"Pengal... Shimerone?"
The name seemed to be suspended in the air. Hakim's fire poker clattered to the ground as he stared up at the tall, mannequin-like figure donned in a fraying gray robe. Pengal closed his eyes, flashing a friendly grin at Hakim as he was let into the house.
"Mister Shimerone," Elize stood up, straightening out her dress, "It's truly an honour to have a member of The Unification Department visit our humble household. Please allow me to serve some refreshments."
"Thank you," Pengal nodded his head, "That sounds lovely." Sinking down onto the armchair, Pengal leaned forward and rested his knees on his thighs. His fingers interlocked as he stared intently at Ansel, an unreadable look in his eyes.
The sound of Elize working in the kitchen carried over into the living room as Hakim came back to his senses and stood beside the couch.
"Mr Pengal," Hakim spoke in a measured tone, "...please forgive my son for the commotion he caused at the bazaar today!" He bowed at an almost ninety-degree angle, "He is but a child! And I assure you, Ansel is not responsible for the vile act committed upon Mr Yoran—"
"But he is responsible," Pengal interrupted, "I'm ninety-nine percent sure. Let's see..." Pengal brought a finger up to his eye, plunging the finger knuckle-deep into his pupil.
Hakim had to suppress his urge to retch on the spot.
Ansel watched as Pengal dug into his own eye with a curious expression. "Mister Pengal," he spoke, "Why are you poking your eye?"
"Ansel was your name, hm?" Pengal slowly extracted his finger from his eyeball. "I was checking the visual information stored within my drone-eyes— the recording of the... bizarre incident this morning..."
Ansel let out a giggle at the obvious pun, earning back a genuine smile from Pengal.
"You... you were there this morning?" Hakim asked, his expression growing dire.
"Indeed. I was actually grocery shopping when the incident occurred. And now that I have checked the footage, I can say one thing for certain." Pengal raised a finger, "Ansel Einchalle stabbed Mister Fachil Yoran."
The door to the kitchen opened as Elize walked out, carrying a tray of steaming-hot tea alongside a platter of sweet biscuits. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting long, Mister Shimerone."
"Don't worry," Pengal chuckled, "as long as the tea is sweet."
Placing the tray down atop the coffee table, she took a seat beside her son and forced a stiff smile.
"Let me repeat it once more," Pengal cleared his throat, "Ansel Einchalle is responsible for the stabbing of Mister Fachil Yoran."
Elize's face drained of colour. Looking at her husband, she realised he was struck by the same ghostly pallor. Looking at Ansel, she saw her son fidgeting with his fingers, his gaze directed at his lap. 'He isn't saying anything. He isn't denying anything. He's too young to understand.'
"That can't be true." Elize spoke up.
"Oh?" Pengal leaned forward once more, raising an eyebrow in interest. "...And why can't it be true?"
Elize's throat felt dry all of a sudden. She wanted to provide some definitive proof— something purely objective to show Ansel's innocence. After a few ephemeral seconds of contemplation, all she had was: "He's just a young boy... h-he could never hurt Mister Yoran, let alone stab him."
Pengal sighed, glancing at Ansel.
Ansel was lost in his own thoughts. 'Did I do the right thing? Did I have to stab him? What if I killed him? I could've just punched him instead?' Regret spun around his mind like a vortex, until a grounding weight placed itself on his shoulders.
His mother's hand. Looking at his mother's warm expression, Ansel couldn't help but try to smile. "I stabbed Mister Yoran."
Hakim and Elize's eyes slightly widened in shock, but their emotions didn't waver.
"Please, Mister Shimerone," Hakim stepped forward, "We will do anything to make up for the harm thrust upon Mister Yoran by our family. All that my wife and I ask is to consider Ansel's—"
"I think it was wonderful." Pengal grinned— this time, it was a real grin.
Elize and Hakim opened their mouths in shock. 'Wonderful?'
"None of us at the Unity Department really liked Yoran anyway. He was a nuisance— an arrogant nuisance at that. Well, he was needed for monitoring the state of the bazaar's transactions, but... seeing his pride get humbled was truly a joyous experience. The last thing I want to do is punish young Ansel for his chivalrous display."
Hakim felt the air leave his lungs. 'Is this man really a Unity Officer?'
Ansel blinked twice, his mouth opening and closing as he fished for words. His hazel gaze narrowed in on Pengal, feeling a brief sense of camaraderie with the officer. "You... really don't want to punish me? Even though I did something bad?"
"Is it bad to do something bad to a bad person?" Pengal tilted his head.
"Yeah... a bad thing is a bad thing."
"Heh, you have a long way to go."
'Long way to go?' Elize pondered, watching as Pengal chugged his tea in one fell swoop. "Mr Shimerone, may I ask why you came to visit us today?" She felt like she was overstepping her boundaries, but Pengal's choice of words made it clear that he expected something from Ansel.
"You see," Pengal gestured with his hand, "I am an accessor. I have a broken chord of sight, which grants me this special ability. Simply put, my eyes are not my own. Think of each as an individual being which can choose to relay information to my brain. They are eye-drones."
"So... your eyes are people?" Ansel asked.
"No, my eyes are much dumber than the average person. Lefty over here was caught surveilling you," he said, pointing to his left eye. "My left eye has the ability to detach from my body, acting as a surveillance drone and transmitting visual information to my brain with a slight delay. That's what I used to follow you."
"My right eye..." he pointed to his right eye, "Has the ability to store visual information in my brain. I can access it any time, and modify and inspect that visual data in any way I see fit. This includes slowing it down."
"I see," Hakim spoke, "...But the reason you're here. Does that mean Ansel—"
"Yes, Ansel is an accessor. Or I think so, at least." Pengal continued to point at his right eye as he spoke, "When analysing the footage of the incident, I slowed the playback speed down into small fragments. When lowering the speed, I could clearly observe young Ansel moving at a normal speed."
Hakim's brow furrowed as Pengal's words registered. Glancing at his wife, who was struggling to understand the premise, Hakim asked a question: "...By how much did you slow down the playback speed?"
"By two hundred thousand times."
Hakim went silent.
"There are only two explanations. Either Ansel is a highly skilled agility-type accessor, or..." Pengal glanced at Ansel with an unreadable glimmer in his eyes, "...he is something else entirely."
Pengal got up from the armchair, kneeling in front of Ansel. Staring into the young boy's eyes, he asked: "Is there anything you can tell me? What happened when you stabbed Mister Yoran?"
Ansel couldn't meet Pengal's gaze. The whole situation felt nerve-racking, yet he felt no imminent danger. What was that glimmer in Pengal's eyes? Was it excitement? Or was it dread? "...Everything just stopped."
"Stopped?"
"Everything went black-and-white... and just stopped."
"I see," Pengal stood up and clapped his hands. "I would like to offer the Einchalle family a proposal."