"The power from the Void is borrowed, so expect the Void to collect."
— Grand Marshal Rhys, Death Order.
...
"Damn it!" Cail cursed. He almost tripped over his cat. If he hadn't immediately steadied himself, he probably would've been eating a mouthful of mud right now.
"God, this stinks." Cail scrunched up his nose as he held the package. It smelled like sulfur and rotten eggs. "It better not be something illegal."
This package had been three weeks late, almost a full month. Then, boom! One night, it just randomly appeared at 7:00 PM outside his front gate.
It was raining heavily. His mom was still at the mahjong house, and he was soaked like a wet rat. He felt irritated beyond belief. With such an irresponsible mother, he might as well be an orphan.
With so many piled-up responsibilities in this house, this package was just another on his long list of irritations.
He'd only found the package because he went outside to search for his cat. Otherwise, he wouldn't have known it was delivered. By tomorrow, or maybe even just an hour later, this box would have probably been stolen by package thieves.
CRASH! BOOM!
His cat, Blackie, was spooked. It bolted inside the house, leaving behind muddy paw prints.
"Blackie!" This added to Cail's annoyance. Ugh, why was nothing going his way today?
He put the box on the floor without opening it. Instead, he grabbed a rug and wiped away all the muddy paw prints. Looking around, he called, "Blackie! Blackie, come here!"
He kept calling, but the cat didn't respond. This wasn't like Blackie. Following the muddy tracks, he found Blackie huddled in a corner near the television rack.
He bent down. "Blackie mimi, come here. I'll dry your fur, or Mom will probably lose it when she sees the house this messy."
Blackie avoided his hand. Cail didn't give up. "Blackie, you don't want to hear Mom screaming, right? It's noisy. Now come here, let me clean you."
For some reason, Blackie hated Cail's touch today. The moment his hand touched the cat's fur, Blackie unsheathed his claws and scratched him deeply.
"Ahhh! Crazy cat, what's wrong with you?!" Cail clutched his bleeding hand and stared in disbelief at the hissing Blackie. Even when he had taken Blackie home as a stray kitten, the cat had never been this aggressive before.
Blackie still looked defensive. It felt strange. He looked at Cail as if he were a stranger. With his back arched and pupils dilated, it was clear Blackie would scratch again if he came any closer.
Cail gave up. He stepped back and rushed to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and washed his wounds with soap.
"I probably need a shot after this." Cail suspected Blackie might have rabies, but he quickly shook his head. Such an ominous thought made him feel sick. He'd better take Blackie to the vet tomorrow and get an anti-rabies shot while he was at it.
The bleeding stopped. While it still hurt a bit, at least it didn't look so bad anymore. He grabbed the towel hanging nearby and dried his wet hair. Although he was tempted to use a fever as an excuse for absence, he really didn't want to be sick.
He looked at himself in the mirror but saw only a blur because his glasses fogged up from the cold. He took them off, rubbed them clean, then put them back on. He stared at his reflection and thought, *I look so pale a coffin might be the only thing missing.*
After changing his clothes, he walked back to the living room. He saw Blackie on top of the plate cabinet. The cat now seemed calm, showing none of the earlier aggression. He was just chilling there like a loaf, sleeping.
Cail muttered, "Heartless."
He returned to the package. Not wanting to dirty the furniture, he had placed the box on the floor.
He sat down on the cold tiles and examined the package.
It looked suspicious. It was wrapped with thick duct tape, and some parts of the box were even dented. Cail had no idea what kind of rough journey it had taken to get here.
If it had arrived three weeks ago, he would've been squealing with excitement. These were the limited-edition sneakers he had ordered. How could he not be excited?
But after weeks of waiting, he had already prepared himself for disappointment and was convinced it was a scam.
Looking at it, he felt a dark premonition. He touched the box and, thank God, it wasn't wet. He picked up the fruit knife lying on the coffee table and stabbed it through the box.
It was easy. Cail had expected resistance based on how tightly it was wrapped. The box inside was flimsy. After opening a large hole, he looked inside.
Though he had prepared himself mentally, the sight still hurt. He closed his eyes and screamed, "Ugh! My 7,000 nu!"
It was a scam.
The heavy weight of the package should've been a dead giveaway. What kind of shoes weigh like a brick? But Cail had clung to a sliver of hope, only to be left disappointed.
He put away the fruit knife, baffled. "It was already three weeks late. So this scam, why did they even bother to send me anything?"
Inside the package was a wooden box. It looked unassuming and boring. No design, just a coating of red varnish.
Cail was still trying to recover from the pain of losing his hard-earned money. He had saved up for a long time to buy those shoes. Now, it was all gone.
If he had known he was going to get scammed, he would've bought something useful with that 7,000 nu instead.
He took a deep breath. There was no point crying over spilled milk. Fortunately, it was his own money. Otherwise, his stingy but prodigal mother would probably lash out at him for being careless.
Still, maybe what was inside the wooden box held some kind of importance. Though honestly, he doubted it. A scam wouldn't be a scam if it was a good experience.
He took the wooden box out of the package and placed it on the ground.
It looked dull, to be honest. It was a delicate wooden box, but the lack of engravings or design made it look like a half-finished project by an amateur carpenter.
Cail touched the wooden box. It looked kind of old.
He tried to open it, but to no avail. He shook it, twisted it, and turned it. No mechanism. Just bare old wood. What was going on?