Steam drifted through the kitchens in slow ribbons. The hiss of tempering machines and the rhythmic scrape of metal spatulas wove a strange music that filled the air. Overhead, the copper pipes pulsed faintly, carrying molten sweetness through the veins of the city.
Felix made several attempts at work, but his mind wasn't on his slab. His gaze kept drifting to that sealed tray at the edge of the counter. The sugar thread which bound the lid had cooled from red to gold. The glow throbbed faintly, as if it were aware of being watched.
He had wondered how it would feel, tasting the forbidden chocolate, the rarest creation of Ambrose Vellum, meant only for the unseen "Citizens Below." One taste, and he may understand the secret behind the man's genius. One taste, and maybe the city would recognize him as more than another guest.
"Felix," Nia said quietly, "don't."
He smiled, a quick flash of charm that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm only curious."
"Curiosity here gets people in trouble."
"Only if they are caught."
Aya had stopped sketching. Her hands were pale, smudged with chocolate dust. "It's breathing," she whispered. "That tray. You feel it too?"
Felix hesitated. He almost laughed — almost — but there was something alive in the air, a soft pulse that pressed against his chest. He turned away before Vellum could notice. The Confectioner was at the far end of the room, instructing Tomas on how to coax shine from cooled sugar. The attendants moved like ghosts, silent and precise. No one was watching the tray.
Felix's heart quickened. He wiped his hands, crossed the floor, and stood before the forbidden molds. The black glass reflected him — pale face, eager eyes, faint smudge of chocolate at his jaw. It shimmered strangely, as though it wanted to look back.
He reached out and touched the edge of the lid. The sugar-seal hummed beneath his fingers: warm, alive, waiting.
Aya murmured behind him, "Don't touch what hasn't been offered."
Felix whispered in return, "Maybe it's offering itself."
He lifted the lid.
A wave of scent rolled out — sweet, heavy, and wrong. It was chocolate, yes, but combined with something deeper, the memory of smoke or the first breath of a storm. Inside, the molds were no longer still. The surface of each heart-shaped form quivered, rippling in slow motion.
Felix stared, rapt. "It's magnificent."
He reached out one finger and brushed a glossy edge. The chocolate clung to his skin like silk. Without thinking, he brought it to his lips.
There was a moment of bliss. Pure, impossible bliss - warmth spreading through his mouth, along his tongue, down his throat. Then something colder underneath, a strange echo that made him shiver.
Aya gasped. "Felix!"
He turned toward her, ready to laugh — but the sound caught in his throat. The air around him had thickened; even the light seemed slower, dimmer. The heartbeat he had heard earlier now pounded inside his ears, matching his pulse.
He blinked. The world rippled. For the briefest moment he thought he saw the kitchens not as marble and glass but as something breathing — walls rising and falling, floors threaded with red veins of light. Then the vision snapped back, leaving him dizzy.
Felix gripped the counter. "I'm fine," he said, forcing a smile. "See? It's just—
The thread of sugar he'd broken started to glow again, this time bright scarlet. The molds trembled, a faint hiss escaping them like a sigh. The scent thickened, sharper now, almost metallic.
Vellum stopped talking at the far end of the room. His head lifted slowly, as though he'd heard a chord go out of tune.
"Felix Moreau," he said, his voice soft but carrying. "What have you done?"
The other children drew back. Felix's grin faltered. "I didn't— It was nothing. Just a taste."
Vellum crossed the floor without hurry, his shadow stretching long behind him. "You were told the first rule," he said. "Do not touch what has not been offered."
Felix swallowed. "It was only—
"Only chocolate?" Vellum's eyes caught the light, turning the colour of molten amber. "My dear boy, in this city nothing is only chocolate."