Zora Town never lets you catch your breath. Your eyes are constantly darting from one glowing screen to another, and it is dangerously easy to completely lose track of your money. If you ever think for a second that modernization is going to slow down, this place will straight-up laugh in your face.
***
Mike walked down the pavement, feeling like an absolute outsider. Everyone else seemed to be moving to some fast-paced, invisible beat. One particular storefront caught his eye—a high-end place with private security guards stationed at the entrance and neon signs buzzing everywhere. He stood there thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he bought something inside, he would finally fit in. Before he could talk himself out of it, a massive luxury pickup truck roared up to the curb and jerked to a halt right in the middle of the driveway, completely blocking traffic. Mike stared at it, clueless. He had no idea what kind of truck it was, though judging by the looks from passersby, he probably should have.
Just then, an elderly lady in a small hatchback pulled up right next to him and rolled down her window. "Young man, can you move your truck out of the way?" she called out, her voice dripping with authority, as if Mike were her personal parking valet. Mike looked through the driver-side window and noticed the keys were still hanging in the ignition. The truck looked like the kind of ridiculously oversized vehicle an eccentric dad would drive. The lady watched him hesitate. "Your father parked it completely wrong. Go on, move it."
Annoyed but wanting to clear the traffic, Mike hoisted himself into the cab anyway. He managed to fire up the engine, straighten it out into a proper parking bay, and then finally headed inside the shop. The interior felt like stepping into a high-tech fever dream, where antique grandfather clocks and cutting-edge digital gadgets were all styled together. Mike wandered through the aisles, eyeing the sleek glass shelves and already imagining his bank account crying.
He was just about to turn around and walk out when a strange little object caught his eye. It was a uniquely shaped gadget that didn't seem to fit in with any of the luxury tech around it. As Mike leaned in, getting genuinely curious, a man materialized right beside him. The guy was wearing a tailored suit, his hair perfectly slicked back. He looked almost too polished to be real.
"Welcome! Are you looking for something specific today?" the man asked, his voice incredibly smooth.
Mike pointed at the object on the pedestal. "How much does this one run?"
The man didn't even blink. "That one is one hundred and thirty thousand dollars."
Mike took a step back. "Seriously?" He instantly turned toward the exit.
But the guy was a master charmer. He quickly stepped into Mike's path, lowering his voice. "Hey, don't worry about the sticker price. I can help you out here. This piece is life-changing. It's the kind of investment that secures your family's future and sets you up for massive success. What kind of budget are we looking at?"
"Honestly, I don't have that kind of cash," Mike said, pulling out his phone.
The man nodded with deep, manufactured empathy. "Look, I like you. I'll give you a backroom deal. Fifty thousand dollars flat. That's it. You take this, flip it, open your own boutique, and you're set for life."
Mike actually caught himself believing the guy. For a fleeting second, he pictured himself wearing an expensive suit, running a showroom even bigger than this one. He pulled up his banking app and saw his life savings sitting at fifty-seven thousand dollars.
"Do I pay for this at the front counter?" Mike asked.
"No, don't go to the counter," the man whispered, pointing to a printed card on the display rack. "The main staff won't authorize an under-the-table discount like this. Just send the fifty grand straight to my PayPal right here."
Mike's fingers hovered over the screen as he began typing in the payment details. "I just hope the shop Wi-Fi actually works," he muttered.
The man kept up the pressure, talking casually. "You know Thompson? The retail billionaire? He started out doing deals right here on this floor. Now he's pulling in ungodly amounts of money."
Mike hit submit and watched the confirmation screen pop up. "Okay, it's gone through."
"Fantastic! You're officially on your way," the man said, beaming as he handed over a beautifully wrapped, heavy box. "Remember my face when you're a massive success."
Mike took the box and walked out into the street, feeling a weird, heavy mix of intense hope and immediate regret. A part of him wondered if he should have stuck to his martial arts training instead of trying to force his way into business. Unable to wait until he got home, he slid into the front seat of the big truck he'd parked earlier and tore the box open. He stared inside, completely baffled. None of the components made any sense. He picked up the main plastic piece to inspect it, and it instantly snapped in his hands.
Panic flooded his chest. Mike scrambled out of the cab and sprinted straight back into the store, screaming, "This is a scam! The whole thing is fake!"
When he burst through the doors, the slick salesman was nowhere to be found. The only person inside was a lone cashier behind the main counter, who didn't even bother looking up from his phone.
"Where is the guy who was just standing right here selling me this?" Mike demanded, out of breath.
"He's gone," the cashier said flatly. "And we're locking up for the night."
"But it's barely even evening!" Mike protested.
"Doesn't matter. We always close at this time on Thursdays," the cashier insisted, stretching.
Mike slammed the broken plastic pieces onto the counter. "Look at this! This is complete junk!"
The cashier glanced at the broken plastic, and a bright, amused smile spread across his face. "Oh, those? Those are just children's novelty toys. Kids buy them out of the discount bin all the time."
Mike felt the entire room tilt. "How much do they actually cost?"
"A dollar a piece."
"A dollar?" Mike's voice cracked, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. "I literally just transferred fifty thousand dollars for this box."
The cashier's eyes went wide, looking genuinely shocked. "Whoa, hold on. Who exactly sold that to you?"
Mike frantically pulled up his transaction history and read out the PayPal email address. The cashier shook his head. "We don't have anyone by that name here. That email isn't registered to any of our employees. Look, man, let's just handle this first thing tomorrow morning. Go home, get some rest."
"I am not leaving this building," Mike said, his teeth clenched, his hands shaking with rage.
Seeing that Mike was completely stubborn and on the verge of a breakdown, the cashier sighed and threw his hands up. "Alright, fine, you can wait inside while I finish closing down. But seriously, those toys aren't worth more than a thousand bucks even if you had the whole warehouse supply."
Mike sank onto the floor, his back pressed against the wall, staring blankly at the cheap plastic shards in his lap. The cashier walked over, tossed a small packet of crisps into his lap, and told him he'd review the security footage in the morning. Then, he turned off the main showroom lights, walked into the back office, and locked the inner doors.
Sitting alone in the dim after-hours light, Mike's mind raced, replaying every single second of the interaction. He thought about the salesman's polished look, the smooth voice, the gestures. Then, his eyes traveled down to the packet of snacks the cashier had dropped in his lap. His brain suddenly mapped two completely separate details together. The cashier had been wearing a heavy, distinctive silver chain around his neck. It was the exact same silver chain the salesman had been wearing.
Mike froze. They weren't partners. They were the exact same person.
He scrambled to his feet and bolted toward the front exit, but the heavy electronic glass doors had already clicked shut into lockdown mode. In a blind panic, he grabbed a heavy metal display rod from a clothing rack and slammed it against the reinforced glass with all his strength. The metal clanged loudly, but the glass didn't even crack.
Through the window, Mike saw the man stroll casually across the parking lot, toss his duffel bag into the driver's seat of the luxury pickup truck, and climb inside. Frantic, Mike pressed his face against the glass, trying desperately to read the license plate as the engine roared to life. But just as the truck pulled out, another car pulled straight out of the dark alleyway right behind it, perfectly blocking the tail lights and the tags from view as the vehicle melted into the Zora Town traffic.
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The trap is sprung, and Mike is locked inside the very store where he just lost his life savings.
If you want to find out how he uses his martial arts background to escape the lockdown, or what his next move is to track down this fraudster, let me know if you want me to write the next chapter. Where should the story go from here?
***
Keep reading: The next chapter is going to be even crazier! Seriously.