The sun was scorching, the streets nearly deserted as everyone hid indoors to escape the heat. It was early June, yet the summer blaze showed no signs of letting up.
Alex stood under a tree in the park, uncertain of what to do next. It had been hours since he left his aunt's house. After wandering aimlessly, he somehow ended up here.
His thoughts were a storm of worry—how would he survive? What would he eat? Where would he sleep? He needed a job, but who would hire an eighteen-year-old fresh out of high school?
It felt like nothing he did could improve his situation. If he had any money, he'd grab a snack at least. But he didn't. His aunt had monitored every penny he ever came across.
With a sigh, Alex crouched and unzipped his bag, hoping to find some lighter clothes. His school uniform was unbearable in the heat. As he rummaged, a crumpled $20 note fell out along with a small piece of paper.
Alex didn't need to think twice—he knew who had slipped it into his bag.
> "Get something to eat with the money. Couldn't help more—I didn't know your aunt would go this far. Go to the junkyard where I used to work. I talked to my old boss. You can sleep and work there. I'll try to find you a better place soon. —Uncle"
For the second time that day, tears rolled down Alex's cheeks. Of course his uncle would help in secret—he always did.
Murmuring a silent thank you, Alex zipped up his bag and stood. There was no use dwelling on how unfair life had been. With the spark of hope his uncle had given him, he'd try to change his fate—just a little.
First things first: food.
His stomach had been growling painfully all day. While $20 wasn't much, he didn't need a fancy meal. At the first McDonald's he spotted, he bought a chicken big Mac for $5.99, chicken mcnuggets at $2.99 and iced caramel macchiato at $3.39 totaling his spending at $12.37 with just $7.63 to spare . Ignoring the judgmental stares for his rough appearance, he accepted his food gratefully and left to find a quiet spot.
He returned to the park and settled again under the tree. It had been a long time since he'd had McDonald's, and he was genuinely looking forward to the meal. But just as he was about to take his first bite, a notification ding echoed in his ears.
Alex looked around—no one was nearby. He ignored it and began eating, but the sound repeated, louder and more persistent.
Clutching his head, he tried to block it out. The noise was driving him crazy.
"Stop!" he shouted, jerking his hands away from his ears. The sudden movement caused his burger and nuggets to tumble from his lap, scattering on the ground. The drink was not spared, spilling onto the grass.
"Shit," he whispered, staring at the soiled food.
> {Sorry, Host. I'll remember to reduce the notifications in the future.}
"I don't want any notifications, okay?!" Alex yelled, more at his misfortune than anything else. He stared at the ruined meal. He thought about picking it up, but the fear of getting sick outweighed his hunger. That would truly be the end of him.
Only then did it register—someone had spoken to him.
Alex scrambled to his feet, heart pounding as he scanned the area. No one was around. The notifications, the voice... none of it made sense. He took a cautious step toward the park entrance, ready to bolt if needed.
> {Host need not worry. I am neither human nor capable of manifesting physically.}
Alex froze. A woman's voice—soft and clear—was speaking directly into his mind.
> {You may lower your guard. I cannot harm you. I'm here to deliver your first allowance and explain the system. You can check your bank account for the exact amount. Would you like to hear the system rules now, or should I return at a more convenient time?}
The words made sense individually, but together? It was gibberish. System? Allowance? Alex couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"What are you?" he asked cautiously.
> {My identity is irrelevant. What matters is that your allowance is yours to use freely, no strings attached.}
> {Since Host appears mentally overwhelmed, I shall withdraw and return later.}
"Wait!" Alex called out. But the park fell silent again. Except for the rustling leaves, there was nothing.
"Just what the hell…"
Was he finally losing it? Hunger must be making him hallucinate. Still, that voice—it hadn't sounded like something conjured by a desperate mind.
He looked down at the scattered food again, frustration bubbling up, but what could he do? Time wouldn't rewind for him.
With a long breath, he picked up his bag. The junkyard. That was his next step. At least it was something.
Something to hold on to.