Café Thara was warm and dim, the scent of cinnamon and espresso thick in the air. It used to be their place. A quiet spot where time slowed down, where conversations drifted into soft smiles and brushed fingertips.
But not today.
Noah sat across from Sarah, his fingers curled around a cup of coffee he hadn't touched. It had gone cold, just like her eyes.
She looked calm. Not angry, not sad—just... resigned.
His phone buzzed on the table.
[Email from: OrionTech HR Department]
Subject: Final Interview Results
He didn't want to open it. He already knew. But he tapped the screen anyway.
"We regret to inform you that your application was not successful…"
The words swam in his vision. His mouth felt dry.
He looked up at her.
Sarah had already guessed. "You didn't get it, right?"
Noah shook his head.
She let out a breath. Not cruel—just tired. Tired of waiting for him to change.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a sleek, gold-trimmed envelope. She slid it across the table.
He looked at it, confused. "What's this?"
"I'm getting engaged," she said quietly.
He blinked. "To who?"
"To Johan."
The name hit like a punch. Johan. Her parents had mentioned him once or twice—wealthy, successful, the son of her father's business partner. Noah had never taken it seriously.
"I thought you hated him," he said, voice cracking.
Sarah's smile was paper-thin. "It's what my family wants."
"You don't even love him."
"That's not the point anymore." She took a sip of her cappuccino, then looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not inviting you. So please… don't come."
Noah's heart dropped into his stomach. "Sarah, wait—please. We can talk about this."
"There's nothing to talk about," she said softly. "You're a good person, Noah. But you've been stuck in the same place for years. Hoping things will change without doing anything."
"That's not fair—"
"I waited," she interrupted. "For a future with you. But the truth is, you're always waiting. For the right job. The right moment. The right reason to fight."
She stood. Smoothed her coat. Looked down at him like someone leaving a shelter they'd outgrown.
"I hope you find someone better than me, Noah. I really do."
And then she walked out of Café Thara and out of his life.
Noah stood up. "Sarah—!"
Heads turned. She didn't. The door shut behind her, soft but final.
He didn't sit back down. He stood there, alone, the gold-trimmed envelope still lying on the table like a leftover from someone else's life.
——
Hours passed.
He wandered the streets without direction. Rain started to fall—first gentle, then steadily heavier, soaking through his hoodie, sticking his clothes to his skin. He didn't care.
He passed closed shops, laughing couples under umbrellas, neon signs blinking over liquor stores and late-night ramen joints. He walked until his legs hurt.
When he finally reached his apartment, everything felt too still. Too quiet.
He dropped his keys on the table. Pulled off his shoes. The air smelled faintly of her perfume—it always lingered longer than she did.
On his shelf, a photo of him and Sarah stared back. Taken at the summer carnival two years ago. She had kissed his cheek right as the shutter clicked. He remembered how her laughter had felt against his skin.
Noah walked over. Picked it up.
And threw it against the wall.
The crash echoed. Shards of glass scattered across the floor like stars falling.
He sank to his knees.
The weight of everything—losing the job, losing her, being left behind—crushed the breath out of him. His hands shook. His chest heaved.
But no screams came.
Just quiet, aching sobs as he knelt among broken pieces of what used to be his future.
And in that hollow dark, he whispered the question that burned deeper than any other.
"Why wasn't I enough?"
——
Noah didn't remember falling asleep.
He woke up on the floor, stiff and freezing. The sky outside had turned the dull blue of early morning, and the sounds of the city beginning to stir filtered through the windows—garbage trucks, distant honks, the scrape of rain against glass.
His phone buzzed near the couch.
He let it buzz.
Eventually, he dragged himself to his feet. His body felt like it had been weighed down with concrete. There was still glass on the floor, scattered around the broken photo of him and Sarah. He didn't bother cleaning it up.
He didn't bother with anything.
After a long, silent shower, he tossed on a hoodie and jeans, then checked his bank app out of habit. The screen loaded slowly.
Balance: $4.27
He stared at the number.
Then he laughed. Just once. Dry and bitter.
"Perfect."
He left the apartment without a plan.
There was nothing to do, no one to see. He had applied to more than fifty companies over the past two months. Only two had called back. OrionTech was the last hope. And now even that was gone.
His steps carried him downtown, past chain stores and bakeries opening up for the morning rush. The city moved around him like he wasn't even there.
He stopped at a crosswalk.
A nearby LED screen flickered on the side of a bus shelter.
"Feeling hopeless?" it said in bold text. "Change your future. Change your luck."
A QR code shimmered below it, static dancing along the edges.
Noah stared at it for a moment.
Then the screen glitched—just for a second. The bold text blinked out and was replaced with something else.
"Spending is believing."
The bus passed by, and the ad vanished with it.
Noah rubbed his eyes. "What the hell…"
But something was in his pocket.
He hadn't bought anything. Hadn't picked anything up. But he felt it—cold, metallic. Slipping his hand in, he pulled out…
A card.
Black. Matte. Heavy. With silver trim and no branding.
Only one thing was written on the front in a soft white glow:
___
[CREDIT LIMIT: UNLIMITED]
*Terms and Conditions Apply.
___
He flipped it over.
The back had no magnetic strip. No chip. Just four words etched into the surface in tiny, perfect lettering:
He blinked. "What?"
A soft vibration traveled up his fingers.
His phone buzzed again.
[System Activation Complete]
Welcome, Noah Everett.
You've been chosen. Spend wisely.
Then the screen went dark.
He tried to use the card at a corner coffee shop.
"I don't recognize the bank," the barista said. "But it… went through."
Noah stared at the receipt. Zero balance deducted. Zero charge. Just one word printed at the bottom:
< Gifted.>
The older woman in line behind him—mid-40s, sharp blazer, bags under her eyes—smiled faintly at the aroma of the pastry he'd accidentally ordered with the coffee.
Noah blinked. "Would you like this?"
She looked surprised. "Oh—no, I couldn't."
"Please," he said, voice more tired than generous. "I didn't mean to buy it anyway."
She took it with a small, grateful nod. "Thank you… that's very kind of you."
She walked out.
And then—
[1 Point Earned]
Category: Generosity > Mature Woman
Balance: 1 TP (Temptation Points)
New Option Unlocked: View Stat Panel
Noah froze.
On instinct, he whispered: "…view panel?"
A translucent window flickered in front of him. No one else reacted.
___
[NOAH EVERETT — SYSTEM INTERFACE]
Spending Potential: Unlimited (Target-specific only)
Point Balance (TP): 1
— STATS —
✦ Luck: 2
✦ Confidence: 1
✦ Charisma: 1
✦ Financial Sense: 0
Spend more. Give more. Unlock more.
___
He staggered back, nearly dropping his coffee.
This wasn't just a glitch. Or a prank.
Something had changed.
And for the first time in days, a new emotion sparked somewhere beneath the exhaustion.
Curiosity.