Ambrose Vellum's smile was the kind that might have been kind once.
Now it was a sculpture — precise, practiced, and gleaming with something colder than joy.
He spread his arms. "You have come from far corners of our gray little world, each of you drawn by curiosity, courage… or hunger." His gaze passed over them one by one, and for an instant, Nia felt as if he could see not just her face, but everything beneath it — her fears, her secrets, the way her fingers trembled when she wanted to reach for something she knew she shouldn't.
"You are the first outsiders to set foot in my city since its founding," he continued. "You will see wonders that others can only taste in dreams. And perhaps, if you are very observant, you will learn what sweetness truly costs."
The words hung in the air like perfume.
Lina shifted uncomfortably. "What do you mean, costs?"
Vellum's eyes glittered. "Ah. You'll see soon enough. The tour begins tomorrow. For now, you are my honored guests."
He clapped his hands. Instantly, the attendants moved — silent, precise, like pieces in a clockwork. One handed each child a small box wrapped in gold foil.
"A welcome token," Vellum said. "A taste of what awaits you."
Nia opened hers carefully. Inside lay a single chocolate shaped like an eye. Its surface gleamed with delicate veins of gold leaf.
She hesitated.
"Go on," Vellum urged. "A gift must be accepted to be complete."
The others began to eat. Felix bit his first — his expression flickered from delight to awe. "This—" he breathed. "It's perfect."
Aya took a small nibble and closed her eyes. The colors in her mind flared — scarlet, indigo, black. She whispered something Nia couldn't hear.
Tomas held his between two fingers, watching it glisten. "What's in it?"
"Only what the heart desires most," Vellum said smoothly. "Isn't that what chocolate has always promised?"
Nia's chocolate seemed to pulse faintly in her palm, like something alive. She slipped it back into the box.
Vellum's smile didn't falter, but she thought she saw a shadow cross his eyes — a flicker of something old and hungry.
The attendants led them through another corridor to their quarters. The rooms were exquisite — marble floors, silk curtains, beds that smelled faintly of vanilla. But when Nia touched the wall beside her bed, it felt warm, as if something was moving beneath the surface.
She lay awake for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Through the glass of the dome above, the artificial stars glowed in swirling constellations — too perfect, too precise.
She thought about her mother's warning: Every sweetness hides a price.
From the corridor came a faint sound — a rhythmic hum, low and steady, the same she'd heard from that dark street earlier. She rose and pressed her ear to the door. The hum was stronger here, like a whisper through pipes.
It's alive, she thought suddenly. The city's alive.
A soft knock startled her.
It was Aya, barefoot and pale in the half-light. "You hear it too," she whispered.
Nia nodded.
Aya glanced down the hall. "It's coming from beneath us. There's something under the city."
They listened together. The hum seemed to rise and fall like breathing.
"Do you think it's machines?" Nia asked.
Aya shook her head. "Machines don't dream."
Before Nia could answer, a door creaked somewhere farther down the corridor — Felix's voice murmuring to someone unseen, a shadow shifting against the far wall. Then silence.
The hum continued.
The next morning came too quickly. Sunlight — or whatever passed for it beneath the glass dome — poured through the window, amber and sweet. The attendants appeared precisely on the hour, their smiles unchanged.
Breakfast was served in the Hall of Mirrors, where every wall reflected sugar and light. But Nia barely tasted it. She could still feel the faint vibration under her chair, pulsing from the floor upward.
Vellum entered midway through the meal, his coat immaculate, his gloves spotless. "Good morning, my golden guests," he said. "I trust you slept sweetly?"
Lina nodded enthusiastically. "The pillows were made of marshmallow!"
Vellum chuckled. "Only the best confections for the worthy."
Aya's gaze stayed on him. "Mr. Vellum… what's beneath the city?"
The room seemed to hush. Even the ticking clocks paused, or perhaps she only imagined it.
Vellum tilted his head, his smile gentle but his eyes sharp as a sugar blade. "Ah, Miss Kimura. Such a curious question."
He took a sip from a cup of liquid chocolate, his reflection rippling in its surface. "Beneath every city," he said softly, "there are foundations. Some built of stone… others, of sacrifice. The Chocolate City is no different."
Felix laughed uneasily. "You mean the factories?"
Vellum set the cup down. "Factories, yes. And perhaps something deeper. But that is a story for another time."
He rose, the tails of his coat trailing like smoke. "Come, my children. Today, you will see how dreams are made."
As they followed him out of the hall, Nia glanced back one last time.
In the reflection of the mirrored wall, she thought she saw not six children, but dozens — pale and motionless, standing behind the glass as if waiting for their turn.
When she blinked, the reflections were gone.
The hum from beneath the city deepened, and somewhere, faint and distant, something sighed — a sound that might have been machinery.
Or breathing.