I woke up with a splitting headache. My fingers curled into the mattress beneath me as I groaned, my eyes fluttering open to meet the familiar sight of the ceiling above. The light I forgot to turn off last night flickered weakly. Seems like I'll have to buy a new one, I thought, staring absentmindedly at the bulb. Last night, I had poured all my stress into alcohol, drinking until I was completely hammered. But now that I was sober, reality came crashing down.
I hadn't paid the electric bill yet, and soon my power would be cut off.
I hadn't paid my rent either.
I was barely eating properly. The fridge was almost empty, and soon crickets would be croaking inside.
And the most stressful part… I didn't have a job.
Ever since I got fired, finding a new one had been difficult. I sighed, the weight of the world pressing down on me. If only I could go back to the good old days—being spoon-fed by my mother, free from everything. I sank deeper into my bed, my sanctuary. Back then, I was a loser. An outcast. Someone no one wanted to be friends with. The constant mocking and bullying affected me so badly that I spiraled into self-deprecating and depressive behavior.
But I never let it show. I couldn't worry the people important to me—especially my mother and grandmother. I graduated from college full of hope, determined to start anew. But no matter how much I tried to convince myself I was a new person, things never really changed. I squeezed my eyes shut, suppressing the hot tears threatening to slide down my cheeks. I couldn't even maintain a conversation, opening my mouth always resulted in being mocked during my teenage years, and I grew to be terrified of speaking, especially in front of a lot of people. Pitiful.
When powers first emerged five years ago, I was one of the many who believed I'd gain abilities and become a superhero. And even if I couldn't be a hero, I thought, at least I'd have powers.
But I got nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I remained an ordinary human.
What? Even fate wants to mock me?
I let out a small chuckle at my own thoughts, finding myself ridiculous—accusing fate of bullying me.
I reached for my phone, charging on the bedside table, and absentmindedly scrolled through my socials, checking for new messages and occasionally doom scrolling every few minutes. After twenty minutes, I finally decided to get up. My body creaked with each movement as I pushed myself upright, a groan escaping my lips.
My joints felt stiff, probably because I'd spent the last week rotting in bed.
I stretched my limbs, then sighed. I caught sight of my reflection in the phone screen and gave myself a reassuring smile.
I'll find a job today.
I tried my best to sound confident.
He lingered under the shower longer than necessary, letting the lukewarm water run over his head as if it could wash away the weight pressing down on him. It didn't, but at least it dulled the edge. By the time he finally stepped out, the mirror was fogged, hiding his reflection.
He dried off slowly, then reached for his favorite set of clothes. They weren't anything special—just a worn shirt and a pair of jeans—but they were comfortable, familiar. Safe. He slipped them on, smoothing out the wrinkles as if that alone could make him look more put together than he felt.
After a brief pause, he glanced at himself in the mirror.
"…Yeah," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn't sure what he was agreeing with.
Grabbing his phone and whatever remained of his resolve, he headed for the door. The hesitation only lasted a second before he pushed it open and stepped out.
Today, he told himself, he'd find a job.
With that fragile determination in mind, he set out—once again—on the hunt.
The streets weren't particularly busy, but they weren't empty either. People moved with purpose—some in suits, others in uniforms, a few with subtle, unnatural glints in their eyes that marked them as powered. I kept my head down as I walked, hands in my pockets, doing my best to blend into the background. A few "We're Hiring" signs caught my attention along the way. But I ignored most of them. Too crowded. Too competitive. Too many chances to mess up a simple conversation, and it was too overwhelming.
I walked past a convenience store.
A restaurant.
A small office building.
Then—I stopped.
A café sat quietly at the corner of the street, almost like it had been forgotten. Warm light spilled softly through its windows, but inside… there were barely any customers. One person sat by the window, unmoving, a cup of coffee in front of them that looked like it hadn't been touched. Another sat near the back, hood pulled low, idly stirring their drink long after it should've gone cold.
I didn't notice anything strange about the place.
Wow… a small business. Probably new. Perfect, I thought.
Hopefully they're hiring.
And hopefully I don't mess this up.
After a brief moment of hesitation, I pushed the door open.
A soft chime rang.
"Welcome."
The voice came from behind the counter, I swallowed to ease my nervousness.
I looked up.
A girl with neon green hair stood there, wiping down a cup with slow, deliberate movements. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were sharp—too sharp, like she was studying me instead of greeting me. Geez, at least make it less obvious that im not welcome.
"Uh…" I shifted slightly. "Hi." Oh my god. I'm going to mess this up.
She didn't respond.
Just watched.
The silence stretched, and I wanted to dig a hole and lie inside it.
"…Are you open?" I asked, immediately regretting the question. Her gaze flicked to the empty tables. Then back to me.
"…Obviously," she said.
"Right. Yeah. That was a dumb question."
I rubbed the back of my neck, forcing a small laugh that died almost immediately. I glanced around again. The customer by the window hadn't moved. The one at the back had stopped stirring. At some point, both of them were looking at me. I swallowed. This is so embarrassing.
"…Um," I started, trying again. "Are you guys hiring?"
That obviously did something.
The girl behind the counter stopped wiping the cup.