Chapter 06

Chapter 06

The Cost of Seeing

Tunde Adebayo began to bleed from the nose at 3:41 a.m.

It started as a warm trickle, sudden and sharp, dripping onto the open pages of his notebook. He wiped it away absently, eyes fixed on the cube hovering between his palms—not floating, not moving, yet refusing to be put down.

He had been watching the city through it.

Not with his eyes, but with possibility.

Every street was a branching path. Every human choice a fragile thread. Lagos glowed with millions of futures, overlapping and colliding like traffic at Ojota. And somewhere within that chaos were dark nodes—points where destiny was being forced instead of nudged.

Tunde gasped and dropped the cube.

It hit the desk with a dull thud. The visions vanished.

He collapsed into his chair, shaking.

Rule Four: The cube charges a price for awareness.

By morning, Inspector Kunle Ogunleye noticed something was wrong.

“You look like you’ve aged ten years overnight,” he said.

Tunde forced a smile. “Side effects.”

Kunle didn’t laugh. “This ends one of two ways, Tunde. Either you help us stop this… or this thing kills you.”

Tunde nodded. He already knew.

“I can see where the deaths will happen,” he said quietly.

Kunle froze. “Before they happen?”

“Not exactly. I see where they can happen. Where someone is pushing too hard.”

Kunle leaned in. “Then show me.”

They set up a quiet observation room inside Ikeja Command. No cameras. No records. Just maps of Lagos pinned to the wall.

Tunde stood before them, cube in hand.

Red pins marked past deaths—those linked to the ludo board. Blue pins marked cube-related distortions.

Slowly, trembling, Tunde placed a black pin.

“Here,” he said.

Kunle checked the location. “A motor park in Oshodi.”

“Within the hour,” Tunde added.

Kunle didn’t question it. He called in units immediately.

Dr. Morayo Kalejaiye frowned as she studied her board.

She pushed a token forward.

Nothing happened.

She tried again.

The board resisted—wood creaking softly.

Morayo’s eyes narrowed.

“So,” she murmured, “someone is interfering.”

At the Oshodi motor park, chaos erupted when armed officers flooded the area. Drivers shouted. Passengers scattered.

And no one died.

Miles away, Morayo stepped back from the board, stunned.

“That’s impossible.”

Sadiq Bello felt it too.

His cube stuttered mid-turn, flashing erratically.

“Hey,” he snapped. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

The cube went dark for a second—then burned brighter.

Sadiq laughed nervously.

“Oh,” he said. “You’re learning tricks now.”

Tunde collapsed the moment the call came in confirming zero casualties.

Kunle caught him before he hit the floor.

“Worth it?” Kunle asked.

Tunde managed a weak nod. “Ask me tomorrow.”

Later that night, Tunde lay awake, staring at the ceiling.

He understood something now—something the ancient king must have learned too late.

The more clearly you saw destiny…

…the less room there was for you inside it.

Outside, Lagos roared on, unaware that its survival now depended on a tired young man with glasses, a cube that remembered ancient worlds, and enemies who were finally beginning to feel afraid.