บท 3: Hard living

The city market, a labyrinth of stalls and haggling voices, had once again become a battleground. Michael, a veteran of countless such skirmishes, emerged victorious, his arms laden with bags filled with the spoils of his labor. Vegetables, spices, long rice, and, most importantly, a substantial cut of pure beef—a rare luxury—bulged from the overfilled sacks. The beef alone had cost him a staggering fifteen hours of his precious lifetimes, a testament to its value in this harsh, time-currency world.

"Can't wait to see Mira's face," he murmured, a rare smile gracing his lips. He had spent a full twenty-four hours of lifetimes, a day of his limited time, to create an unforgettable meal for his sister.

As he ventured into the rundown neighborhood he called home, the contrast between the bustling market and this neglected corner of the city was stark. Piles of refuse littered the streets, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of decay. Fearsome-looking men loitered on street corners, their eyes hard and suspicious. Vendors hawked their wares, their voices hoarse from shouting, and the dilapidated buildings leaned precariously, as if on the verge of collapse. The stench of open sewers hung heavy in the air.

Michael and his sister, Mira, resided in a towering, dilapidated apartment building on the fourth floor. He had chosen the location for its relative isolation, a refuge from the chaos below, and also because it was harder for people to rob them. The only regular intruder was their landlady, Mrs. Jones, an elderly woman with a penchant for gaudy gowns and a relentless pursuit of rent.

Mrs. Jones, whom Mira had affectionately dubbed "Old Hag," was a constant source of irritation. She patrolled the building, her fake elegance a stark contrast to the squalor around her, demanding rent from her tenants. Michael chuckled inwardly, remembering the first time Mira had used the nickname, a moment of shared defiance.

He had grown accustomed to the sights, sounds, and smells of his neighborhood, a necessary adaptation to survival. As he entered the building's dimly lit lobby, he encountered Mrs. Jones, her face caked with makeup, attempting to recapture a youth long past.

"Hey you! When are you going to pay your rent?" she demanded, her voice shrill.

'Does she think she's still young? She's sixty, for God's sake. She should be taking care of her grandchildren, not putting on makeup,' Michael thought, his irritation simmering.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Jones. I don't think you'll ever see me again after today. If you do, I will pay the rent," he replied, attempting to sidestep her.

"Hey moron. Are you going somewhere? If you are, first pay me my rent before you try to run away with your sister," she retorted, her eyes narrowed.

"Don't worry, I always keep my words. If you see me after tomorrow, I will pay you the rent, and I am not running away," Michael said, ascending the worn stairs.

"I will give you today and tomorrow then. You should pay me my three months' rent after tomorrow!" she yelled after him.

'Why is she always yelling about rent? It's not like we're living in an estate or mansion. She's ranting about a rundown apartment,' Michael thought, his patience wearing thin.

Upstairs, in their cramped apartment, Mira, a fifteen-year-old with flowing brown hair and bright eyes, sat across from Sara, a beautiful woman with an air of practiced charm.

"Sister Sara, thank you for spending time with me," Mira said, her voice warm.

"It's nothing, Mira. I'm your brother's friend. It's only right to take care of you," Sara replied, her smile radiant.

'Do you think I care about you, little slut? I'm just here so I can take lifetimes from your foolish brother,' she thought, her smile masking a calculating mind.

"I'm happy for my brother, finding such a loving and caring beauty like you," Mira said, arranging the cards for another round of their game.

'Who told her I'm here to play cards? I wonder how many lifetimes she has with her. What if I try to manipulate her into giving me some?' Sara mused. "Mira… how many lifetimes do you have left?"

Lifetimes, the city's currency, could be transferred willingly between individuals.

"Huh…? Well, Miss Sara, I have a total of one month here," Mira said, showing Sara her bracelet, a simple band that displayed her remaining lifetimes.

'One month?! While I have only three weeks? That fool gave his sister one month of lifetimes while he got only three days. How can someone be so foolish?' Sara thought, her eyes widening.

Michael wasn't foolish; he simply adored his sister. He would give her everything if he could.

"Wow! Your brother is really lovely. He cherishes you so much," Sara exclaimed, forcing a smile.

"Yeah, I don't know how many times I've asked my brother to take some, but he always refuses," Mira said, her smile tinged with sadness.

'Because he's a moron! Who on earth doesn't want to live long? Well, only your stupid brother,' Sara thought.

"Okay, Miss Sara, let's continue our game. I will win you again," Mira said, oblivious to Sara's true intentions.

"Okay, let's continue," Sara said, forcing another smile.

'I can do this. I came here with a plan, and with Michael's brain, I know he will fall for it,' she thought, her eyes glinting with cunning.

"Come on, Miss Sara, I am winning again. Now take two," Mira said, her voice filled with playful triumph.

"You cheater," Sara retorted, feigning indignation.

"I'm not a cheater. I'm just better than you. Now hold on and take another two," Mira teased.

"What? How did you…?" Sara exclaimed, her voice trailing off.

Outside the apartment, Michael paused, his brow furrowed. "Wait a second, isn't that Sara's voice?" he asked himself, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

'How could I forget about her? She's here to tell me about her plan, which changed my life and hers,' Michael thought, his heart pounding. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions within him. He didn't have the heart to kill anyone, a trait that had shaped his previous life in the game, where he had relied on stealth and cunning. But now, the thought lingered, dark and unsettling.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

He knocked gently on the door, even though it was his own apartment.

"I think it's brother," Mira said, standing up. She was about to open the door, but Sara stopped her.

"Let me do it," Sara said, her voice smooth.

"Okay," Mira said, sitting back down as Sara walked to the door and opened it.