The morning sun had barely broken through the mall's giant skylights when Max called out over the rumble of the rust bucket's engine, "I'm going to check out the spice bazaar—see if there's any rare saffron or exotic peppers in those little shops."
Ben stretched, eyelids heavy but brightening at the promise of gingerbread latte from the café. "Could it kill you to just get plain pancakes?" he grumbled, stepping onto the polished floor tiles that reflected the overhead neon signs.
Gwen laughed, looping an arm through Fred's. "Normal dishes are overrated. But a cone of mint-chocolate chip would hit the spot."
Fred yawned wide, producing a bag of rippling chips from his jacket pocket. "I'll stick with these, thanks. And maybe a smoothie later." He shrugged as Ben bounded for the café, Gwen headed for the ice cream stand, and Max slipped through a corridor of bustling storefronts toward the specialty spice stalls.
The mall's midday crowd bustled all around them: parents juggling shopping bags, teenagers scrolling on their phones, and the rich aroma of cinnamon buns wafting from a bakery kiosk. Fred munched thoughtfully on kettle-cooked potato chips, eyes lingering on a candy store's pastel jars. Gwen savored the tip of her ice cream cone, each lick chilling the warm air. Ben sipped a strawberry-basil smoothie, marveling at its sweet-tangy swirl.
As they wandered past a fountain that rippled in rainbow hues from built-in LED lights, a small cluster of onlookers gathered ahead, eyes fixed on a makeshift stage draped with velvet curtains. A single microphone stand trembled under a spotlight's glow, and a banner overhead read: "Sublimino: Master Hypnotist!"
Ben rolled his smoothie in his hand and muttered, "Great name. Sublimino…like limbo, but sadder." Gwen shot him a half-smile. "You're just bitter you didn't think of it first."
They edged closer, sweeping aside a quartet of yawning shoppers to get a better look. The stage was simple: two floor speakers, a platform only a foot high, and a folding chair draped in burgundy cloth. A lone spotlight flickered as someone in an ill-fitting tuxedo stepped into view, arms raised like he was greeting an army.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the man boomed into the mic, voice high and shaky, "welcome to the incredible mind-bending extravaganza of Sublimino!" A polite cough rippled through the crowd. Fred sipped his chips, unimpressed.
Ben leaned in, sotto voce: "He looks like my dentist on a particularly caffeinated morning."
Gwen's eyes glimmered with mischief. "Do you think he could hypnotize us?"
"Only if you've got half a brain," Ben whispered back, eyes twinkling. "And—"
"Hey!" Gwen cut in, arm flicking as she used a sliver of pink mana to lift Ben's left hand high above his head. His eyes widened.
"Nice trick," he muttered to her under his breath.
Sublimino's lip curled at the side. "Ah! A volunteer! Come on up, good sir!" He pointed dramatically. Ben opened his mouth to object—
—then found himself stepping forward, mop of hair bobbing as the crowd thinned before him. Two elderly volunteers—one with a floral handbag, the other hoisting a walker—were ushered up as well. Fred watched, brow furrowed. "Somehow, I think this is going to go horribly wrong." He tapped Ben on the shoulder. "Break a leg, buddy."
Ben offered a flat smile. "Thanks… I guess."
On stage, Sublimino settled into the chair, sliding one wrist over the mic stand. "Now, first, we clear the mind. Everyone close your eyes—relax." He produced a gleaming pocket watch, its surface etched with twirling galaxies. With a practiced flourish, he swung it in a slow pendulum arc. "Focus on the swing… feel your brow growing heavy… sleep beckons…"
The crowd dutifully blinked up at the watch, but most faces remained stubbornly alert. Only the first granny let out a giant yawn. Sublimino's mustache drooped in disappointment.
With a muttered curse, he jolted upright and patted inside his jacket. "I said volunteers!" He whipped out a second watch, far more ornate—its casing carved with runic symbols. The crowd gasped as he pressed a hidden button.
Suddenly, Ben felt a twitch at the base of his skull—a gentle pressure, like a soft vibration pulsing through his brain. He stepped backward, smoothie nearly toppling from his hand. "Huh… what—"
Behind him, the two elders slumped onto the edge of the stage, heads lolling in perfect unison. Their eyes glazed over; soft snores escaped their pursed lips. Sublimino clapped with glee. "Marvelous!" he crowed.
Ben froze, realization dawning. "Gwen," he hissed, "we've got a problem."
Gwen, eyes narrowed, studied Sublimino's second watch. "That's not hypnosis—it's a sonic-frequency transmitter." She narrowed her gaze at Ben's chest. Sure enough, a faint glow pulsed from a tiny device clipped to his shirt. "Your anti-hypo chip!" She tapped it, and the glow flickered then died.
Behind the stage, Sublimino's watch sputtered with crackles of green static. He pressed the button again—once, twice—growing frantic as the watch's pendulum arm shuddered. Each time, Ben shook his head, unaffected. Sublimino's face contorted with disbelief.
"Why won't this stupid contraption work on you?" he spat, voice cracking. He jabbed the watch at Ben. "Explain that!"
Ben flashed back a glare. "Maybe you should read the instruction manual."
In a final, desperate push, Sublimino slammed his fist onto the watch's center. Sparks flew. The device let out a shrill whine—then exploded in a burst of violet energy. A wave pulsed outward, shimmering across the mall's polished floors.
In an instant, the assembled crowd went limp—ten, twenty, fifty people collapsing like dominos across the tile. The two volunteers slumped deeper onto the stage, Granny's shoes tapping the microphone stand as she dozed.
Ben and Gwen ducked instinctively: Gwen created a quick pink mana barrier around them and Fred—flat-out refusing to be outdone—tucked behind a kiosk and cocooned himself in potato-chip armor. The air crackled with static.
Sublimino himself staggered backward, blinking in a daze. "No!" he snarled, twisting the dangling wires of his watch. "No, no, this isn't over!"
He glanced around wildly, breathing heavy. Then, spotting the three of them—Ben, Gwen, Fred—he straightened, fury flashing through his eyes. "You! That's your doing!" He waved a gauntlet in their direction.
Behind him, the silent watchers began to twitch—hands drifting and bodies rising. Sublimino's lips curled into a savage grin. "My army…retrieve those two!" he commanded, voice echoing off the high ceilings.
"Here we go," Fred muttered, sprinting forward to meet the first of Sublimino's hypnotized legion.
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