As he passed through the bank's sliding glass doors, the first thing Nihil noticed was the sensation of crossing a thin membrane. It felt as if he had been spat into another reality, because when he looked back—where the large windows should have allowed him to see outside—there was only… darkness.
Though the experience left him momentarily stunned, when he looked forward, what he found instead was a young woman standing behind a counter. Her short white hair contrasted sharply with her dark complexion.What caught his attention the most, however, was the enormous wind-up key protruding from her back and, on her chest, a red badge with the inscription "Reception," and beneath it, a number: 7010.
-Welcome. What is the purpose of your visit to the bank?
-Good afternoon. I would like to apply for a loan.
-Understood.
The exchange felt almost automatic on the employee's part. While Nihil found it slightly unsettling at first, he appreciated how direct it was, with no room for misunderstandings.
She nodded in response, her face not moving in the slightest, and her fingers rested on a touch panel beside her. After a brief sequence of inputs, a nearby printer spat out a ticket with a mechanical buzz.
-Here you go. Your number is 19660107. Please wait until your number appears on the screen and proceed to the cubicle indicated.
She said this while extending the paper so Nihil could take it.
-Thank you very much.
His gratitude vanished into the void, as the receptionist was no longer paying him any attention. Her bored expression remained intact, as if Nihil had never been there at all.
Soulless efficiency, he thought, feeling a slight sense of calm—though that was exactly the only thing he could imagine finding in a place like this.
As he moved from reception into the interior of the bank proper, the main lobby sank kilometers downward, with floors disappearing deep into the earth.
The air was cold and recirculated. Nihil could feel desperation concentrated in the atmosphere, and if he had nostrils, he almost could have sworn the smell was paper and printer ink.
A low murmur—made up of anxious whispers, nervous coughing, and the muffled sobbing of someone in a corner—formed the background noise of the place.
Nihil raised his gaze. Seven giant screens, hanging like digital altars, displayed an endless list of numbers and cubicles. And there, amid the constant flow, was his own:
19660107 – Cubicle 13.
'That fast? This really is efficient,' he thought, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.
-To hell with it. Might as well get it over with.
Cubicle 13 was a steel cell on the outside, while inside it was a minimalist office. Another employee sat within—identical to the first in every detail: white hair, dark skin, the same perpetually bored expression, except for her badge.
This one read "Customer Service," and beneath it was the number 2102.
It was as if the bank had found the perfect template and cloned it for every human interaction.
Nihil hurried to take a seat in front of the desk, on a chair just as minimalist.
-Good afternoon.
The employee spoke with the same monotone, almost robotic tone as her twin at reception.
-Just to confirm, you are here to apply for a loan, correct?
-That's correct.
Nihil answered with a calm he didn't even realize he possessed.
-Very well. In that case, I will need you to provide your identification and the documents for the properties or assets you intend to leave as collateral for—
-I'm sorry.
He interrupted her, the words coming out like a sigh.
-I don't have any of those things.
The employee looked at him, and for the first time, something resembling a flicker of understanding—or perhaps merely pattern recognition—crossed her face. She smiled.
-I see. Then I can assume you are here for a Lifetime Contract, correct?
Even if he pretended ignorance, Nihil knew perfectly well what she meant. He had known it since the moment he set foot in the city. Still, the formality of the situation demanded the question.
-…Could you please explain what that entails?
-A Lifetime Contract is an agreement by which you receive immediate approval for a loan. In exchange, the guarantee of payment the bank receives is your soul.
She spoke without a trace of emotion, as if she were reading the ingredients of a product.
Knowing it beforehand didn't make things any easier, but somehow Nihil felt calm hearing the words spoken in such a bureaucratic tone—cold and sterile.
Instead of anxiety or anguish, all that remained was… resignation? Fatigue? Nothing?Perhaps it was a mixture of all of the above.
-…Could you provide more details, please?
Nihil articulated his response calmly, already premeditated. Even if it didn't seem like it, during the trip to HellTown he had imagined this situation hundreds of times.
-With pleasure.
She nodded, as if he had asked about the features of a savings account.
-Look, this is an option in which you are accepted immediately. A bank account is opened for you, and you are issued a credit card with a pre-approved limit.
She continued explaining terms and conditions, symbolic interest rates—'after all, what interest could there be beyond a soul?' Nihil thought.
She spoke as if this were any mundane procedure, and perhaps, for her, it was.
This was daily bread in the depths of HellTown.
-Do you have any other questions I can assist you with?-No, none. Thank you very much for clarifying the details.
Nihil was lying. He had a thousand questions, but he chose to ignore every single one of them.
-Okay. Then I will need you to provide your ID, sign the following contract, and write your name on this sheet.
Nihil handed over his identification. The employee then pulled a thick stack of paper from a drawer—the contract was easily over a hundred pages long, printed in tiny, densely packed text.
Nihil didn't read it. He simply searched for the dotted line at the end, where the word "SIGNATURE" seemed to scream, and he signed.
-Here you go. It's signed.
-Excellent. Now I just need you to write your name on the following sheet.
She snapped her fingers, and in front of Nihil—right in the air itself—an ancient-looking parchment appeared, floating above the desk.
Beside it, a black-silver pen hovered, waiting.
A spell, of course. For a contract of this nature, ordinary ink wouldn't suffice.
-Okay.
Nihil said it with confidence—or perhaps with… apathy. Even he wasn't sure.
'I'm about to lose everything I have… heh, for a moment I forgot I have nothing,' he thought, and wrote: NIHIL.
The instant he lifted the pen, his name on the parchment glowed with a dark sheen and then vanished, absorbed into the paper. A sharp stab—like an electric lash at the center of his consciousness—shot through him. It lasted only a microsecond, but it was unmistakable.
Something had… anchored itself.
-Very well. With this, all the paperwork is complete. I will now provide you with your credit card, your account number, and a copy of the signed contract.
She slid a sleek black plastic card, a sheet with an account number, and a copy of the contract (slightly warmer to the touch than the rest) across the desk.
-If you have any other questions, I will be happy to answer them. Otherwise, that will be all on my end.-No, thank you. That will be all.
Nihil murmured as he gathered the items. They were incredibly light, considering the weight they represented.
-Have an excellent day.
-Thank you.
Just like her twin at the entrance, she ignored his final word.
She pressed a button on her touch panel, and a green light turned on above the cubicle door—the signal for him to leave, to make way for the next applicant for their own chains.
Nihil stepped back into the lobby, the contract crumpled in his hand, the black card burning in his pocket.
'Well… that was faster than I expected' he reflected, as a sigh he didn't need slipped out like a whistle between his teeth.
-It was an exhausting day, but at least it wasn't as bad as it looked like it would be.
The lie was so automatic that Nihil almost believed it.
As he left the bank, Nihil didn't even bother looking back. He simply walked away.
First, he needed to find somewhere to sleep. Then food—the hunger was an urgent demand that persisted despite everything.
But before anything else, he needed to reconnect his only link to the world. He reached into his pocket for his phone—a useless brick without data—and using the new, ominous black card, he purchased the cheapest data plan he could find.
The process was quick, with no questions asked. The bank didn't just give the impression of being efficient—it truly was.
With the phone alive again in his hand, feeling the vibration of accumulated notifications—almost certainly Laplace—Nihil walked down the street, crossing the avenue.
A flickering neon sign winked at him:
"DOUBLÉ TAP"
Below it, a more modest sign announced:
"Staff Wanted."
Behind the glass, half-empty shelves could be seen, along with the silhouette of someone behind a counter.
Nihil looked at the burrito he still hadn't bought, felt the emptiness in his stomach, and the weight of the black card in his pocket.
'I guess I'll go take a look,' he thought, and his feet began moving toward the store