Hell of a game

'Like fucking hell!'

The small room reeked of despair, a faint mustiness in the air from too many days with the windows shut.

Light seeped through the blinds, painting pale lines on the peeling wallpaper.

A single bulb, hanging limply from the ceiling, flickered every so often like it too was tired of existing.

Sam sat on the edge of his sagging mattress, hands clasped between his knees. His gaze fixed on the scuffed floor tiles, though his mind was far away.

'What other option is left to try? Fraud? Illegal Hacking?' he ran a hand through his dark brown hair.

A year ago, he was the guy people envied. Top of his class in college, praised at work for his brilliance.

The future was supposed to be bright.

But somehow, life had dragged him into this pit, and now it felt like the walls were caving in.

His workplace declared bankruptcy six months ago. He hadn't seen it coming. No severance, just an apologetic letter and an assurance that "these decisions were purely financial."

His savings had vanished like smoke—first on rent, then his sister's hospital bills. Each day she stayed in that bed was a needle in his soul.

She was diagnosed of Kidney infection at an early age.

Sam had applied for every job he could find. He'd spent hours crafting the perfect CV, adjusting every word to match the job descriptions.

And what did he get for his effort? Rejections.

Some said he was overqualified, others claimed he wasn't the right fit.

'Online bets could have been a good option, but that requires money as well...'

Suddenly his phone buzzed. He didn't even glance at it, expecting another spam message about unpaid debts. But something about this notification tugged at him, so he picked it up. His brown eyes scanned through his screen.

"Dear Mr. Samuel Thompson, we regret to inform you that your application has been declined. Unfortunately, you do not meet the qualifications required for this position."

'Not surprised. I'm just too good for all the jobs available on earth. Might have to apply for job in other planets next time.' He let out a mocking laugh.

He dropped his phone and dragged himself to the kitchen to have a drink. Opening the refrigerator door, he was greeted by a nearly empty bottle of wine.

He tipped the bottle over a glass, watching as a few precious drops trickled out. Barely a gulp.

He downed it in one go, enjoying the cheap alcohol as if it were some luxury vintage.

As he walked back to where he was sitting earlier, the shrill ring of his phone broke the silence. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, but the name flashing on the screen made him pause: Claire.

He picked up. "Hey."

"Hi, Sam," her voice was soft, almost hesitant. "How are you? Did you hear back from that job?"

He smiled before replying. "Yeah. They said I wasn't qualified."

"Oh… I see." She paused, and Sam sensed the shift in her tone before she even spoke again. "Look, Sam, I've been thinking…"

Here it comes.

"You know how things have been for you lately," she continued, "and I've been feeling like... maybe I'm just another burden for you right now. You don't need that, Sam. You need space to figure things out."

Sam's breath hitched. "Uhmm, what are you talking about?"

"Sam…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I just think we're not working anymore."

Before he could respond, a male voice echoed faintly through the line. "Babe, we need to go."

'She's seeing another man already?..Hmm, women.'

"I see you've already found my replacement. That's nice. I could wish you the best, but... never mind," he replied coldly.

"Huh? No one. I'm... not.... It's not what you think," she stammered, but the damage was done.

Before she could say another word, he replied, "Bye." And cut the phone.

The woman he'd thought would stand by him, even in his darkest hours, had left. And for what? For someone else who didn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders?

Sam dropped the phone onto the counter once again and leaned against it, eyes closed.

Claire had been his girlfriend for a year, but ever since his business went bankrupt, she had grown distant. Today, she delivered the final blow.

"Whatever you do in life, have money, and all other things shall be added unto it." He scoffed at how absurd the statement sounded, yet he couldn't deny its truth.

A knock at the door pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.

Frowning, he straightened up. He wasn't expecting anyone. Probably a mistake.

Still, he shuffled to the door, his bare feet dragging across the floor.

He opened it cautiously, half-expecting an apologetic neighbor or a delivery meant for someone else.

But there was no one. Just a large box with numerous blue and white patterns sitting on the doorstep.

Sam glanced up and down the hallway, but it was empty. He leaned down, inspecting the box. His name was scrawled across the top in neat handwriting.

'What the hell is this?'

He brought the box inside and set it on the table. Carefully, he tore the tape and opened it. His eyes widened as he took in the contents: a sleek black console with the words "Treasure Hunt" written on the side.

There was no instruction manual, no receipt. Just a tagline printed on a glossy card: "The fastest way to make money."

Sam frowned, suspicion creeping in. 'This has to be a scam. Or maybe someone's idea of a joke.'

He walked to the window, peering out to see if anyone was watching. But the street below was empty, save for a stray cat slinking along the curb.

He knew people these days did all sorts of funny things and pranks just to create content for social media. He wasn't about to become the top trend of the week.

Despite himself, curiosity began to take hold. What harm could it do? He had nothing to lose—no money, no dignity, no hope. Maybe this was the universe throwing him a bone.

He plugged the console into his old, dusty TV.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a single menu: "Welcome, Player. Enter your world and change your fate. But beware: victory is not what it seems."

'What does that even mean?'

Suddenly it went blank and another menu followed:

"Trials."

Every other option was locked, grayed out. He selected "Trials" with the controller.

The screen displayed his name in bold letters. "Welcome, Samuel Thompson. Are you ready for the games?"

Sam stared at the screen, a chill running down his spine.

'How does it know my name?'

He gripped the controller tighter, his pulse quickening. Maybe this was it. His last chance. His ticket out of the abyss.

Or maybe not.

But he was desperate enough to try anything that could make him money, whether legal or illegal.

He took a deep breath. "Let's see what you've got."