My phone started blaring.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
"...Shit, I'm late."
I scrambled upright and instinctively reached for my phone.
"...Hold on."
The contract, if it was real then aren't I filthy rich now?, I quickly opened my banking app.
The loading circle spun for a second before my balance appeared.
$10,000,010.36
"Holy shit, is this legal?"
[Probably.]
"What do you mean 'probably'?"
The rectangle offered no further explanation.
"You know what? I don't even want to know."
I locked the phone before immediately unlocking it again.
I stared at the screen.
Once, twice.
Then locked my phone, unlocked it again.
The number hadn't changed, the money was still there.
"I'm rich.... No I'm filthy rich"
I'd always considered myself fairly well off.
Not rich.
Comfortable.
There was a difference, My weekly paycheck was already higher than what many people earned in like three weeks.
I worked like a lunatic, Convenience store clerk, waiter, bartender, food delivery, warehouse loader, tutor, dog walker, event staff, freelance mover.
If someone was paying, chances were I'd done the job.
The funny part?, none of those jobs were what made my income ridiculous.
It was the tips.
For reasons beyond my understanding, people kept throwing money at me.
One old lady tipped me fifty dollars just because I helped carry her groceries.
A businessman handed me twenty and said,
"A face like yours shouldn't be working this hard."
I graciousfully accepted the money, I'm not a dumbass, but still that man he..... He was weird.
Another customer tried recruiting me into modeling.
Someone else insisted I become an actor.
One bartender even asked if I was secretly an idol.
I wasn't, i was just... Built different, no, seriously.
i'm gorgeous.
I don't know what to tell you.
I glanced back at the number on my phone.
$10,000,010.36
"I'm calling in sick."
[You're self-employed today.]
"Right, Damn." I scratched my head.
[Article V - Forbidden Self-Termination]
"Guess I can't fire myself either."
I looked back at the impossible number on my screen.
$10,000,010.36
"...Okay."
Out of pure curiosity, I decided to figure out how long it'd normally take me to earn that much.
"Let's see, I make about two-fifty to three hundred a week, let's just say I earn about 300 don't overcomplicate it"
[...]
"So...? What was that."
[What was what?.]
"Why did you type three dots?."
[Nothing.]
"... Then watch and learn."
I held up my fingers.
"Three hundred times ten, three thousand, times a hundred, three hundred thousand."
So...
"One million is... three thousand three hundred... weeks?"
I frowned.
"No, wait."
I started over.
"Three hundred a week, Fifty-two weeks, that's, fifteen, No, sixteen..."
"Dammit."
I took a deep breath.
"Okay, three hundred dollars a week, ten million, divide..."
"Carry the one, Who the hell am I carrying it to?"
[Certainly not your mathematics teacher.]
"I dropped school to take care of my mother, no shit, screw it."
I opened the calculator, a few taps later, the answer appeared.
33,333 weeks.
"Divide by fifty-two..."
More tapping.
About 641 years.
"So if I started working during the Roman Empire..."
"I'd be getting paid today."
[Assuming inflation doesn't exist.]
Dammit, well that's beside the point, this means, Clary can go to the university she wanted, I won't have to worry about grandma medicine again.....
I stared at the number one last time.
$10,000,010.36
For a while, i simply looked at it.
A small laugh escaped him.
"Mom would've liked this."
...
"If I ever become rich..."
My mother's voice drifted back to me, soft and amused.
"don't waste it on anything stupid."
A much younger Clary puffed out her chest.
"I'll buy a mansion."
"You'll get lost."
"A sports car."
"You can't even ride a bicycle."
"...A private island."
She laughed.
"And who's going to clean it?"
"I'll hire people."
"Oh?"
She smiled as she stirred the pot on the stove.
"So you're already planning to become the kind of rich person everyone complains about."
"I'll pay them well."
"Then I suppose I can forgive you."
The memory faded as quietly as it had come.
I looked down at the balance on his phone again.
$10,000,010.36.
"..."
"How much should I send Clary?"
My thumb hovered over the transfer button.
A million?
Absolutely not.
She'd have a heart attack.
Five hundred thousand?
Even worse.
She'd probably march over to his house, smack me upside the head, and demand to know which criminal organization owed me money.
"...Yeah, she'd kill me, actually she'd definitely yell first, saying stuff liked you promised." I wouldn't want that.
My mind starting drifting, should I go visit...
Would that be fine?, does she still hate me for what i did?.
Interrupting my thought, the floating rectangle pop out right in front of my face.
[You should.]
"Wha-" I actually stumbled to my back this time. "Dude."
[Honestly man, I don't like seeing people doing things that they would later regret it's frustrating, it's like a romance unnecessary misunderstanding arc, so go on.]
"Are you.. are you actually giving advice right now?.."
[Yep.]
I let out a chuckle
"Your right, I should..."
My smile slowly disappeared.
"I still have a job."
I couldn't exactly vanish for three hours every day without eventually getting fired.
Well, actually, getting fired solved the problem.
"...No."
The old man had given me work when nobody else would.
Cassius sighed.
"I should at least quit properly."
He imagined the conversation.
"Boss."
"Yeah?"
"I'm resigning because I accepted a contract from a suspicious cosmic entity, became a ghost, possessed the corpse of a noble teenager in another world, and now I have to attend a fantasy academy while occasionally coming back to Earth."
"...Yeah, he's going to think I finally snapped." I tapped my chin.
My eyes drifted back toward the banking app.
$10,000,010.36
"Technically." A small grin crept onto his face. "I mean, It is a better-paying job."
standing up and stretched my body, I grabbed my jacket.
"Well, time to quit before, 'That time I accidently become the world's first part-time convenience store clerk and part-time world savior'."
.....
The manager leaned against the counter.
"So."
"So?"
"You win the lottery?"
"...Something like that."
"You finally got a girlfriend?"
"No."
"You rob a bank?"
"...No."
"...Crypto?"
"...Definitely not."
The old man sighed dramatically.
"Then what happened?"
Cassius opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
"I got a better job."
"Oh?"
"Pay's incredible."
"Benefits?"
"Healthcare's questionable."
"Vacation?"
"Not really."
"Hazard pay?"
"Constant."
The manager whistled.
"Sounds terrible."
"It really is."
"So..."
The old man crossed his arms.
"What kind of work?"
"International."
"Oh."
"...Very international."
"Dangerous?"
"Occasionally people try to stab me."
"Metaphorically?."
"Mostly."
The manager pinched the bridge of his nose.
"...Kid."
"Yeah?"
"I've known you for years."
"Mhm."
"If you were lying..."
"...You'd be better at it."
"...Fair."
I reached into my backpack and carefully placed an envelope on the counter.
"It's my resignation."
The manager looked at it, didn't touch it.
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
"You finally found something worth leaving for?"
"I think so."
The old man smiled.
"Then I'm not gonna stop you."
"Just promise me one thing, if this mysterious international job turns out to be run by a cult, call me first."
I laughed.
"Alright."
As i turned to leave-
"Hey."
The manager smiled.
"...Take care of yourself."
"I will."
"And kid..."
"Yeah?"
"I'm serious, you really do look more human today."
I was quiet for a moment, before I smiled a genuine one.
"Thanks."
Ok one more part job to quit.
off I go.
.....
The old man scratched his chin, as he watched Cassius leave.
"There's genuinely something wrong with that kid..."
When Cassius first came looking for a job years ago, I didn't chase him away.
Not because I needed the help.
Because this job isn't for everyone. You have to abandon a part of yourself to do it. Every morning, I slaughter pigs with my own hands. Most people take one look and never come back.
So I figured I'd scare him off.
I brought out one of the cleanest, cutest little pigs we had.
I held its head in place and handed him a knife.
"...Will I get paid?"
I nodded
"Alright." He approached the pig and instead of hesitating... He struck down and when the head didn't separate, he sliced it as the pig squeak for it's life, never once looking away, he kept trying to sever the pig head as it squeak, before finally severing it.
And while holding the pig head he tilted his head and asked, "Isn't it suppose to be a butcher knife, instead of a kitchen knife?."
No fear.
No disgust.
Just a genuine question.
That's when I realized there was something seriously wrong with that kid.
Today, though...
When he came to quit...
He smiled.
A real smile.
For the first time since I'd met him...
He looked more human than he had back then...
.....
As I walked down the street, the unmistakable sight of a kikiam cart caught my eye.
My stomach growling.
"I'm hungry."