It was a cold night. James's stomach growled, and his body trembled.
It wasn't that he wanted to ignore those instinctive signals—it's just… he had no way to deal with them.
Even without checking his wallet, James knew exactly what was left in there: nothing.
His last bit of money had gone to pay the taxi fare to an interview. He had hoped the interviewer might at least give him travel expenses as an advance on his wages.
But forget an advance—James was given barely a single minute before being coldly dismissed.
"Next!" said the interviewer as he tore James's résumé right in front of him.
Remembering that still made James grit his teeth.
"Arrogant bastard. As if he's really that needed."
Then James realized how stupid that thought was. He did need the man—to give him a job.
He'd been unemployed for three months, and his savings were nearly gone.
When he grabbed his phone, hoping doomscrolling might distract him from the gnawing hunger, James noticed a flood of messages and missed calls.
He ignored them.
They were probably from his parents. Asking whether he got the job or not.
And what if he hadn't?
His parents had already said they wouldn't give him another cent if he failed again.
Even if it meant James would have to sleep on the streets and end up homeless.
"If you don't care, then why bother asking?"
James actually knew the answer. It wasn't concern—it was punishment. Unlike his obedient siblings, James was the one who had "rebelled."
He hadn't taken up medical school as his father urged. He had skipped out on the extra tutoring his mother arranged.
Instead, James chased after something "pointless": music.
He formed a band, wrote songs, streamed their concerts on social media.
The ad revenue made him cocky. He mocked his parents' belief that being a musician was a dead-end profession with no future.
Then, after graduating high school, he left home to try his luck as a professional.
And soon enough, James realized reality wasn't as inspiring as motivational films.
Their recordings failed to attract more than a hundred fans, so the studio that had backed them pulled out.
Listeners began calling their music boring and outdated.
Then something worse happened: internal conflict.
One member took a full-time job, practice hours got cut, and their performances kept falling flat.
Their already small fanbase dwindled further, and the band members pointed fingers at one another.
The band broke up badly. James lost not only the future he had dreamed of but also the friends he thought would be with him for life.
James opened MeTube and looked at his account. During unemployment, he had tried uploading his own solo songs online.
But…
[10 views] [3 likes] [1 dislike]
[View comments (5)]
Soy Sauce Donut: The voice is okay, but man, the arrangement…
Sleeping Cat: I think my drunken rambling would sound better than whatever this guy's playing.
Super Steel: Bro, stop making music. Please—for the sake of the world's sanity.
"What do these amateur assholes even know?"
Sure, James didn't really understand arrangement, but it couldn't be that bad, right?
"Besides, the true essence of music is in the lyrics. That's where the message is delivered."
Right after replying to each comment with insults and middle-finger emojis, James closed the cursed app and exhaled deeply.
"What the hell am I even doing?"
He had rent to pay, hunger gnawing at him, and here he was arguing with strangers online.
"Truly childish."
James stood up. There was no point waiting at the bus stop. It was late; no buses would come.
And even if one did, he didn't have money for the fare.
At home, there was leftover pizza from the morning. Maybe a bit stale, but better to risk food poisoning than suffer hunger any longer.
Just imagining the souring cheese topping made James's mouth water, and he quickened his pace.
But as his foot touched the roadway—
A siren blared from the left. A black sports car tore past, nearly as fast as a train.
James didn't even have time to scream.
Pain embraced him together with eternal darkness.