The street outside WcNonald's was alive in a way it never was at two in the afternoon. Well, aside from the odd celebrity here and there looking for a quick feed.
Not the usual lunchtime trickle of office workers and retirees killing time. This atmosphere was louder.
Much busier.
Music bled from portable speakers. A small knot of teenagers hovered near the windows, phones already raised, lenses hunting for moments worth monetising. Someone laughed too loudly. Someone else nearly got clipped by a board skidding across the concrete.
Magnus noticed it while wiping down the counter. The air felt charged, like static before a storm.
Everyone outside knew something was going on, but the staff of WcNonald's were oblivious.
"Imagine if it was a zombie apocalypse," Magnus mused to himself while looking over a takeaway order.
Then the skater came in.
He couldn't have been older than twenty.
Designer hoodie, distressed jeans that probably cost more than Magnus's weekly rent, and a board tucked under his arm like an accessory rather than a tool.
The board showed a smiling woman wreathed in flames and a string of letters strewn over the artwork.
"Sk8er."
The kid swaggered up to the counter, grin already loaded. "Yo. What's the most expensive thing you got?" He asked the cashier.
The cashier froze.
Jess, barely eighteen, C-Rank Multitasking, eyes flicking helplessly between the menu and the skater's expectant face. "Uh... we don't really... I mean-"
Magnus stepped in before the moment could collapse into awkwardness.
"There isn't really an expensive option," he said calmly. "But there is a secret item. The quadruple beef stacker deluxe. Not advertised. An absolute nutritional compliance nightmare."
The skater's eyebrows shot up. "Say less."
Magnus hadn't been looking at him properly. Not until then.
When their eyes met, something clicked.
Recognition bloomed on the skater's face, sudden and genuine. "Oh, shit. Wait. You're that guy!"
Magnus felt his shoulders tense. "Am I?"
"Yeah, bro. From the clip!" He snapped his fingers, searching his memory. "The smoothie thing. My fans were going off about it! They said you looked, like… wrecked." His grin softened, just a fraction. "I had to check the video and dude, it looked like your world ended for a hot minute. Sorry about that. You know how it is. Crowd energy gets stupid sometimes."
"It's alright," Magnus said, and meant it. "These things happen."
"But not because of me," the skater said quickly, almost defensively. "I'm a man of the people, yeah? I can't let something like that stand. Here, gimme your phone."
The request should have set off alarms. Every instinct Magnus had ever cultivated.
Every caution sharpened by being broke, overlooked, and replaceable, told him not to hand a stranger his phone.
Buying a new phone would take months of saving, even with the increased pay from his promotion.
But the skater looked relaxed. Like the world had never once taught him to be careful.
And, disturbingly, Magnus felt no resistance rise up in him at all. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.
"Sure," he said, pulling it from his pocket.
The skater tapped his phone against Magnus's.
A soft, familiar chime rang out.
An unexpected chime.
The sound of money.
"There," the skater said, already turning away. "You're sorted for drinks for a bit. Get as many smoothies as you want. And yeah, that mega-burger thing? I'll take one of those. Legend."
He slid the phone back across the counter.
Magnus flipped his phone around and glanced down.
~~~
$2,000 transferred.
Sender: Luey the SK8ER.
~~~
Magnus blinked.
His stomach dropped.
He suddenly felt sick.
His heart raced.
That was rent. Utilities. Groceries. Vet bills. A month of his life, handed over with the same thoughtlessness as tipping a barista a dollar or two.
"It'll be brought out when it's ready," Magnus said carefully. "Luey."
The skater flashed him a grin and wandered off to a booth, already half-absorbed in his phone, the transaction forgotten the instant it stopped being novel.
Magnus stood there long after, staring at the notification.
'What the actual fuck?'
People didn't do that. Not to managers at fast food joints. Not to nobodies. Not to someone with no public skills, no glow, no ranking worth bragging about. Especially not when the other person was the S-Ranker.
S-Rankers didn't notice people like Magnus, and if they did, it was always part of some scheme to increase their reputation.
They didn't throw money around without blinking. They didn't apologise.
Unless something was wrong.
Unless something had shifted.
He checked his account. Once. Twice.
The deposit was real.
His hands felt unsteady for the rest of the shift.
Luey the SK8ER recorded the entire experience. From showing that he'd made things right with Magnus, to devouring the monster of a burger delivered to him by Magnus personally.
When the doors finally locked and the lights dimmed, the street outside had already forgotten the moment. The skater was gone. The crowd dispersed. Another blip in the endless feed.
Magnus stepped out into the cooling air, exhaustion settling into his bones. His usual smoothie place was shuttered, lights dark. Closed early, like always. One of the small, quiet consequences of being promoted just enough to work later than everyone else.
He sighed and started home.
The pay was better now. Enough that he and Lazlo were eating properly. Enough that the fridge wasn't a graveyard of cheap calories anymore.
But as he walked, rain beginning to wet the pavement.
'Of course... On a day I forget my umbrella...'
Magnus couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just brushed up against the fault line between two worlds.
One where success was granted, broadcast, and applauded.
And one where it was scraped together inch by inch, paid for in sweat, silence, and days no one ever filmed.
A world of being invisible.
Something had crossed that line today.
"And which side do I even stand on anymore?" Magnus looked at the dark sky and the silver clouds illuminated that were by the moon as the rain soaked his hair.