Debt collectors.
If my memory served me right, there was a time when I urgently needed money to cover a sudden expense. Back then, panic had overridden common sense, and I had borrowed from a small lending service without thinking too hard about the terms.
It wasn't a huge amount, but the interest had been brutal.
Every paycheck felt like it vanished the moment it touched my account. I still remembered the stress of checking my balance every morning, calculating whether I could afford groceries or if instant noodles would have to carry me through another week.
Those were not pleasant days.
But that was months ago.
I slowed my steps slightly as the memory surfaced more clearly.
I had finished paying it off.
Every last installment. Even the ridiculous processing fee they tried to sneak in at the end.
I remembered the relief when I saw the final confirmation message, the quiet satisfaction of knowing that one more burden had been erased from my life.
No outstanding balance or anything of the sorts.
Which meant…
This call made no sense.
My unease deepened as I stared at the unknown number on my screen.
If it wasn't Mirelle, and it wasn't a debt collector, then who exactly was trying to reach me?
Probably a random caller.
That was the only explanation that entered my head and it sounded logical enough. After all, it wasn't impossible.
Whatever.
Scratching the back of my head, I locked the door to my room and slipped the keys into my pocket before heading towards the elevator.
It was then that my eyes took notice of something standing in the pathway over my destination.
Or rather, someone.
"..."
A tall young woman was leaning against her doorway, casually smoking a cig early in the morning. Her dyed pink hair fell past her shoulders, and she possessed a clear, smooth fair complexion with faint freckles below her brown eyes, and a sexy hourglass build.
She was dressed in casual clothing that contrasted sharply with her skin tone, accessorized with gold bangles on her wrists, the small heart-shaped choker necklace around her neck, and her subtle navel piercing.
My next-door neighbor, Sera Harper. 25 years old female.
As for her main occupation…
Well…
Step. Step.
Accompanied by hurried footsteps, someone brushed past me in a rush. It was an older guy in a hoodie, but I caught a glimpse of his face beneath it. Pale. That was the only word for it, and not the healthy kind either. It looked as though every last drop of blood inside his body had been thoroughly, enthusiastically drained by a vampire.
Another one of her clients, it seems.
This goddamn pervert.
I swear…
"Oi. Come back next time, okay!? I'll make sure to show you some love!"
The man visibly trembled before picking up his pace, almost breaking into a run as if fleeing from some unspeakable terror.
After giving him a light wave and a cheerful smile, her gaze shifted to me.
Those predatory eyes...
How scary.
"Why hello there, Morgan."
The cigarette perched at the corner of her lips bobbed as she spoke, closing the distance between us.
"How are you doing this morning? Hold on… is it just me, or do you look, like, extra, extra gloomy today? Didn't get enough sleep last night?"
"You kind of contributed to that."
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb. You know exactly what I'm talking about."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Of course it is. The walls here are thinner than you think. I doubt the entire apartment complex doesn't hear you when you're squeezing the soul out of your so-called clients. Tell me, I've been wondering for a while now. Do they pay extra to get drained that badly?"
"Mmm. What a tricky question." Her lips curled upward in a mischievous smile. "But if you're that interested, you're more than welcome to find out."
I let out a short chuckle.
"I'd love to. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I don't have the stamina to keep up with your energy."
Sera clearly did not like that answer. She puffed out her cheeks in an exaggerated pout.
"What a lousy excuse. You miss me every day and never stop by for a taste. Honestly, what's a girl gotta do before her hints finally get through that thick skull of yours?"
She leaned in just a little, close enough for me to catch the faint scent of smoke and something sweet beneath it.
"Try being subtle for once?" I said dryly.
She gasped, placing a hand over her chest as if deeply wounded.
"Cruel! Absolutely cruel! I'm practically throwing myself at you here!"
"Pretty sure throwing yourself involves less standing around and more… effort."
"Oh, keep talking like that and I might decide you're worth the trouble after all."
"That right there is exactly why I'm not getting involved."
"Suit yourself. But don't complain when you start looking pale too."
With that, she turned toward her door, glancing over her shoulder.
"Morning, neighbor. Try not to brood too hard without me. Okay?"
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Mm."
The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the hallway, fully awake and already regretting everything.
A sigh escaped.
Without further delay, I moved and entered the elevator.
† †
It took about ten minutes before I arrived at the convenience store.
The automatic doors slid open with a familiar chime, and the stale mix of brewed coffee and reheated food greeted me like an old friend. Or an old enemy. Hard to tell anymore.
"Yo. You're late."
Kevin was behind the counter, leaning against the register with a paper cup in hand. Early twenties, messy black haired, perpetually tired eyes, and a face that always looked like he had just woken up five minutes ago. The store uniform somehow managed to look even more wrinkled on him than it did on me.
I stepped behind the counter and settled my bag down.
"Morning to you too. And I'm only two minutes late."
"Two minutes is still late," he replied, lifting the cup. "I've been mentally clocked out since seven."
I glanced at the clock on the wall. "You're the one who begged me to cover part of your shift."
"Yeah, yeah. And I appreciate it. Deeply. Spiritually." He took a sip and winced. "This coffee tastes like regret."
"That's because it is."
Kevin snorted.
"Rough morning?"
"You could say that."
He gave me a knowing look. "Let me guess. Apartment stuff?"
"…Something like that."
Kevin didn't push. That was one of the few things I liked about him. He knew when to joke and when to shut up.
"Well, store's been dead. Couple of office workers, one angry old guy who complained about the lottery machine, and a kid who tried to pay with coins that looked like they survived three wars."
"Sounds peaceful."
"Suspiciously so. Which means the moment I leave, something's going to happen."
"Of course it is."
He finished his coffee, tossed the cup into the trash, and stretched. "Alright. Register's balanced, freezer's stocked, and the bathroom's… usable."
"That bad?"
"Don't ask."
Kevin grabbed his jacket and slung his backpack over one shoulder, already halfway to freedom. "Good luck surviving the next few hours. Try not to fall asleep standing up."
"No promises."
"Haha! Suit yourself."
Just like that, I was alone.
The hours that followed passed in a dull, uneventful blur.
Morning bled into afternoon, and afternoon dragged its feet into evening. Customers came and went in predictable waves, each one blending into the next until they were little more than faces and receipts in my memory.
Office workers stopped by first, still wearing lanyards and half-awake expressions. They grabbed canned coffee, sandwiches, and lottery tickets they would later regret buying. A few nodded at me out of habit. One tried to make small talk about the weather. I nodded back, rang them up, and wished them a good day like my words actually meant something.
Around noon, I restocked shelves, cleaned the counter. Checked my phone when the store was empty, only to find no missed calls and no new messages. The unknown number never rang again.
That should have been comforting.
However, it wasn't.
For some reason, I felt a little uneasy. It was probably nothing.
Should I be anxious because an unknown number called me? If that was the case, then anyone who have experienced the same situation would have been anxious too, is that not so?
Evening eventually crept in, the beginning of my official shift, announced by the darkening sky, the flickering glow of streetlights outside and the steady hum of traffic growing louder. Students wandered in after sunset, laughing about noisy, buying some instant noodles or so and cheap snacks before disappearing back into the night. A couple argued quietly near the drinks aisle. Someone spilled soda and apologized like it was the end of the world.
By the time ten rolled around, the store finally started to quiet down.
I was about leaving.
Then, without ceremony, the bell chimed again once again announcing the arrival of another customer.
Quickly, I wore my practiced smile and swung my head that way.
But...
That was the last thing I remember.