It was beyond irritating. As expected, Edmund was still utterly useless.
An hour later, Sam was walking alone after leaving Edmund and Clara to themselves. Edmund was supposed to, at the very least, follow through on his word and ask her for the salary increase.
'I don't know... maybe this is for the best where Clara is concerned,' Sam mused.
According to the novel, Clara's love for Edmund was catastrophic by every measure. She didn't just love him; she was on the verge of turning into a predator, ready to abandon her very humanity. The final stage of her descent would be triggered once she lost every possible chance to be with him.
Since he was eventually going to receive a higher salary anyway, Sam decided to head to a cafe for a cup of coffee. As evening approached, he stepped into a cafe located near the Clock Tower in the main square—his favorite spot.
The moment he sat down, he ordered his coffee. Alone with his thoughts, he opened his phone and logged into one of the world's online gambling apps.
Gambling had been Sam's ruin in his previous life. It had left him completely bankrupt; worse, his home had been raided due to gambling debts. As he scrolled through the app's interface, mesmerized by the flashing lights of the virtual roulette, he decided to make a single deposit. Just one spin, he told himself. Just to test the waters. Or at least, that's what he believed.
By the time he hit the "deposit" button, his coffee had arrived. He took a sip as he placed his first bet on the numbers. The virtual wheel spun and landed.
Win! 3x!
"Fun... how about one more?"
Loss.
"I need to focus this time."
Loss.
"I've found the trick!"
Win! 5x!
But then...
Loss. Loss. Loss.
A negative figure suddenly flashed beneath line.
(Debt: 330 Gold Pieces)
"Damn it! I have to recoup the losses!" Sam gasped, his breath hitching, his eyes bloodshot as he hunched over the table.
"Get me some grape juice!" he barked at the waiter.
He had already messaged Sarah, asking for 500 gold pieces.
[600 Gold has been transferred to your bank account.]
She had given him even more than he asked for without a single word, despite the fact that he hadn't checked on her since morning. But that wasn't the worst of it. Sam drank and drank, trying to drown the stinging pain of his loss.
'Why did I go back to gambling?'
Sometimes things start well only to end in ruin. Drunk and delirious, Sam staggered toward the wine table to open another bottle, but a hand pulled him back.
"Hah? What do you want? Get off me!"
The blurred figure signaled that he had to pay for what he'd already consumed.
"I'll pay your damn money! I don't care!"
The worker ignored him and pushed him away, but Sam continued to wail and cause a scene. Suddenly, a splash of ice-cold water hit him directly in the face.
"What do you think you're doing?!" Sam sputtered.
As his vision cleared, he realized it was Old Max who had emptied the bucket over him in front of the crowd. The old man pointed a withered finger toward the door.
Pay and leave.
Sam had no choice but to pay and retreat, realizing that despite everything, he was now completely broke once again.
Sam didn't exactly know where he was going.
He knew the way back to the Academy, but the air here felt stifling. He felt like he needed just one win—just one—to fix his mood. He needed a flicker of good fortune to extinguish the sparks of his misery. But what was the point?
He wouldn't succeed anyway. He only had enough money left for the bus fare back, and he couldn't afford to lose that.
Yet, he opened the app one last time.
Just to recoup the losses... just to feel like he hadn't lost everything for nothing. It was all or nothing now. Either win it all back or lose everything.
The debt was finally cleared.
But that wasn't enough to make up for the losses. He had lost too much, and he didn't know when he would get that kind of money again.
"If it wins this time, no one will be able to match me."
He placed a bet on the table, putting everything on the line. This was the true thrill of winning—wagering every last bit he had. He only possessed a single gold piece, but he chose the biggest bet on the table, and the debt settled back upon him.
One click.
The cursed wheel spun, creating a perfect rotation like a deep, glowing sun—burning away your sins and offering you the most glittering gold coins. It spun and spun, as if it would never stop until it landed on his special, winning number.
Loss.
He lost. Oh... where on earth would he get the money to cover this loss now?
[ I need another 500 😃 ]
The reply from Sarah flashed instantly on the chat:
[ Are you joking?.. ]
[ Please... ]
A minute passed.
[ 500 gold pieces have been transferred to your account. ]
It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Win... Loss... The wheel keeps spinning.
And after that, it doesn't really matter what happened. You already know what awaits you at the end.
In the trash dump behind the apartment buildings, he lay there, sleeping.
\ I didn't say you didn't understand... He had scratched those words onto the filthy walls.
\ The darkness of the night, like a bed of wind, whispers in your ear.
He began to sob.
/ I know I hurt you... More and more.
\ I didn't say you didn't understand...
Cough... Cough... Cough... The sound of a dry cough echoing from the depths of the surrounding night jolted him awake from the darkness of his unconscious mind.
He had been sleeping in a revolting state on one of the chairs in the same cafe. Old Max sat right across from him, coughing as he stared him down. Finally, the old man spoke:
"You died. Now, you are here with me."
"NOOOOOO!"
Sam bolted upright, looking around in a state of sheer madness, his eyes fixed on Old Max. But the old man simply pushed him back down.
"Why are you like this? Just accept your death."
Sam began to weep again, his voice breaking.
"I haven't lived long enough! I want to live! I want to live!"
Old Max looked annoyed, taking a sip of his coffee.
"Don't say that. I don't want to hear the typical nonsense of the youth."
In the empty cafe... amidst tables void of people... Old Max was the only one there.
Had he truly died? Would he really never live to make up for all that lost time? Was all the pain he had endured throughout his life to be for nothing?
At least he wouldn't be alone in his eternal salvation; Old Max would be with him. Here, in this empty, stifling, colorless place.
Sam slept... for a hundred, a thousand, a million years... He didn't count, but he felt every second. Old Max's posture never changed; he remained seated in his place, sipping his coffee and holding his newspaper.
When Sam finally decided to stand up... his hair had turned entirely white, and his eyes had transformed into the darkness of the abyss. He approached with steps he hadn't taken in eons and stood before Old Max.
"What time is it now?"
Old Max laughed. "Why do you want to know?"
Sam had grown weary. "Is there a way back?"
Old Max looked at him, opening his withered eyes wide to stare at Sam.
"Sam... you died."
When Sam heard the old man utter that name, he broke into an incredibly cold smile, staring back at Old Max.
"You're lying."
"What are you saying?"
"You're lying. My real name isn't Sam."
Sam was adopted, after all. The name 'Sam' was given to him by his nanny. If this truly was the end, then his real name was not Sam Wells.
The truth was, Sam didn't even know his own name. No one knew. Not him, not the world, and perhaps not even fate itself. He was 'Sam' only because that was the name he woke up to in this world—the name given to him by a nanny who found a boy with no past. As for the name his parents whispered in his ear before they vanished into the void of death... that name was lost forever.
By denying the name 'Sam,' he wasn't claiming another identity; he was reclaiming his soul from the clutches of a death that didn't even know who it was trying to take.