Chapter Text
Rain poured down from the night sky as thunder bellowed. The cold night breeze gently rustled leaves outside as the scents of coffee and baked treats filled the air.
Ryota Mitarai took a sip from his fifth coffee as he scribbled onto a drawing pad, seeing his artistic vision come to life on the laptop screen that laid before him. Every few seconds, his eyes would dart to the clock, knowing that soon, he’d be kicked out of the internet cafe for closing, back into the streets.
He just needed a few more minutes. It’d be perfect. PERFECT.
“Sir?”
Ryota snapped out of his daze. Glancing around, he saw a lady standing next to him, a look of concern worn upon her face.
“Sir,” the woman spoke gently. “I’ve… told you five times. The cafe’s closing.”
“O-oh,’ Ryota muttered. “R-right. Just give me a few more-”
“Sir. Please.”
Ryota said nothing. He merely finished his coffee, unplugged his devices, and left, bidding the barista a good day.
The life of a vagrant was not one Ryota would have chosen. He couldn’t understand why anyone would if they weren’t forced to.
He clenched his supplies tightly, covering them from the water droplets falling from above. He just had to finish one pilot. He could pitch it, and he’d make all the money he could to have a nice house. A good, stable life. And if that didn’t work, he could crowdfund online.
But first, he had to find somewhere to hunker down for the night.
Ryota staggered towards the nearest bus stop, sitting down. He tried to ignore the thunder, the fear that lightning could strike him down at any moment.
Ryota hid his belongings in his backpack, and waited. And waited. And waited.
Ryota startled awake as he heard footsteps. He must’ve drifted off to sleep as the hours passed by.
“Hello, sir.”
Ryota turned his head. Before him, he saw a man.
The man who stood before him carried a briefcase, and was dressed quite well. With a smile on his face, a suit, and a tie, he looked like a businessman.
“May I have a moment of your time?”
Ryota shuffled away. “I’m not giving you any money. I’m sorry.”
The man took a seat.
“I said I’m not giving you money, and… I don’t want to join. I’ve seen the news… everyone said that scient-”
The man’s briefcase was opened. Ryota’s eyes could only widen as he saw two paper squares, and more money than he’d ever seen in his life.
“Would you like to play a game with me?”
Ryota was silent. His mouth agape.
“It’s simple. It’s a Korean children’s game called ddakji.”
The man picked up one of the squares, a blue one, and placed it on the ground.
“You take a paper tile, slam it down onto the other one…”
The man picked up the other tile, tossing it down, causing the square to flip.
“And attempt to flip it. If you succeed, I will give you fifteen thousand yen. If I succeed, you shall give me fifteen thousand. Do we have a deal?”
Ryota stared. It was so simple, so easy… and too big of a price to pay.
“I… I’m sorry,” Ryota said, glancing away. “I don’t have the money.”
“Very well. Then you can pay with your body.”
Ryota quickly turned back, horrified. “T-that’s sexua-”
“If you fail, I shall simply give you one slap to the face. Do we have a deal?”
Ryota fell silent once more. It sounded too good to be true, but did he have any other choice?
Ryota took a deep breath, stood up… and grabbed the blue tile.
Steadying himself, Ryota threw the paper with all his might… and barely got the other one to move.
As the salesman threw his square, the paper flipped almost instantly.
“Well then,” the man said, a smile on his face. “Shall we?”
Ryota readied himself… and it still wasn’t enough to have fully prepared for the wave of pain that hit him as he felt a slap across his face.
“Now, do you wish to go again?”
Ryota went again. And again. And again. Slap, after slap, after slap. As he hit the ground, Ryota had to keep himself from throwing up from the pain alone.
And then… it happened.
Ryota didn’t think. He grabbed the paper, threw it with all of his might… and flipped it.
He let out a loud cheer as the man slowly clapped, before the man reached into his briefcase and pulled out the money he had promised.
Ryota took the money, counting it over and over to ensure he wasn’t being tricked.
It was legit. Fifteen thousand yen. But as he got to the end of the pile… he saw a business card.
“W-what is…”
“It’s an invitation, sir. Just a few more foreign children’s games, and you’ll have the ability to win even more money. Do we have a deal?”
Ryota lowered his head, deep in thought. “I… I don’t know, I’d say I’m good with this money as is…”
“I would argue otherwise.”
“W… what do you…”
The man stood up.
“Ryota Mitarai. 22. Immediately after leaving your parents’ home, you moved into a small apartment. Rather than seek out employment, you spent day after day working on a passion project, leaving you heavily behind on rent. As a result, you found yourself three-hundred and fifty thousand yen in debt. Through this, combined with medical expenses as a result of your lifestyle, and numerous trespassing charges, you are one million yen in debt, and homeless. Am I correct?”
Ryota’s heart pounded in his chest.
“How… how do you know that?”
The man merely looked down at the card in Ryota’s hand, smiled, and walked off.
As the bus arrived, Ryota could only stare at the card as he boarded.
Was it truly worth it?