25/08/2023, 20 o'clock
August (POV)
Today marks the beginning of my new life. Why? Because I'm finally paying off that damn loan I never even took. Heh… ha ha ha ha!
Finally, from today onwards, I can be a free man again. I can start the life I always wanted—the life of a shut-in geek, where I'll only eat, sleep, watch anime, and finally play games all day long. Yippy and ya!
I'll also check the stock market once in a while—after all, I need money to live this way, right?
Now, if you're wondering how I'm supposed to earn enough to sustain myself by just checking the stock market sometimes, let me tell you a little about myself.
I am August Richmen. Yes—Richmen. But it's just my surname. I'm not actually a rich man. I'm just your average neighborhood poor guy.
But look and behold, because this poor guy was a top graduate from a first-class university in e-commerce and business administration.
Now you might ask, why would someone like me be talking like a lunatic about becoming a shut-in?
Well, it all started about four years ago when that detestable corona virus started spreading.
At that time, I was in Region *F. For some reason, my company had sent me there on a business trip.
I didn't know that in that godforsaken place, I'd meet the worst disaster of my life.
And no—I'm not talking about the virus, okay?
That bitch was a thousand times worse than that damn corona.
That disaster's name was Mia. Mia Darkheart.
She had the smile of an angel, the bank account of a queen… and the mind of a lunatic.
Also, some important politician's daughter.
Now, long story short—for one reason or another, that bitch fell in love with me. Then a lot of things happened, and I rejected her—because, well, I'm not suicidal.
And the next thing I know? I'm in prison for a crime I had no idea about.
All because of that b*tch.
But as people say, "God's eyes are everywhere."
Apparently, the gods were squinting that day—because I sat in there for two weeks before being released.
And saying I was surprised would be the understatement of the year when I found out who released me.
It was her father.
Romeo Darkheart. Finance Minister of Region *F.
He looked like Spike from Tom and Jerry. Round belly, mustache, the works.
Nicest guy ever, surprisingly. Seemed genuinely ashamed of his daughter's antics.
I almost forgave the whole thing…
…Until he handed me a legal document.
A loan agreement. A massive one.
My soul straight-up evacuated my body when I saw the amount.
"This is punishment," he said. "You didn't deserve that. But I can't let my daughter's ego stay bruised without consequences."
Then, dead serious, he added: "Don't worry. I've punished her too. Sent her off to a strict temple monastery. No men allowed. Harsh monks. Hard labor."
…I said nothing.
What could I say? Thanks for the trauma, now where do I sign?
Honestly, I don't know if it was actual punishment or a genius move to keep her away from men forever. Either way, she got what she deserved.
I swore to myself—when I become a dad and some guy breaks my daughter's heart?
I'll be chill. I'll just break one leg. Or an arm.
Nothing excessive.
Anyway, the loan was ridiculous.
But that not-so-nice nice guy gave me a job—one that helped me pay it off in almost two years.
Backbreaking work. Long nights. Endless stress.
But today?
I'm finally done.
Now, I live for myself.
No more drama.
No more Mia.
To celebrate, I'm going to a pub. Gonna party like a man who just got his soul back.
2 hours later…
I stumble out of the pub, buzzed but not wasted.
I danced, I drank, I shouted nonsense at the DJ.
Life was good.
I was calling a taxi home, standing there, when I saw it.
A truck.
Nothing weird. The road was empty. Late night.
I didn't move. Didn't need to.
Then—
It sped up. Fast.
Too fast.
I froze.
It wasn't stopping.
CRASH!
The impact sent me flying, pain exploding through every part of me.
Blood. Screams. A strange ringing in my ears.
And through that haze…
I saw the truck stop. The driver came out.
Was that…?
That bitch.
Mia.
Wasn't she in some temple?
"Guess temple training gave her enough stealth to hijack a truck."
Even through the blood and agony, her voice came crystal clear—like a demon whispering in my brain:
"If you're not mine, then there's no need for you to exist."
And that...
was the last thing I heard,
in my short—but eventful—life.