Volume 1

"Give me the conch from your hand, and we will trouble you no more," Said the
handsome young man, who had arrived at the bonfire with his followers, and was
now idly fiddling with the blade in his hand. This was their thirtieth night in
the desolate land of exile, which the boys and girls secretly called the
"Outlands." The blade that once felled trees, cut grass, pried open fruits, and
silenced a great many not of their group was no longer as sharp as it used to
be, and the adults who sought to control them by force had died before ever
drawing their own blades from their sheaths. Now, no one even knew where its
scabbard had been thrown. "Are you sure you want this conch?" The boy holding
the conch was the most diminutive of them all, and hence, they called him
"Shorty." "Yes, I do." "Why?" "Do you really need to ask why?" the handsome
young man said with a smile. "Didn't 'we' all agree on a rule, Shorty? That
whoever is holding the conch has the right to speak?"

Yes, this was the secret pact made by the children around the bonfire, to resist
the adults who had made slaves of them. To survive this desolate land and break
free of their grim status as exiles, the children made a pact. A leader would be
chosen from their midst — a child like them, clever and capable of guiding them
through hardship. One who would stand with them, yet not fear strength. This was
the person who would hold the conch and become the leader of all the boys and
girls. Secreted from the beach during the day's labor right under the adults'
noses, proof that they were not infallible. As childhood fades, so does the
belief that elders are all-knowing superhumans. For most, this perhaps leads to
some disillusionment. But for these youths, it might not have been the worst
thing to learn. And then... The ideal order did not arrive. Or rather, the
bestial cruelty in the hearts of these children, yet unquenched, was becoming
more rampant without anyone to suppress it. For if violence was capable of
overthrowing everything, why should those who could wield it not seize
everything through it? This included the conch, and everything it represented in
the children's secret pact.

"So you think you can hold the conch?" "I was the one who put in the most
effort, and I also got the most in return. What's more, I'm the one holding the
blade now." "Then you will become the one who commands us all." "Yes, of course
I will become the one who commands you all." "Just like those adults at the
beginning...?" "Well, that might not sound so bad after all." Well, if that's
the case... As if to answer, the short boy rose from the bonfire, his back to
the flames, his face hidden in shadow... But the handsome young man thought he
caught a smirk on the other boy’s face, and a strange unease about the future
washed over him. Until that night, he had believed all to be in his grip, like
the knife, steady in his hand. Shorty handed him the conch, and turned to walk
into the forest. After that night, the boy who once held the conch seemed to
have vanished into thin air.

Volume 2

"You knew that things would end up like this..." The girl wearing glasses
eventually found the short boy. As he returned, the other children parted to
make way for him, their eyes filled with worry. At the path's end, a handsome
young man lay slumped in a chair piled on with heavy objects, his features
sharpened by the pallid green tone of his skin. His deep crimson-purple lips
were stark against the bonfire’s eerie flames, which flickered like a strange
veil in the wind. The young man bore no visible wounds, and yet his hands hung
dully, long stiffened as if cast in plaster. The blade that he once wielded with
so much pride had fallen right there. Not a single person picked it up. "Things
always end up like this. I just didn't think it'd happen so soon." The boy
picked up the blade. Though still hard, it bore the scars of years of
wood-chopping with its nicked edges and dented surface. The young man didn't
know how to tend to this power, but as it was his only lifeline, he kept the
blade's need for tending a secret. Naturally, he grew to distrust all and
sundry. His sleep became short and restless, and he was quick to anger. The fear
of revealing flaws like the adults did caused him to reveal still more flaws...
Things could thus only end in one way. In truth... the only thing the
protagonists in most stories need is more patience.

"When did you start seeing this?" "Since he demanded the conch from me, I
guess." "Back when he wanted the conch?" "Just what is the conch? It's nothing.
A toy we found on the beach, really. He would've tossed it sooner or later,
either that or maybe that broken blade. To carry both would only have slowed him
down."

A pair of hands, holding a conch, emerged from between the boy and the girl. The
owner of the hands stepped forward and placed the conch in the boy's hands. The
boy looked down and saw red marks on the palms beneath the shell, left there by
the coarse rope. "So what will you do?" the girl with glasses asked him. He
raised the conch to his lips and tried to blow it just like he'd seen in the
picture books. But instead of a clear call, only a soft, comical puff of air
could be heard. Then he brought it to his ear and listened, and from the conch
came the sound of waves. "We shall build a town here and make it an Elysium for
boys and girls. No one person shall monopolize the conch from now on, for it
belongs to all of us. Anyone can hold it and speak their mind." "But all of us
will grow up one day. And we'll become the adults we don't want to be." "Don't
worry, it's okay. There's always a tomorrow, and there will always be other
children. If they don't like who we become, they can shatter our world with
their own hands." A short, unassuming boy. And a rather smart one. He hurled the
dented blade into the waves, And placed the conch amidst the children.