What Exactly did I Sign Up for?

Morning arrived, but sleep never came for Mykal. He lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, his mind tangled in an unshakable web of thoughts. His body felt heavy, exhaustion pressing down on him, yet his nerves buzzed with an unnatural energy.

Excitement? Anxiety? Fear? He couldn't tell.

The phone sat on the table beside him, silent and unassuming. The device that defied logic. The object that refused to leave him. The thing that had brought Kyne to his doorstep.

Speaking of Kyne…

A harsh, rattling cough broke the quiet. Mykal immediately sat up.

He turned toward the bed—Kyne was curled in on himself, arms gripping his stomach. His body trembled, and every cough seemed to scrape out what little life he had left.

"Hey—Kyne!" Mykal rushed over, shaking him slightly.

Kyne groaned, forcing one eye open. His skin looked even paler than last night, and his lips were dry and cracked. Sweat clung to his forehead, yet his fingers felt ice-cold when Mykal grabbed his wrist.

"Shit, man, you look terrible."

Kyne exhaled weakly, forcing a smirk. "You sure know how to make a guy feel better."

"I'm serious. Maybe we should go to the hospital."

Kyne chuckled, though it quickly turned into another violent coughing fit. "What's a doctor gonna do, Mykal? Prescribe me some cough syrup? I have two days left—what do you expect them to fix?"

Mykal clenched his jaw. He hated this.

Kyne leaned back against the pillow, his breathing uneven. "Forget about me for a second. Did you mess with the phone?"

Mykal hesitated, then reached for the device. No charger, no ports, yet it still worked. No signal, no Wi-Fi, yet it could pull up anything.

His fingers hovered over the screen. What should I even search for?

Then he remembered what Kyne said last night.

Anything.

Taking a breath, he tapped the browser and typed:

"Fire Sword."

The screen flickered. For a split second, Mykal thought the phone had frozen—but then, the screen deepened, darkened, turning into an abyss-like void.

What the hell—

A flickering shape emerged from the screen, like something pressing through a thin sheet of liquid. Mykal's breath hitched as his hand instinctively reached forward. His fingers sank into the cold, shifting surface—

And then—

He felt weight.

Something solid, something warm.

Mykal's eyes widened as he gripped the object and pulled.

A sword. A literal sword. Its blade glowed with streaks of ember-like energy, as if it had just been pulled from a forge. The heat radiated against his skin, but it didn't burn.

He was holding fire.

"...Holy sh*t."

From the bed, Kyne managed a weak chuckle. "Told you."

Mykal turned the sword in his hand, feeling its weight, the eerie hum of power it gave off. This isn't just a trick. This is real.

A new thought settled into his mind—one that made his stomach turn.

If I can pull out a sword… What else can I bring into this world?

Mykal watched in awe as the fire sword slowly flickered out of existence, its embers fading into nothingness. It was like watching a mirage dissolve, like it had never been there in the first place. His fingers twitched, still feeling the lingering warmth of the weapon that had just vanished from his grip.

Kyne let out a wheezing chuckle from the bed, followed by another rough cough. "See? The phone takes back whatever it gives. Once it decides you don't need it anymore, poof—it's gone."

Mykal sat back on the couch, staring at his empty hands. "That's insane."

"Yeah, but useful. That's why I said if you ever pull out money, spend it fast. Buy whatever you need, get the hell out of the store, and never look back. The phone doesn't like its gifts sitting around for too long."

Mykal frowned. "Wait… so what happens if I'm holding money and it disappears? Would people see it just vanish?"

Kyne smirked weakly. "That's the fun part—it doesn't just disappear in front of people. It rewrites reality so it never existed in the first place. If you buy something, the cashier won't remember you paying. If you hand someone cash, they won't even realize they ever held it."

A shiver ran down Mykal's spine. "That's… creepy as hell."

Kyne nodded, his smile fading. "Yeah. This phone doesn't just let you bend reality. It controls it. You're just a user—it's the one making the rules."

The room fell into a tense silence. Mykal looked at the phone again, the black mirror reflecting his uneasy expression. It sat there, innocent-looking yet terrifying in its potential.

What exactly did I sign up for?

Kyne let out a slow, shaky breath, his body sinking deeper into the bed. His face had lost even more color, his skin pale and clammy. Dark circles weighed under his eyes, and his breath came out in uneven, shallow gasps.

Mykal watched him with a growing unease. "Are you okay?"

Kyne let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Do I look okay?" He coughed again, this time harder, his entire body shaking from the effort. A faint smear of blood stained his hand as he wiped his lips, but he ignored it like it was nothing.

Mykal hesitated. "Do you… do you want me to take you to a hospital?"

Kyne shook his head immediately. "It won't matter. They won't find anything wrong with me. The phone dictates my lifespan, not my body. Whether I get shot, stabbed, poisoned, or just drop dead in my sleep—once it hits zero, it's over. No escaping it."

There was something terrifying about the way he said it, like he had already accepted his death.

A heavy silence settled between them before Mykal finally spoke. "You said people were after you before… who were they?"

Kyne exhaled through his nose, his gaze distant. For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, finally, he spoke.

"My family was murdered because of this phone."

Mykal stiffened.

Kyne continued, his voice hollow. "I was stupid when I first got it. I thought I could have everything—money, power, anything I wanted. I was reckless. I didn't realize how dangerous it was to have something like this until it was too late."

He swallowed, his fingers twitching as if remembering something painful.

"There was a gang. A powerful one. I don't even know their real name—people just called them the Hollow Fangs. I made the mistake of pulling out too much money one day. A stupid flex, throwing cash around like an idiot. Someone took notice. Next thing I knew, people were following me."

Mykal stayed quiet, listening.

"At first, I thought they just wanted to rob me. But then they started asking questions. 'Where's your supply? Who's backing you?' They thought I was working for some big underground syndicate. There was no way a random kid like me could just summon money from nowhere, right?"

He laughed bitterly.

"They tortured me for days, trying to get me to talk. But what could I even say? That I had a magic phone? That it wasn't coming from some cartel or secret organization?"

Mykal felt a chill run down his spine. "How did you get out?"

Kyne's smile was grim. "My parents."

He clenched his fists, his breathing growing heavier. "They paid the price for my mistake. The Hollow Fangs thought I was lying, so they used my family to make me talk. But I had nothing to give them. In the end… they killed them anyway."

Mykal felt his stomach drop.

"I ran. I ran and never looked back. But even after all these years, I know they're still out there. Probably still looking for me, thinking I have some big connection. And now? It doesn't even matter. I only have a few days left anyway."

The weight of his words hung in the air.

For the first time since meeting Kyne, Mykal saw him for what he really was. Not just some guy cursed with the same phone—but a dead man walking. Someone who had already lost everything and was just waiting for the inevitable.

And for the first time, Mykal realized—this could be his future too.