Chapter 7 A plan 3
Leo chewed on his lip, his gaze fixed on the coins in his hand, then back at Rick. "You seem… awfully confident for a freshman kid. And this 'system' of yours… It's a huge gamble on my part, too. What if it's all just hot air? What if everything is a dud?"
"Then you've lost nothing but a few minutes of your time," Rick countered calmly. "I'll be paying for the tickets, of course. Your investment is your time, and your willingness to trust. My investment is everything. But I assure you, Leo, my numbers are as close to a certainty as you can get. I wouldn't be doing this if I weren't absolutely sure. This isn't a game for me. This is… crucial." His voice took on a deeper, more resonant tone, a hint of the mature man bleeding through.
Leo studied him, his eyes searching for any sign of deception. Rick met his gaze steadily, projecting sincerity and conviction. Leo saw not just a desperate teenager, but something older, more determined, in the younger boy's eyes. The desperation in Rick's face was palpable, but it was a quiet, controlled desperation, born of something far greater than typical youthful folly.
"Alright," Leo finally said, drawing a breath. "Alright. I'll bite. Twenty percent, you said? But for now, two thousand, right?"
"Twenty percent of the total winnings later, but for now, two thousand," Rick confirmed. "For your help, for being my proxy, and for your silence afterwards. This remains strictly between us. Agreed?"
Leo nodded slowly. "Agreed. So, what's the plan? We go in there and…?"
"We go in there together," Rick instructed, his voice crisp, taking charge. "You approach the counter. You ask for the lottery slips. I'll write the numbers while you look away. My two conditions are: You will not memorize the numbers, and just hand it over to the counter, and no questions asked. Once you hand them to Mr. Pinter, pay for them with the money I give you, and collect the receipt. Then, we'll discuss the next steps for claiming the prize."
He pulled out a fifteen-Poh bill from his pocket, a surprisingly small amount for a dreamer. This is already all of his allowance for today. "This should cover the ticket and a little extra. Keep the change, consider it a down payment on your two thousand."
Leo squinted at the sight of the cash. It seems that this guy is as destitute as he was. Is this kid serious? He was clearly as poor as himself. He suddenly thought he had fallen for a trick, but deep in his heart, he still had that sliver of hope that everything was true.
"Okay," Leo said, taking the money. His heart was a bit disappointed. "Okay. Let's do it. But you better be right about these numbers, kid. For both our sakes."
Rick gave him a determined nod. "I will be. Let's go."
They walked back to the lottery outlet, the short distance feeling infinitely longer than before. Rick felt a surge of nervous excitement, a desperate hope that this plan, cobbled together in a waking dream, would actually work. This was his chance. Jenny's chance.
As they approached the door, Rick felt a faint tremor in his hand, a dull ache in his finger where he had cut himself earlier. He discreetly glanced at the wound. It was still there, a tiny, dark scab. The physical link. The dream wasn't a dream. This was reality. This was his second chance.
Leo pushed open the door, the bell jingling again. Mr. Pinter looked up, his eyes scanning Leo, then briefly flickering to Rick, who stood a few feet back, trying to appear nonchalant, as if merely waiting for a friend.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Pinter," Leo said, his voice surprisingly steady, despite the obvious tension in his shoulders. "I'd like to get some lottery slips, please. For the 3-digit game."
Mr. Pinter nodded, passing a slip and a pen across the counter. Rick grabbed it and marked the numbers while Leo looked away. After a while, Rick nodded his head and handed it to Leo face down. Leo then put his name and signature on the back of the slip. The atmosphere in the small shop was thick with unspoken tension, at least for Rick. Mr. Pinter, oblivious, continued to stack his scratch cards.
Finally, Leo handed the completed slips back to Mr. Pinter, who fed them into the machine. The gentle whirring sound filled the silence, and then, with a soft thud, the official lottery tickets emerged. Mr. Pinter printed the receipt, took the money Leo handed him, and gave him the change.
"Good luck, son," Mr. Pinter said, his usual neutral expression returning.
He looked at Rick with a slight smile.
"Thank you," Leo replied, his voice a little hoarse, as he carefully folded the tickets and the receipt, tucking them into his front pocket. He glanced at Rick, a silent message passing between them: We did it.
They exited the shop, the sunlight feeling blinding after the dim interior. They walked a few paces down the street, putting some distance between themselves and the lottery outlet, before stopping in a secluded alcove between two buildings.
"Okay," Leo said, pulling out the folded tickets, his hands still trembling slightly. "It's here." He offered it to Rick.
Rick took the ticket and nodded his head. Then he patted Leo's shoulder with a smirk. Leo couldn't help but feel strange. Did he get scammed or something?
When he looked at Rick's eyes, he could not help but trust the young guy.
We need to meet tomorrow morning. Same place, same time, right here. We'll make arrangements to claim the prize. Do you understand?"
Leo nodded, his eyes wide. "Got it. Same place, same time. Tomorrow morning. What if… what if they don't hit?"
Rick allowed himself a small, confident smile. "They will. Trust me. Just remember to meet here and do not tell anyone, not a single soul. Not your family, not your friends. Nobody. This is our secret. Our opportunity. By tomorrow, your life could be completely different."
Leo swallowed hard, clutching his fists tightly. "I won't. I swear. This is… If this is real… I will…"
"It is," Rick said, cutting him off, his voice firm. "Now, I need to go. I have other preparations to make. See you tomorrow, Leo."
He turned and walked away, leaving a stunned Leo Chen standing alone on the sidewalk. Rick's heart was pounding, a wild, exhilarating rhythm. He had done it. He had a plan. He had a proxy. And if everything worked, he would have the financial means to change Jenny's fate.
He felt the familiar blurring sensation as he walked, the world around him beginning to distort.
"Damn… did it take me a long time just to buy a ticket?" he muttered.
But then he frowned as he counted that it was only about 6 hours. How come the dream is already ending? He quickly hid the ticket inside a small pocket in his backpack. He knew that this pocket was something he did not use or check when he was a student. A perfect hiding place from his past self.
The noise of City Bee faded into a dull roar, then a distant hum. The sensation of being stretched, pulled through an invisible membrane, enveloped him. His body slumped onto the park bench he had momentarily sat on to gather his thoughts, the crumpled paper with the lottery numbers falling from his grasp as consciousness slipped away.
He woke with a gasp, his eyes flying open to the familiar, oppressive silence of his mansion bedroom. The grand chandelier, still unlit, hung like a silent sentinel above him. The scent of aged leather and dust replaced the vibrant smells of City Bee's streets. He was back. Back in the present. The cold and lonely room, once a sanctuary of his ambition, now felt like a prison built of regret.
He lay there for a moment, disoriented, the recent past a vivid, almost painful memory. His right hand still tingled where he had cut it. He looked at his finger. The tiny, fresh scab was still there, a physical anchor to the impossible journey. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be.
He swung his legs out of bed, his mind reeling. What had his 'old self' done? Had he behaved normally? Had Jenny noticed anything else? He needed to check the lottery results from 'yesterday' – meaning, the lottery draw that would have happened today in 1997. His heart raced with a nervous anticipation he hadn't felt in decades.
He stumbled to his study, flipping on the lights. The familiar glow of his computer screen offered a strange comfort. He navigated to the Kingdom of Poh's national lottery archives. He typed in the date: "June 16, 1997." His fingers hovered over the 'search' button, a wave of anxiety washing over him. This was it. Though he already wrote the winning combination and knew it, it was still an exciting event.
He clicked.
The screen loaded, displaying the winning number for the 3-digit lottery. Rick's eyes scanned the results, and his breath caught in his throat. There it was, the number he had written in the ticket.
And then, a slow, triumphant smile spread across his face, a genuine, unburdened smile that hadn't graced his features in years.
He leaned back in his chair, a wave of profound relief washing over him, so intense it almost brought him to his knees. He had done it. The first step. He had started to secure the capital.
But then, a new set of anxieties began to ripple through him. Leo. The tickets. The claiming process. The secrecy. His "old self." How much had he really changed? How would he ensure the funds were safely transferred to Jenny without raising suspicion or revealing his incredible secret? And how would he keep his past self from squandering this newfound wealth?
He closed his eyes, a new resolve hardening in his chest. This was just the beginning. The biggest challenge wasn't winning the lottery; it was navigating the delicate, dangerous currents of time itself. He had returned to his cold, lonely mansion, but the warmth of a new, different future, one where Jenny lived, now flickered within him, a beacon in the vast, dark ocean of time. He had a very long way to go, but now, he had hope. And he had a plan. A risky, unconventional plan, but a plan nonetheless.