"Sarah," Alex says, his voice dangerously quiet. "What is this?"
Sarah's face flushes, a mixture of shock and embarrassment. She takes a half-step away from the older man, whose smile has been replaced by a look of mild, condescending annoyance.
"Alex! What are you doing here?" she stammers. "This is… this is Mr. Sterling. He's a friend of my mother's. He was just… helping me pick out a gift."
"A gift," Alex repeats, his eyes not leaving the expensive designer bag in her hand. He looks at the older man, at his perfectly tailored suit, his confident posture, his dismissive gaze that sweeps over Alex's worn jeans and simple jacket.
"Is there a problem here, son?" Mr. Sterling asks, his voice smooth and patronizing.
Son. The word is a slap in the face. This man looks at him like he's a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe.
And Sarah… she's lying.
'She's a terrible liar.'
Without changing his expression, Alex holds her gaze. "I think you and I need to talk. Alone."
He turns and walks away, the implicit command hanging in the air. After a moment of panicked hesitation, he hears her hurried footsteps following him.
They end up outside, the cool night air a sharp contrast to the heated silence between them.
"It's not what you think, Alex," she begins, her voice defensive.
"Then what is it?" he asks, his own voice tight with a pain so sharp it feels like swallowing glass.
"A friend of your mother's who buys you thousand-dollar handbags? I just sold my grandfather's watch to get enough money to buy you a cheap necklace, Sarah."
Tears well in her eyes, but they are tears of frustration, not guilt.
"Maybe if you didn't have to sell family heirlooms, I wouldn't need help!" she retorts, her voice rising. "I loved you, Alex, but I'm tired! I am so tired of the constant stress about money. I'm tired of watching you drown and not being able to do anything about it!"
"Mr. Sterling offered me an internship at his firm. A real one. A career. He was celebrating with me."
The pieces click into place, but it doesn't lessen the sting. It makes it worse. She's not cheating on him. She's outgrowing him.
"I have plans," Alex says, the words feeling weak and hollow even to himself. "I'm working on something. Something big."
Sarah lets out a bitter, heartbroken laugh.
"Plans? Alex, please, listen to yourself! Look at you! You're drowning, and you're pulling me down with you. You have no ambition, no drive! You talk about dreams in that dusty apartment, but you're stuck!"
Her voice breaks, but she pushes on, every word a final, devastating blow.
"That man just offered me a real future! An internship that pays more than you make in an entire year. What can you offer me? More secrets? More excuses? More late-night calls about overdue bills? What future is there with that, Alex?"
"Sarah, please…"
"STOP IT!!! I don't want to associate with you anymore!!!"
"Really? After all these years?"
"Those years mean nothing! You know what? I regret being with you! Yea you were strong and all mighty in the University. But love without money doesn't benefit anyone! I am done being with you. Bye-bye FOREVER! Please don't try to call me again.
He has no answer. Both of them turned their backs on each other, as Alex walked off his eyes started to trickle.
Uncontrollably.
Because she is right. From her perspective, from the perspective of this world, he is a failure. A man of empty promises and mounting debt. Powerless.
The fight goes out of him, extinguished by the cold, hard truth. He just stares at her in his phone which he set as a wallpaper, his heart breaking.
He doesn't remember the drive home.
He walks into his apartment and is greeted by the monuments of his failure. The stack of red-stamped bills on the counter. The shabby furniture. The faint smell of desperation.
He looks at his reflection in the dark TV screen. The haunted man is still there. But the fear, the hesitation, the weakness—it's all gone.
Burned away by the acid of humiliation. In its place is a terrifying, absolute calm.
'She wants ambition,' he thinks, the words a silent, iron-clad vow. 'She wants a future. Fine.'
'I will build one without her, I will become so rich she will regret living every moment of her life.'
The memories of the wasteland are no longer a source of trauma. They are a road map. The gold is no longer a treasure.
It is a weapon.
"AI," he says, his voice cold and steady, a commander giving his first, true order.
"I want to go back!"
[Welcome back host! For your resolve, we have awarded you with Tutorial 1 rewards]
[Inventory.
– A space where you can store objects, the stored objects doesn't get affected by time space, living beings can't be preserved in the inventory.]
Seeing the message again he become even more gutted, in the past few days he had attempted to forgot everything and live a normal life.
"Would anyone be dumber than me?"
He clicks his tongue and with cool head places food, fresh vegetables, fruits, snacks even water in his inventory.
"Hum, that will do!"
Satisfied Alex goes to his closest puts on his trek suit, wears the heavy but hollow backpack.
'Since I can't use inventory in front of…Maya. I guess I will pretend to take things out of my backpack, this will be also helpful to store gold from that world.'
Finally, with everything being settled he takes one look at his deceased mother's portrait hanging in the wall and says to the photo, 'I am going Mom. Kindly bless me!'
"I am ready to go!"
[Processing host's desire! Initiated Dimensional Transfer!]
The world around him begins to dissolve into a familiar, nauseating vortex of blue light. He is not fleeing this time. He is not a victim.
He is a man with a purpose.