Tim knelt on the grimy floor of the ground toilet, scrubbing the stained tiles with a worn brush. The stench was overwhelming, but he was used to it by now. His hands moved methodically, his mind drifting to thoughts of a different life.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a gang of young men poured in, their bodies slick with sweat. They were the new recruits of the Vanguard Academy, fresh from their training. Tim paused, watching them with a mixture of envy and admiration. These men were on their way to becoming soldiers, trained to battle the fearsome creatures known as the Virex.

"Man, that was brutal," one of the recruits said, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I thought I'd never make it through that obstacle course."

"Yeah, but we're still here," another chimed in, a grin spreading across his face. "Just a few more weeks, and we'll be full-fledged soldiers."

Tim listened to their banter, his heart aching with longing. He had always dreamed of joining the Vanguard Academy, of fighting the Virex and protecting their world. But the acceptance fee was beyond his reach, a barrier that kept his dreams forever out of reach.

One of the recruits noticed Tim and nudged his friend. "Hey, isn't that Tim? The janitor?"

"Yeah," the friend replied, sneering. "Probably dreaming about being one of us. Sorry, pal, but scrubbing toilets is about as close as you'll get."

Tim's face flurred with humiliation, but he didn't respond. Instead, he dipped his brush back into the soapy water and continued scrubbing, his movements more forceful now.

Brandon, tall and broad-shouldered, stepped forward from the group. His family's wealth and influence were well-known; they were major sponsors of the Vanguard Academy. He glanced at Tim with a smirk and, without warning, kicked over Tim's bucket. Dirty water spilled across the floor, mixing with the filth Tim had been scrubbing away.

"Watch it, cleaner boy," Brandon sneered. "Trying to clean up this dump like you can actually make a difference."

The other recruits laughed, their voices echoing off the tiled walls. Tim clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes on the ground. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing him react.

Brandon's eyes glittered with malice as he continued, "You know, you'll never be anything more than this. Just like your sick mother. A cleaner, through and through."

The words cut deep. Everyone knew Tim's mother had worked as a cleaner in the Wong mansion—Brandon's home—until her illness forced her to stop. Brandon and Tim had known each other since they were little, but their paths had diverged drastically. Brandon, born into privilege, had always looked down on Tim, flaunting his superiority at every turn.

"Remember how your mom used to scrub our floors, Tim?" Brandon's voice dripped with condescension. "Guess it runs in the family."

Tim's face burned with a mix of shame and anger, but he kept scrubbing, refusing to look up. The laughter around him felt like knives, each one digging deeper into his pride.

One of the recruits nudged Brandon. "Come on, man, let's go. We've got training to get back to."

Brandon gave Tim one last contemptuous look before turning away. "Yeah, let's leave him to his mopping. See you around, cleaner boy."

As the door swung shut behind them, Tim finally allowed himself to breathe. He sat back on his heels, staring at the dirty water spreading across the floor.

Night had fallen by the time Tim finished his shift. He trudged to the small office where a short, balding man was counting money behind a battered desk.

"Here you go, Tim," the man said, handing over an envelope. "Your pay for the month. Two thousand dollars."

Tim took the envelope, his heart sinking as he thumbed through the bills. He knew it wouldn't be enough. Thirty percent of his pay always went to his mother's medical bills, leaving him with barely enough to cover his own expenses. And tonight, he needed to pay the final installment of his bride price to the Dobre family for Tess, the girl he had been dating for years.

"Thanks, Mr. Lewis," Tim said, forcing a smile.

Mr. Lewis grunted in response, already absorbed back in his money-counting.

Tim walked out into the cool night air, his mind heavy with thoughts. He made his way through the dimly lit streets to the Dobre family's house, clutching the envelope tightly. He paused at the gate, took a deep breath, and pressed the doorbell.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing Tess. Her expression shifted from surprise to disgust in an instant.

"Tim," she said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

Tim swallowed hard. "I came to pay the rest of the bride price," he said, holding up the envelope.

Tess's eyes flicked to the money and back to Tim's face, her lips curling in disdain. "Why bother, Tim? It's not like my family needs your money."

Tim's heart sank. "But we agreed... We've been together for years, Tess."

She sighed, exasperated. "That was before. Things have changed. Look at you, Tim. You're still scrubbing toilets. Do you really think you can provide for me?"

Tim's hands tightened around the envelope. "I'm trying, Tess. I'm working hard. I love you."

Tess shook her head, stepping back into the house. "I can't do this anymore, Tim. You're just not enough."

Tim took a step forward, desperation in his eyes. "Tess, please, we can work this out. Just give me a chance."

Before Tess could respond, her parents appeared in the doorway, dressed in expensive clothing. Her father, a tall man with a stern face, looked down at Tim with disgust. Her mother, equally well-dressed, stood beside him, her eyes cold.

"What is this trash doing here?" Tess's father demanded.

Tim swallowed his pride and greeted them with respect. "Good evening, sir, ma'am. I came to pay the remaining money for the bride price."

Tess's father chuckled, a harsh, mocking sound. "We need that no more," he said. "We don't need you anymore, and you certainly won't be getting our daughter. You're not fit for her."