I always liked the way late summer light pours through dirty glass. It softens everything—the city noise, the smell of hot pavement, even the weight in my chest I've carried for longer than I care to admit.
Café Olmo was the kind of place that wouldn't survive a Yelp review. The ceiling fans hung on for dear life, the tables wobbled like nervous liars, and the pastries tasted like they were baked with regret. But it had strong coffee, weak jazz, and a window seat that let me watch the world burn slowly. Which was exactly my kind of place.
My name is Tony Smitty—for now. I've had a hundred names. A thousand. Names you'd read in dusty scrolls or etched into forgotten tombs. But I like Tony. It's short. Unassuming. Easy to wear. Like a comfortable lie.
I've been alive for five thousand years. Immortal. Undying. Cursed. I grant favors. One per person. Miraculous, impossible things—things people would sell their souls for, and in a way, they do. Every favor comes with a contract. And when the time is up, I come with the Wheel. You spin. You pay. End of story.
My phone buzzed.
Text message: Ready. 46 W 28th St.
I sighed. Another debt due. Another contract ending. Another reminder that all gifts rot in time.
---
She waited for me in a luxury suite on the top floor of a glass tower that looked like it had been grown from the Manhattan bedrock rather than built. She stood by the window with her back to me, staring out over the city like she owned it. Which, in many ways, she did.
Evelyn Mars.
CEO of VirexCorp. Tech mogul. Billionaire. Queen of synthetic intelligence. Ten years ago, she was a promising but failing visionary with three lawsuits, a crumbling marriage, and early-stage multiple sclerosis.
And then she found me.
I gave her everything she asked for. Her body healed. Her mind sharpened. Her company rocketed into orbit, devouring competitors and rewriting industries. She walked into boardrooms like a prophet. And for ten years, she paid nothing.
Until now.
"You're early," she said without turning.
"No such thing as early when time is up."
She finally faced me. She hadn't aged a day since the contract. Cold eyes, sharper than her custom-tailored navy suit. But there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Fear. No one escapes the Wheel. Not even gods in glass towers.
"Let's get this over with."
I set the Wheel on the table. It shimmered faintly, runes glowing just under the surface like veins beneath skin. Twelve segments. All of them painful. All of them earned.
"I gave you ten years of power, clarity, and health. You built an empire. You walked again. You thrived. Now spin."
"This is barbaric," she said. "I'm more valuable than this."
"You're not being punished. You're balancing the scale."
"You think that makes you righteous?"
I didn't answer. I never do. The Wheel speaks louder than words.
She reached out. Her fingers brushed the bone handle.
Click. Click. Click.
The Wheel spun.
And Evelyn Mars, queen of the modern world, watched as her fate settled.
Segment 6: Aphasia. Loss of language comprehension and expression. Permanent.
It hit like a wave. Her breath caught. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Her eyes darted around the room in confusion, horror, disbelief.
I watched her crumble.
She fell to her knees. Tried to scream. What came out was garbled, twisted. Not words. Just broken sound.
This was always the worst part. The silence after the spin.
I packed the Wheel. Walked past her without a glance. The guards didn't stop me. They never do.
In the elevator down, I felt nothing. I never do.
Or almost never.
---
That night, I walked the city. No destination. Just motion. I watched lovers fight outside a deli. Saw a man give his umbrella to a stranger. A girl danced under streetlights with headphones in, smiling like the world hadn't yet tried to break her.
There was a time I would have smiled too.
I thought of Evelyn. Of the first favor I ever granted. Of how each contract felt like carving a notch into my soul.
I found myself on the Brooklyn Bridge at midnight. Leaning over the rail. Staring into the black river.
"Why am I still doing this?"
No one answered.
I don't know if I wanted one.