Rayden's phone buzzed with another notification. He unlocked it, hoping for a miracle.
["Thank you for your application. Unfortunately—"]
He locked it again, tossing the phone onto the futon with a dull thump. The word "unfortunately" was starting to feel like his personal curse.
Rayden pulled the blanket over his head, letting out a long, muffled groan that vibrated against the thin fabric. The light seeping through the window was harsh, like it was judging him for still being in bed at noon.
"It's fine," he mumbled to himself. "It's just another rejection."
His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since yesterday's egg and rice dinner. Pushing himself up, he shuffled to the small kitchenette, pulling out the last packet of instant noodles. He poured water into the dented kettle, placing it on the portable stove, the soft click of the flame the only sound in the room.
While waiting for the water to boil, he checked his email again. Just in case. Maybe one company had decided to give him a chance overnight.
[Inbox: 0 new messages.]
The water boiled. He poured it over the noodles, the steam fogging up his glasses. He sat on the floor, slurping the noodles in silence, each bite tasting like salty disappointment.
After lunch, he forced himself to get dressed, fixing his hair and wearing the cleanest shirt he could find. He couldn't afford to mope around forever. He had to try again.
Rayden stepped out into the humid afternoon, clutching a small folder with his printed resume. The city felt too bright, too loud, too fast, but he ignored it, focusing on one goal: get a job.
The first place was a small bookstore. He liked the idea of working around books, helping customers find their next favorite read.
"We're not hiring right now, sorry," the shopkeeper said, not even looking up from the counter.
"Ah… okay. Thank you."
Next, he tried a small ramen shop, the smell of broth making his stomach rumble again even though he had just eaten.
"Sorry, kid, already found someone."
A delivery company was looking for part-timers, but when they asked if he had a bike, Rayden could only smile awkwardly.
"Ah, no…"
"Sorry, can't help you."
By the time the sun started to set, Rayden had visited six places. All rejections. Some polite, some indifferent, some looking at him like he was invisible. His legs were tired, his throat dry, and his resume folder was starting to look worn at the edges.
He stopped by a vending machine, pulling out a few coins to buy the cheapest can of coffee. It was lukewarm, but he drank it anyway, leaning against the vending machine as he watched people pass by with shopping bags and tired smiles, heading home after a long day.
At least they had somewhere to go.
Rayden checked his phone, seeing a message from Nick in the group chat.
[Nick: "Man, my boss is strict, but the pay is good! I'll treat you next time, Ray!"]
Rayden's thumb hovered over the keyboard, his face blank. He typed:
"Congrats! Looking forward to it."
And hit send.
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
The sky was turning a deep blue by the time he returned to his room. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed down on you, heavy and suffocating. He dropped his resume folder onto the floor, flopping onto the futon as he stared at the ceiling.
The fan spun above him, wobbling slightly, squeaking with every turn.
"I'm trying," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the empty room. "I'm really trying."
His phone buzzed on the floor. Another notification from a job site.
["New Part-Time Jobs Available in Your Area!"]
He ignored it, closing his eyes as the squeaking of the fan lulled him into an uneasy nap, dreams filled with the faces of shopkeepers shaking their heads, of closed doors, and of his own reflection staring back at him with tired, empty eyes.
The next morning, Rayden woke up to the shrill ring of his alarm, the sound splitting his head like a hammer. He turned it off, staring at the ceiling fan above, wobbling in its uneven spin.
"Another day, another rejection," he muttered, forcing himself to sit up.
His phone pinged with new part-time listings, but he didn't feel excited. He felt tired, his bones heavy as he dragged himself to wash his face in cold water, hoping it would wake him up enough to pretend he was motivated.
Rayden stepped out into the morning air, resume folder in hand, dressed in the same cleaned shirt and faded jeans. His shoes were starting to tear at the edges, but he ignored it.
The first place was a small cafe looking for servers.
"Sorry, you don't have prior experience."
The second place was a small supermarket.
"We'll call you if we need someone."
They never did.
The third place was a laundromat needing a cleaner.
"Position just got filled."
The fourth was a tiny flower shop.
"Sorry, we don't need male staff."
Rayden's feet hurt. He sat on a bench, pulling out his phone to check his bank app.
Balance: 1274 yen.
That was barely enough for food for a few days, let alone next month's rent.
He closed the app, looking up at the sky, the clouds moving lazily as if mocking him for rushing around when nothing was changing.
"What am I even doing?"
The day grew warmer as he tried one last place—a small cleaning service. The owner, a grumpy man with a cigarette hanging from his lips, looked him up and down.
"You look skinny. Can you even lift heavy trash bags?"
"I can," Rayden replied, forcing a small smile.
The man exhaled smoke. "We'll call you."
Rayden bowed, clutching his folder to his chest as he stepped out. His reflection in the glass door showed a tired young man with dull blue hair and hollow eyes.
"We'll call you," he repeated to himself in a mocking tone, voice cracking.
By the time he returned to his room, the sun was dipping behind the apartment buildings, painting the sky a burnt orange. His legs felt like lead as he climbed the narrow stairs to his floor.
As he approached his door, he froze.
A piece of paper was taped to it.
"Notice of Eviction."
Rayden stood there, the hallway suddenly too quiet, the buzz of a distant TV the only sound. His hands trembled as he pulled the paper down, reading the bold letters.
["Due to non-payment of rent, you are hereby given a 7-day notice to vacate the premises."]
His eyes scanned the paper, trying to find a loophole, an escape, but there was none.
Inside his room, Rayden sat on the floor, the paper in his hand, the silence of the room pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. The fan spun above, creaking in the silence.
"Seven days…"
Seven days before he would have nowhere to go. Nowhere to sleep. No job. No money.
He picked up his phone, opening his contacts, hovering over Nick's number. He could call him, ask for help, but his pride stopped him. Nick had just started a job. It wasn't fair to dump his problems on him.
His stomach growled, but he ignored it, pulling his knees to his chest, resting his forehead on them.
"What do I even do now?"
His phone buzzed with a message.
[Mom: "How are you doing, Ray? Are you eating properly?"]
Rayden stared at the message, his fingers hovering over the keyboard.
["Yeah. Doing fine."]
He hit send, turning the screen off, dropping the phone onto the floor as he lay back, staring at the ceiling with empty eyes.
"Fine, huh…"
The fan creaked above, the last light of the sun fading from the window, leaving the room in darkness.
Just seven days.