominous manner, they drifted toward the city.
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