"Please!"

Those were the only words Alan remembered at that moment despite fifteen years of learning English.

"Please don't tell my father!" his voice laced with angst pleaded for the old man's mercy.

"Token number 1516, please go to room number 4!" the mechanical voice reiterated in its monotonous tone, promptly alerting the client. However, the client paid no heed to the announcement.

Alan was doused in waves of sweat; his eyes protruded in fear and his puny heart trembled in dread of being caught. 

How can I be so careless?

The receipt he had left out of absent-mindedness had his name clearly printed in bold Times New Roman calligraphy and the snoopy man's nettlesome eyes had viewed it merrily.

The old man gazed at Alan's face endearingly. He was quite perplexed about his sudden motion of appeal, however, he pieced their earlier conversation and drew a happy conclusion, which turned in favour of Alan.

"I see! Is the birthday party celebration you mentioned earlier for your father?" the man exclaimed curiously.

Alan remained silent. He was dumbfounded about how, for the first time, his lie had helped him in escaping the biggest mayhem of his life.

"Yes!" he nodded fervently as his eyes glistened in glee.

"I want to make his birthday memorable. So please sir, do not mention my identity to anyone."

The man chuckled fondly. He gently patted the manipulator's tousled hair and shrieked, "Attaboy! Don't worry, son! Your secret is safe with me!"

Alan felt like a preschooler confiding his secrets to a grandfather, who had promised to keep it secure. His smile widened as he thanked the man graciously for helping him out.

Alan grabbed the receipt from the man and maintaining his amiable look this time, he merrily waved back and headed towards room number four.

***

If the shimmering banner titled 'Pandora's Special Agent' had not been hung in the door, then Alan would have terribly mistaken the room he entered to be that of a doctor.

The mystic silence breached the lumber walls of the room as a young man, approximately in his twenties, was seated behind a sleek mahogany office desk. His tawny hair that parted in ways aslant toned immaculately with his auburn attire and gave a gracious view of his tanned skin. The soft bronze cushions of the recliner appeared to be of no use as the SPA arched with his hazel eyes glimmering under the tube light scanning various printed sheets spontaneously.

The young man jerked slightly on witnessing the arrival of his umpteenth customer of the day and smiled courteously.

"Hello!" His baritone voice was accompanied by a 'please-sit' gesture.

Alan welcomed the sweetness with a fatigued face that contained a pair of weary eyes, a subdued smile; he had just escaped a garrulous menace and he was too tired to give some wholesome response. Sitting in front of the agent, Alan felt the atmosphere he resided in similar to an interviewing session.

"Welcome to Pandora's Pacting Magistrate!" the young man introduced as Alan sighed internally.

I have been hearing this the whole day and I think my ears are bleeding!

"I am Hemant Ahuja, and I will be your SPA for the day!"

"Hi Hemant!" Alan fake-exclaimed, "Nice to meet you! I am Alan!"

"Alteiner..." Hemant emphasized as he held the report paper of his client and gradually skimmed through its contents.

"So, how can I help the superhero?" Hemant beamed, fueling Alan's vivid temper.

Not again!

"Firstly, I don't want anyone to know that I was here, including my family."

Alan assumed he had made a terrorizing image of himself by his blunt demand. He felt his face flaming in a shade of crimson as the tension in his body elevated while awaiting a response.

Yes. Don't be sweet anymore. No one deserves it.

"Sure, sir," Hemant responded with the same calmness undeterred, "We agents are committed to maintain privacy of our client's details, even from our colleagues! It is one of our binding principles and if we ever disobeyed the rules, then magic will play its part and reveal our mistakes."

Alan listened to him intently and slowly began relaxing his tensed nerves.

This is far better. Now all I have to do is begin the deal...

"Trust is the first service we offer, sir," Hemant continued pompously, "So rest assured, your service and identity will remain a secret for the entirety of this organization's duration."

"Okay," Alan approved in a humdrum manner. Initializing his privacy and security, Alan moved towards his motive.

"I want a type of service that provides invisibility to the user."

Alan noticed the agent's eyes widened parallelly with his lips as Hemant careened to open the desk's drawer. Hemant's hands rummaged through the pile of records zealously and immediately laid hands on a new book.

"Great, sir!" he shrieked as he merrily opened the first page of a new record.

Is it an expensive service?

Alan paced with lack of clarity. Why was the man so cheerful all of a sudden?

"Also, thank you sir!" Hemant almost brimmed with tears and Alan found this situation unruly to laugh.

"For what?"

"For finally asking me for a service that is actually good!"

"I am sorry, but I don't understand," Alan laid out his confusion to the agent.

"I am a short-term service provider so I always get clients with very small-level services like a two-minute birthday celebration or hair-color-changing potion. I always wanted to do big orders like my colleagues and now you have made it sir!"

Hemant's emotional flashback was of no use as Alan's inwardly-irritated attitude pertained to increased velocity. He was more vexed than ever.

Everyday someone keeps testing my patience!

"Oh," he replied awkwardly.

"Anyways sir, we'll get back to business," Hemant proceeded, noticing his client's languid look, "How long do you want the invisibility to stay?"

"A month would be fine."

"A month?"

"Yes," Alan responded to his shriek placidly.

"Okay, sir!" Hemant gave his fake cry that he had been trained for the entirety of his college days, "We have the perfect service tailored to meet your needs."

His attempt to make their conversation a bit more interesting and exuberant was relentlessly knocked off by the phlegmatic Alan. Still, Hemant continued his rhetoric speeches because that's what he was paid for: to convince the customer.

"The latest product designed by the Invisibility Unit should be apt for your situation! It contains a small golden vial filled with the lauded and famous nevidim draught, which is exclusively crafted by a team of brewers from Bulgaria. The nevidim draught is an ancient potion recipe found by the –"

"How does it work?" Alan interfered, placing his sleeved arms on the desk.

Hemant gently smiled; he was used to encountering boorish customers and Alan wasn't any different, except that he was a hero.

"To facilitate its functionalism and provide efficiency in convenience, the vial is manufactured in the form of a simple, delicate and elegant necklace. It's unisex sir, you wouldn't have to worry about your looks."

"It's going to be invisible anyways."

"Ah, yes," Hemant replied in embarrassment. Since he had memorized a common script for all sorts of accessories and ornaments, he felt ashamed as he had made a fool of himself.

"So," Alan contemplated, "all we have to do is wear the necklace and we will be invisible, right?"

"Absolutely, sir! Note that you don't have any 'day's limit' for using the vial. The validity of the necklace is for exactly 30 days, after which the product vanishes automatically."

Alan contemplated the product details and let out a relieved smile.

This is it!

Hemant noticed his customer's silent approval and decided to impose the final hypnotic question that immediately allures a customer and deviates them from denial.

"Would you like to buy it, sir? To be frank, you would be its first user so I am pretty sure that I can offer you the best discount on this product. And remember sir, this offer will be exclusively for you."

Words like 'exclusive' and 'discount' always seemed to have a great impact on the client; something Hemant had picked up in his six months experience of working in the agency. And brain-washing a teenage boy like Alan should not be difficult that it may degrade his dignity.

Alan sat with his eyes fixated on the desk. His mind suffered through a whirlpool of thoughts and he patiently waited for the storm to settle.

This is my only way to protect her...

He cannot afford to make Pristine stay out of his home since safety and security cannot be promised to an alleged criminal. This was the only path to resort, so he slowly began piling the rigid blocks of confidence within him before pronouncing his decision.

Alan's eyes wandered from the desk and traveled towards the agent, who sat with his hands clasped firmer and earnest eyes probing for the dramatic revelation. If he said yes, then Hemant would ostensibly accomplish his greatest goal, owing to his mawkish flashback.

"Yes," Alan answered feebly as Hemant's glee crossed boundaries.

"Great decision, sir! Splendid choice!" Hemant fumbled with fancy words as his mien couldn't contain the excessive happiness that his body abruptly generated. He could finally put an end to Layla's and Karmen's incessant gloat.

Alan was not ready to witness his agent coaxing him with more sugary words and decided to move towards the most dreaded part of any business deal: payment.

"Can we discuss the payment?" Alan poked the clouds of reverie hovering the ecstatic service provider.

"Sure, sir!" Hemant returned, momentarily pausing the script he built in his mind on how he would flaunt his new victory to his colleagues.

"For these kinds of services that involve A-level magic solutions, Pandora's Pacting Magistrate offers a very unique and practical approach to payment."

Money is money. What is practical in that?

Alan swallowed his thoughts from spitting out. He had a good encounter with a particular person where he had attacked their sentiments and triggered their belligerence. And like his mom always said, mistakes are bound to happen only once; if it occurs twice, it is no more called a mistake.

"Since you have requested a product that requires arduous work of our brewers apart from the regular ones, the payment method will be different. Also, since you are its very first user, I am sure we can negotiate a proper discount," Hemant cheered.

Alan appeared to get the hang of Hemant's obscurely laced statement and grinned.

"I get it, you prefer on-spot cash over a card for this service, right?" Alan simpered, expecting appraisal for his mature thinking and witty response.

"Sir, we are not a hypermarket or a retail store," Hemant retorted bluntly, "we provide magic sir and when I mean method, it is not cash or card."

Though Alan was humiliated by his inanity, his eagerness made him ponder on what kind of payment the man was referring to.

"I do not understand anything, Mr. Ahuja," Alan appealed helplessly.

"Sure, sir! I'll make things clear!"

Hemant seemed to net words and phrases to make his client understand, while Alan stared at him impassively.

"Ah! Found the right phrase!" Hemant cried, "It's a simple give and take policy."

"So it's not money?"

"Yes, you are not required to pay money."

What is this man blabbering?

Confusion seethed and smouldered as wafts within his stiffened face. Beating around the bush was a common trait every trader had inherited, and it seemed that even Pandora was not free from this vain habit.

"Then what else?" he asked brusquely, paying no care to sentiments.

"Okay sir, since you are a superhero, what are your specialties?" Hemant responded differently, dodging a question that added more turmoil to the burning pot of stress.

How is this even related ?

"I can run fast..." Alan recollected his qualities and slowly began listing the basic features, forgetting his actual ability.

"What is the power you are most known for?" Hemant cut his introspection and leaned forward, his prying ears widening its listening spectrum and gluttonous eyes gazing at the client.

"You mean my manipulating power?" Alan smiled, sensing he had finally got it right.

"Yes!" Hemant hollered.

The duo passed each other's vibe check, and all of a sudden, cheered like old friends. Wide grins spread through their faces as both of them were simultaneously advancing towards the end of the deal.

"What is with that?" Alan asked, casually reducing his intensity of smile.

"That's your payment."