Chapter Text
When you’re poor and need money, you’ve gotta be willing to do some weird jobs to make ends meet.
Apollo Justice was no stranger to odd jobs. Scribing, milking, serving tea, delivering papers, logdriving… anything was on the table, really. If a job needed to be done, Apollo would do it. Rent was pricey, after all, and law school was even pricier.
But treasure hunting was definitely not in his usual job description.
The damp air of the desert cavern caused Apollo’s shoulders to bristle in anticipation. He wasn’t keen on being coated in water dripping from the cave ceiling. His fingers tightened around his flashlight—this particular cave stretched much deeper than Apollo had anticipated, and after two whole hours of walking, he was beginning to wonder if the pay for this job was even worth it.
Apparently, Apollo’s newest employer was desperate for some ancient artifact hidden in this place—and they paid a pretty penny for its safe delivery. What was the artifact, exactly? And why was it in a cave in the middle of the Mojave Desert? Apollo didn’t know, nor did he care. People paid outrageous prices for the weirdest things. This treasure, whatever it was, wouldn’t be any different.
Apollo stopped at what appeared to be a dead-end. The cavern path abruptly ended, and Apollo was left staring at a jagged, moss-covered wall with no obvious way forward. The maw of his flashlight searched for anything unusual, but it found nothing.
Maybe this was for the best, Apollo thought. If he ventured any farther, he risked getting himself lost. His life wasn’t worth more than a good payday—even if returning empty-handed meant he’d have to skip a few meals. Apollo wasn’t willing to stake his life on some stupid treasure.
Apollo leaned against the nearby wall, grasping the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was hoping the dampness of the moss against his back would cool his body temperature and ease the flow of sweat.
What he didn’t expect was for the mossy wall to give way.
Apollo let out a strangled cry of surprise as he fell backwards. He backpedalled to catch himself, stumbling into a new room that was hidden by the mossy curtain. Unsuccessful in staying upright, Apollo careened onto his back and groaned in pain as his spine collided with the jagged stone floor. His flashlight clattered onto the ground, cracking but not breaking. The light flickered only slightly.
Once Apollo had fought through the bruises, brushed his clothes free of dirt, and found a foothold, he finally looked around. The cavern room was small, almost claustrophobic, and was roughly spherical in shape. Given the length of vines curling up the walls, this room had remained undisturbed for many, many years.
In fact, the only thing present in the room was a small pedestal, carved into the shape of a tiger’s snout.
Atop the pedestal was a dusty oil lamp.
Apollo blinked a few times, staring at the lamp incredulously. This couldn’t possibly be the treasure he’d been sent to find, was it? He plucked his flashlight off the ground and took the lamp off the stand. He investigated all sides of it and stumbled upon an engraving near the lamp spout. But with all the dust and grime covering the lamp, Apollo couldn’t make out the words.
How long had this dingy thing been in this cave for? Who put it here? And why? Apollo rubbed the lamp with his sleeve to clear the dirt, curious about the words engraved on it.
And then, with no warning, Apollo was blinded by an onslaught of dense white smoke pouring from the spout.
He sputtered in surprise, dropping the lamp as it continued to bellow smoke. It penetrated his eyes, causing them to water, and he blinked rapidly to ease the pain. Through his coughing, wheezing, and burning eyes, Apollo heard a voice speak up through the fray, cutting through the smoky veil like a knife.
“Oh? What’s this?”
Apollo opened his mouth to ask who was there, but his chin was snagged by a rough hand, jerking his neck upwards. He nearly dropped his flashlight in shock.
And then Apollo saw it—the silhouette of a man’s face, blurred by the smoke, sans his glowing blue eyes. (Glowing? Was that a trick of the light?)
The blue eyes narrowed. “A human being. What a surprise.”
Apollo’s knees nearly buckled and gave way. Once the smoke cleared a bit more, Apollo could make out the features of the strange man’s face. His blond locks were tucked into a tidy braid, and his lips were pursed with faint amusement. On the bridge of his nose sat a pair of thin spectacles, reflecting the glow of Apollo’s flashlight.
The man was silent. He took a moment to study Apollo’s face before speaking up again. “Tell me, young man… What year is it, exactly? Has the Pharaoh finally kicked the bucket?”
His question was so strange that Apollo had to think before answering. He barely managed to squeak out the correct reply. “It’s… It’s 2026.”
The strange man paused, seemingly surprised by the answer. “Truly? That long?” Apollo nodded nervously. “…How unfortunate. I was hoping to see the completion of the Great Pyramids.”
“H–Hang on,” Apollo stammered, finally finding his voice. He pushed the intruding hand away, freeing his cheeks from the unwelcome grasp of this mysterious stranger. He pointed the flashlight at the man. “Who are you? What the hell are you talking about? Where did you even come from?!”
“Ah, yes… I suppose introductions are in order.” The man stepped backwards, and suddenly, the smoke cloud snaked towards the ground. It settled on the floor for a moment before dissipating almost entirely. “I am Kristoph the Magnificent, Bringer of Good Fortunes… and you are my new master, courtesy of you rubbing my lamp.”
“…Your master?”
“Yes, my master. You found my lamp. You woke me up. Don’t you know how this works?” Kristoph acted like the implications should be obvious. But when he realized that Apollo didn’t quite understand, Kristoph pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “Hm. Apparently not.”
Apollo glanced down at the lamp in question, lying upside-down on the ground. He knelt down and plucked it up, rubbing the engraved spout absently. “I–I think you’ve got the wrong guy, Mr. Good Fortunes. I’m just looking for some treasure.” Kristoph managed to force a half-smile in reply, and Apollo’s spine tingled with trepidation. “Th–that’s a pretty good magic trick with the smoke, though,” Apollo admitted, avoiding Kristoph’s gaze. “I know a girl who’d love to see that—”
“You misunderstand.” Kristoph interrupted him, folding his arms and straightening his back. His forced smile barely wavered. “I am no mere magician. I can do much more than create smoke.”
“R–Right,” Apollo sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess you did appear out of nowhere. That was pretty cool, too. Creepy, though.”
Kristoph tilted his head and hummed. “What’s your name, young man?”
“…Apollo Justice.”
“Mr. Justice,” Kristoph began, gliding towards Apollo and placing a manicured hand over his shoulder. “Let me ask you a question. If you could ask for anything in the world, what would you ask for? Fame? Power?”
“Uh, a full fridge, maybe,” Apollo half-joked.
“…What’s a fridge?” Kristoph looked puzzled for a moment before rolling his eyes and moving on. “Whatever. The point is… I have the power to grant your deepest desires. I can make your wishes come true.” The fingers clamped tighter on Apollo’s shoulder, and Apollo tried his best not to flinch. “That is what a genie does, no?”
A genie? That couldn’t be right. Apollo swallowed hard, avoiding the icy blue stare that bored into him. He rubbed his bracelet, unsure why it hadn’t tightened yet. Shouldn’t there be some sort of tell, a hint of tension, from being so obviously deceitful?
Genies aren’t real, right?
“Um, I just came to get the lamp,” Apollo said carefully. “Some guy paid me good money to find it—”
Kristoph suddenly laughed, his voice trilling like a songbird. “You can have the lamp, Justice. After today, I won’t have any use for it.” He bent his knees, leveling his face with Apollo’s. His voice was low and breathy. “But wouldn’t you like something more than just one measly payday?”
“…Like what?”
“Whatever you want, Justice. Your own personal army. A palace made of gold. Wines, perfumes, livestock.” Kristoph waved his hand dismissively. “Immortality. The king’s throne. The whole world, given to you on a silver platter. Take your pick.”
“You’re saying…” Apollo hesitated a bit, brushing Kristoph’s intruding hand off his shoulder. “You’re saying you can give me that stuff?”
Kristoph’s eyes glinted. “You get one wish, Justice. Anything you want.”
Apollo bit his lip. He seriously doubted the legitimacy of Kristoph’s claims, yet the idea of having anything in the world was undeniably tantalizing. Images of fancy cars and plushy penthouse apartments flashed in his mind. The possibility of luxury and riches beyond anything he’d ever known was enough to give Apollo pause.
Not to mention, his bracelet hadn’t tightened once.
Hm.
…Well, even if Kristoph was a fraud, there was no harm in giving it a shot.
“…If I could have anything in the world, I’d want food.” Kristoph tilted his head curiously, and Apollo clarified what he meant. “I hate working at these stupid jobs. I'm always worrying about having enough food for dinner.”
“…You’re wishing for food?” Kristoph sounded rather incredulous. “Wouldn’t you rather have unrivalled riches? Stacks of silver and spice?”
“Not really.” Apollo scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t even know what I would spend that kind of money on. And I don’t like spices much.”
“…Interesting.” Kristoph paused, ruminating on Apollo’s words. “Mr. Justice, you are by far the strangest man I’ve ever met.”
“…Thanks?”
“Very well, then.” Kristoph rolled his shoulders back and cracked his knuckles. The air in the room suddenly felt rather heavy. “You wish to be rid of food insecurity? That should be easy. Stand back for a minute, won’t you?”
Apollo took two steps backwards, pressing his back against the damp stone wall, and watched in awe as Kristoph twirled his fingers in circles.
“Creating gold coins would be simple enough,” Kristoph muttered, pacing the room as sparks began to sprout from his fingertips. They lit the entire room in a flickering yellow light, rendering Apollo’s flashlight moot and useless. “But it would be difficult to transport. And large quantities of food spoil very easily, so I can’t just conjure that…”
Apollo flinched as the sparks grew in intensity. One of them flew right towards Apollo, landing near his bracelet. He hissed in pain—and that’s when he realized the sparks burned.
After pacing for a moment more, Kristoph’s eyes lit up. “…Ah, I’ve got it.”
Then he pointed at Apollo, and everything went white.
Apollo gasped as his vision was once again enveloped by white smoke. A barrage of sparks cut through the thick white veil, pelting him in the face and chest, and he screamed. The pain was sudden and overwhelming. Apollo collapsed to the floor, shielding his face with his eyes.
Eventually, though, the onslaught of sparks came to a slow, and then stopped entirely. Apollo dared to peek between his fingers. His flashlight must’ve burnt out, Apollo thought, because the cavern was now pitch-black. He couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.
Did it work? Was Apollo’s bank account full enough to pay rent this week? Was his kitchen pantry stacked with name-brand ramen and soup cans? He could certainly hope, couldn’t he?
Apollo quickly sat up straight, which proved to be a mistake—his head collided with a hard, metal surface, causing a bout of pain to jolt through his skull. Wait, metal? But the cavern is made out of stone. He reached up, feeling for the cavern roof, but his hands met the cold, smooth touch of metal. He felt beneath him, and was surprised to find the floor was slick and oily.
Wherever Apollo was, he guessed, he was no longer in the cave.
Apollo sat in the darkness, puzzled and confused, before he remembered that someone else was in the cave with him. He called out for Kristoph, voice wavering slightly, but was answered only by the echo of his own voice. Did Kristoph leave? Maybe the wish was granted, and he saw no reason to stay. Or maybe he was a fraud all along.
One thing was for sure, though—something was very, very wrong.
After a beat or two of silence, the ground began to shake. Apollo hugged his knees and lowered his head, preparing for what he thought was an earthquake. One shake, then two, then three. But then the shaking stopped, and Apollo was alone in the quiet darkness once more.
“…Rather cramped in there, isn’t it, Justice?”
Apollo flinched at the sudden sound of Kristoph’s voice. It came from somewhere overhead, and worse yet, it was loud. “Mr. Kristoph?” he called.
“Don’t worry,” Kristoph said from above. “I’ll get you out of there. One moment.”
Apollo’s body sagged with relief. A newfound sliver of light overhead gave way to a full-blown opening leading back into the cavern. Apollo moved to stand up and crawl out of whatever metal-encased area he’d been trapped in, only to stifle a gasp when a sudden bout of g-force pinned his entire body to the floor.
The world above became blurry with motion, and when it finally came to a stop, Apollo found himself face-to-face with a giant blue eyeball.
Apollo yelped and scrambled back, slamming his head on the metal again.
“Oh, do calm down, Justice,” the booming voice sighed. The metal encasing shifted again, and the faint light overhead was suddenly blotted by a massive pair of fingers, longer and thicker than tree trunks. Before Apollo could even think to reach, a thumb and forefinger snagged his entire torso and lifted him further into the sky. Apollo sputtered and stammered, clutching the thumbnail pressed against his chest, desperate for something to hold onto. “See? You’re perfectly fine. No need to overreact.”
“You’re a—” Apollo choked on his own breath, gobsmacked by the massive face of Kristoph. It was wide enough to swallow his entire peripheral, and Kristoph’s breaths were like gusts of wind, ruffling Apollo’s meticulously-styled hair. For what felt like an eternity, Apollo was rendered silent, a trembling mess of nerves, faced with the overwhelming presence of Kristoph’s face.
“…I’m a what? Speak up, Justice. I can barely hear you.”
“A g–giant,” Apollo squeaked pathetically. “You’re a giant.”
The hand suspending Apollo in midair bounced around as Kristoph laughed again. Apollo flinched and ducked his head, fearing the near-astronomical drop to the ground far below. “Not quite,” Kristoph replied jovially. “Look around, why don’t you?”
And so Apollo looked around. He stared up at the cavern roof, dozens of feet farther up than it had been moments prior. Hesitantly, he looked down, his nerves tingling with terror—the floor was so far away now. If Kristoph dropped him, he would surely die from the fall.
As he was looking down, Apollo also spotted the lamp in Kristoph’s grip below, only the lamp was now massive—Apollo figured he could probably fit in there if he wanted to.
And then he saw it. There, on Kristoph’s wrist, sat Apollo’s beloved bracelet. Only now, it was about ten times bigger than it was supposed to be.
…Oh.
Apollo felt his throat go bone-dry as he finally put the pieces together in his mind. He rubbed the spot on his wrist where his bracelet normally sat, only to find himself stroking bare skin.
No, it couldn’t be true.
This was a dream. It had to be.
He finally spoke, the words weighing heavily on his tongue.
“…You shrunk me.”
“Well done, Justice.” Kristoph nodded down at Apollo in mock approval. “Excellent deduction work.”
“You shrunk me,” Apollo said again, nervous laughter bubbling up from his lungs. “You… You shrunk me!! WHAT THE HELL?!”
Kristoph flinched at Apollo’s hollering, raising his free hand to plug his ear. “Quiet down—”
“Turn me back! Make me big again!” Apollo dared to pound on Kristoph’s thumb as hard as he could, demanding to be reverted to his normal size. “This is bullshit! Turn me back right now!”
Kristoph, meanwhile, scowled at Apollo’s constant shouting. “I granted your wish, Justice. No need to be so ungrateful.”
“B–but I wished—”
“To be rid of food insecurity. That’s exactly what I did.” Apollo was rendered silent, lost for a response, and so Kristoph continued. “The food currently in your home should be enough to last you an entire year. And the money you’ll get selling my lamp should be sufficient to support you for the rest of your life.”
“You tricked me!” Apollo hissed. “I never wished to be this small!” He felt so stupid—how could he have let himself be fooled like this? Of course he wasn’t going to get what he wished for! All he got for his trouble was a newfound terror of heights. Apollo’s fists trembled, his anger masking the rapid onset of horror wracking his nerves. “You… Y–You…”
Kristoph smiled gently, but the glint in his eyes was unmistakably sinister. “Is that ingratitude I hear in your tone? Are you not happy with your wish?”
Apollo’s anger died in his throat. Kristoph’s face loomed over him like a cat watching its prey, and Apollo gulped audibly, hunching in on himself. He was suddenly very aware of just how helpless he was right now—shrunken down to a minuscule size, trapped in the tight grip of the man who shrunk him.
“Like it or not, this is what you asked for. Frankly, you should be thanking me. I’m even letting you keep my lamp for good measure.”
“B–But how am I supposed to get home like this?!”
Kristoph let out a hum and shrugged. “I’m not sure. Perhaps you should’ve wished for someone to carry you home, too.” He lifted the lamp up, flipping the lid open, and deposited Apollo back inside. He landed roughly on his backside, reeling on the smooth metal floor. “Don’t worry, Justice. I’m sure somebody will come searching for the lamp in the next three years or so.”
“Wait,” Apollo gasped, scrambling to stand up and crawl out of the lamp. However, the bottom of the lamp was slick with old oil, and Apollo just slipped and fell down again. “Wait, p–please. I’m sorry for yelling at you. D–Don’t leave me here.”
Kristoph responded by tutting and snapping the lid shut.
“Please!” Apollo screamed, desperately clawing at the roof, searching for a way to pry it open again. But it was no use—the lid was perfectly sealed, leaving Apollo cloaked in total darkness. There was no chance of opening it from the inside.
“I’ll leave your bracelet here for you.” Something clattered outside the lamp—his bracelet, no doubt—and then Kristoph’s footsteps began to fade into the distance. “Just in case you manage to get out of there. Take care, Justice… and thank you for freeing me.”
“No!” Apollo’s breathing began to quicken. He pounded on every wall, his mind spiraling into panicked hysteria. The echoed sound of fists on metal was loud enough to make Apollo’s head pulse in pain, but he kept shouting and screaming regardless. “No! Wait! I’m sorry! P–Please don’t leave me!”
But it was far too late. The footsteps had receded into the distance, and Apollo was alone once more. Apollo’s screams eventually faded into sobs. He curled into a ball, hugging his knees close to his chest, and cried himself to sleep.
That was when Apollo decided that he really, really hated genies.