100,000. Not bad.

100,000 dollars was not the price I set by the way. The minimum price when giving a service is equal to the wealth - or EXP - I would receive. Although, wealth rewarded is a tentative value that could fluctuate based on who accepts the contract and various circumstances.

Eumalia was unique in that it managed to keep its dollar and the system’s wealth at a one-to-one ratio.

Simply put, I was worth my weight in organs and whatever else was marketable. The value of organs had depreciated as high–level healers emerged and with the growing organ market. But, my organs were still worth more than $100,000. The issue was I wasn’t selling them; it was only the opportunity.

Basically, I was a walking carnival game.

I could feel my heart thud as I walked to the bus stop. I constantly checked my surroundings and those around me throughout my way home. Perhaps it was only temporary adrenaline, but I felt alive.

However, nothing happened.

Not only on the way home, but the remainder of the night, the next day at school, and the following days. I even went to the effort of walking down dark alleys at night. Nothing.

Originally, my heart was throbbing when talking with Candy at school, and if she would notice; but it dawned on me it wasn’t common to check the contracts of someone you already know. Then, it also occurred to me that my heart was likely beating faster due to her presently wearing a lifeguard outfit.

I stopped going to class after that, favoring aimless wandering.

The original rush wore off not long after twenty-four hours of having made the decision. Yet, it still felt like someone was watching me. A bit of paranoia remained. However, as the days passed by even the bit left became more muted.

It wasn’t some rush or money I wanted anyway.

It seems this isn’t it either. Well, it was worth a shot.

I poured Ch**ios into some leftover tupperware. The box ran empty. I poured the remainder of the milk and threw the empty carton into the fridge.

Check balance

[Current Balance: 1.00 Eumalian dollar]

At least it’s with ol’ reliable. Best breakfast, not sponsored.

I sighed and ate my breakfast.

I called it breakfast, but the sun was already well past its zenith. To me, breakfast is decided by how many meals are left in a day. If you have three meals left, and it is your first meal, then that’s breakfast.

Are night shift workers incapable of eating breakfast? Do they start their day with dinner and end it at breakfast? Or perhaps it's the duration after waking up that’s important to you over time of day. But if I call my first meal dinner given I somehow waited that long, then what do I call my other two meals?

If you’re only having two meals, then fine. You can call it lunch or breakfast first - I don’t care -, as long as the final meal is called dinner.

But what do you call it if you’re only planning to have one meal?

Well, whatever.

I made my way towards the outskirts of the city today.

The bus ride was long, but the trip was all one route. The buildings shrank and lost prestige as the trip went on, and then there was an abrupt shift. The buildings bordering the stone city walls grew in stories or were opulent mansions. For good reason too.

At the end of the road, past the historic iron gate of the city, was a sea of clouds below.

I made my way to a nearby souvenir shop.

Besides the luxurious buildings bordering the wall, refurbished buildings that otherwise looked to be centuries old made up the landscape. They were a blend of Renaissance and modern. The souvenir shop was one such humble building.

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I didn’t waste time poking around and made a straight line to the counter. There, I purchased a coin with a man’s face etched into it. The former one-cent coin. Its price? A dollar…

It was only a replica of course. Cash was an archaic concept. Not long after the system was introduced, Eumalia was the first to leave cash behind. That type of quick adaptation is what led to this country growing where it is today.

I finalized my purchase and, just for the sake of it, I checked my balance.

[Current balance: 0]

Well, just me and you now. I nodded at the head on the coin.

I moseyed down the street parallel to the city wall as the sun began to set. I passed by high rises and gated mansions until I found an old-fashioned apartment building. It was probably the oldest of the buildings on this side of the street.

It had an exterior staircase and ladder at the top that led to the roof.

I passed a singing canary as I made my way up. Even if the high rises dwarfed it, the height of this building became more apparent with each step.

Never doing that again. I was winded.

Compared to the busy streets below, which never truly took a rest, the rooftop was peaceful. I could still hear the motors and horns of the cars below but up here I was alone. Yet, even now it felt like someone was watching me.

Even if the paranoia was muted, it was still present. Potentially, those in the neighboring buildings could see me, however I couldn’t pinpoint anything.

It’s not like it matters anyway. I shrugged and turned back to the horizon.

I was well past the height of the ancient, culture-purposed city walls. With my vantage came an unhindered view beyond the city. In the distance, I could see a few of the orbiting islands.

Shades of purples and reds painted the clouds below. Visible through the cracks in the cloud bed, a sea as endless as the horizon lay calmly.

I took the coin from my pocket and flipped it.

“Heads, huh?”

I clutched it and threw it to the horizon.

I wish for a cute girlfriend to appear.

Nothing. Perhaps I had to wait for the coin to land in the water for the wish to come true. I wasn’t planning to stay around and find out, though.

I backed up several steps and sprinted towards the edge of the building, following the coin. I jumped off head first, taking on a diver’s position.

It was nothing personal of a decision.

Depending on your definition and despite how it may look, I was not suicidal.

I think I could live a happy life. Get a girlfriend, fall madly in love, and raise children together. I could find a job I may not love, but I would feel satisfied at the end of a long day and feel joy knowing it's for my family.

I don’t doubt I am capable of that, and I don’t doubt I would be very happy.

There was one issue, though. I loved shounen protagonists.

Ever since middle school, there was one goal I had. One that took almost all my time. I wanted something I loved.

I wanted to be like my heroes. Not in their success, but in their ability to have their dream. I didn’t want something fun, but something I would earnestly desire to dedicate all my time to.

So, I tried. I qualified for and enrolled in the top university and took almost every major. I worked jobs from research to investment, from programming to public relations. I tried everything I could think of. While I sometimes found the effort and work satisfying, the moment I tried to have any love for them they all made my skin crawl.

Over the course of the decade, I lost any realistic hope I could find something. I was just a different type of person. People are different, and I’m more of a people-oriented person. There's nothing wrong with that. Even so, I couldn’t give up on the one goal I’ve had. The one thing I’ve tried for. It was too sad a thought.

Then I decided, I would give myself until my money ran out to find something.

And here I was, projecting myself to the sunset.

But someone grabbed onto my heel, ruining my exposé and build-up.

“Wait!” A masculine voice shouted.

When did someone get behind me? Before I could contemplate, gravity and my momentum swung me into the brick wall.

I braced myself with my hands, then arms, and managed to avoid serious injury. That result was mostly due to my savior’s counterbalancing efforts though.

They pulled me back up with ease and dragged me away from the edge.

Matching the masculine voice was a well-built adult male. In other words, he wasn’t the girlfriend I wished for.

He does look familiar…

He grabbed both of my shoulders and locked eyes with me. “You shouldn’t kill yourself.”

Definitely not the most convincing pep talk. But I was more preoccupied studying his face over his words anyways.

“It would be a waste…” he continued.

Ah, that’s it! I flashed back to the second man who beat up the wheelchair-bound human punching bag.

“Of good money.”

Ding!

[Feror Stanton has accepted your contract: Murder legalized. 100,000 Eumalian dollars received. Attempt to murder me for 1 hour, pending 100,000 wealth]