The cashier announced to the old woman, 'The total is 38 units and 75 cents.' His face was forgettable, save for a permanent smile that seemed almost plastered on. The elderly customer, dressed in a large black coat that hid her figure and a hat on her gray hair, set her antique bag on the table and began counting pennies from a glass jar into her palm. The sound of pennies clinking against each other created a tinkling sound that only grew more annoying with each additional coin dropped onto the table.
His lips trembled briefly before settling into a smile that only seemed more forced now. The other customers, who were waiting in line with their groceries in hand, grew increasingly impatient. Their foreheads furrowed and some began tapping their feet against the ground, their irritation growing with every passing second. The cashier understood their frustration all too well; Friday had arrived, and the much-anticipated finale of the league was scheduled for that very evening. This knowledge only made the cashier more keenly aware of the customers' dwindling patience.
The cashier didn't have any interest in the game that was causing such anticipation among the customers. All he really wanted was to finish his shift and go home. After all, he wasn't a student, so there wasn't much difference between his weekdays. In his view, they were all just terrible. If it wasn't for his coworker, who had pleaded with tears in his eyes to take over his shift so he wouldn't miss any part of the game, the cashier would have been at home right now instead of dealing with Mrs. June and her slow counting.
At long last, Mrs. June finished counting her coins and quietly made her way to the door. The young customer, who had been bouncing on his heels with restless energy, hastily placed a pack of soda and a bag of chips on the counter. After Mrs. June's slow and meticulous counting, all the other customers were served quickly, and the cashier finally breathed a sigh of relief after wiping away his artificial smile. It was starting to seem as if there would be no more customers for the night, which gave him hope that the end of his shift was in sight.
With only twenty minutes left before closing, the cashier began diligently sweeping the floor. The thought of finishing his work and closing the store put a genuine smile on his face, not the false one he had to wear for work. While expertly maneuvering the broom, his body seemed to move of its own accord until he suddenly froze, as the sound of the tiny door buzzer alerted him to the arrival of a new customer.
A girl who looked no older than a recent graduate or final-year student entered the store with her long, gray, curly hair that was unusual for a girl her age. She wore a dress of the same color, stopping just below her knees, and a black coat over it. The sound of her heels echoed loudly in the otherwise silent store. She appeared to be searching for something, or perhaps just wasting time. The cashier was not pleased, as he had already begun imagining himself cozily at home before this unexpected and unwelcome customer appeared.
Although he wanted nothing more in that moment than to politely but firmly ask her to leave, the cashier knew he couldn't do that. Helping this troublesome customer find what she needed would get her out of the store faster. As he approached, he noticed her turning her head anxiously towards the glass door, where a group of five men stood outside, loudly singing while they enjoyed smoking cigarettes. The cashier suddenly realized that this girl had not come into the store to make a purchase, but to find refuge from the group of rowdy men loitering outside.
He sighed resignedly, knowing that the night still had some way to go before it was over. He approached the girl carefully, making sure not to startle her. After she turned to him with a worried smile while pretending to inspect a can of beans, he chuckled. Before speaking, he quietly said, "There's a back door next to the soda fridge. Slip out through it quietly so those rowdy folks outside don't spot you." He continued to sweep the floor nonchalantly, as though he was merely mumbling to himself.
The girl looked at him blankly, still not comprehending his words. The exasperated cashier sighed before reaching into his pocket and dropping a set of keys to the floor. He knelt down and grabbed them, then spoke up more loudly, "Take these keys and leave now. There's a blue bike outside. Get on it and go home. Understand? Just be discreet about it so those troublesome people don't notice you. Got it now?"
The girl finally understood the situation, and a tear welled up in her eyes, not from fear, but rather as a result of the sudden rescue that had come to her. She quickly grabbed the keys before the cashier could chastise her further, and crept over to the soda fridge. The cashier then returned to sweeping, not wanting to draw any attention to the girl's escape. He had done all he could to ensure her safety, or at least give her a chance to escape; the rest was up to her now.
The girl swiftly carried out the instructions he had given her. While busily sweeping the floor, the cashier checked the area near the back door to find it empty and the girl gone. All that remained was red heels on the ground. The girl must have tossed them away to make riding the bike easier.
The cashier discreetly picked up the heels and studied it for a moment before the sound of the door buzzer pierced his ears again. He turned to see who had come calling at this hour. He threw the heel away and returned to the store when he saw the customer.
The customer who entered was none other than the same group of annoying men who had been loitering outside. Their heavy stench of cigarettes immediately filled the store, causing the cashier to cough. He knew these idiots weren't here to shop; they'd come to check on their prey. Fortunately, their target had already made a stealthy escape.
"Excuse me," the cashier began, "but we are about to close. You can come back tomorrow morning. We open the store at..."
One of the men rudely interrupted him, getting straight to the point: "Where's the girl?"
"What girl?" The cashier repeated, a goofy smile on his face.
One of the men grabbed his collar and forcefully pulled him towards him, causing his stomach to hit the table, causing a twinge of pain. However, the cashier didn't react, calmly meeting the giant man's gaze and repeating his answer "What girl?". There was no hint of fear or worry in his eyes.
"Let him go, Miguel," the 20ish young man, who appeared to be the group's leader, said. "The girl must have slipped out through the back door, and it seems like my old man's scrawny worker here helped her." He spoke casually, not bothering to look at the cashier as he grabbed a pack of soda and made his way out of the store. As the son of the store owner, the cashier didn't bother asking him to pay, of course.
Miguel released the cashier and even patted his elbows and head with a sarcastic smile. "Sorry about that. I was just messing with you a bit," he chuckled.
The cashier didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the clock. There were only five minutes left until closing time, and he wasn't about to waste it on these fools. Thankfully, after helping themselves to a pack of soda, they finally left the store, allowing him to lock up for the night and head home to his warm abode.
It had been some time since he had last walked home on foot. Typically, he used his bike to get home, but because he had helped the girl escape, he was left to rely on his skinny legs. After a steady 20-minute walk under the streetlights, he finally arrived home. His house was a modest two-story residence, similar to the other houses in the neighborhood. The house's aging structure was adorned with a front and back garden and needed regular repairs, but to the cashier, it was his sanctuary and the most beautiful place in the world.
The cashier slowly ascended the stairs, the creaking wood drowning out the sounds of the night's chirping crickets. Upon reaching the door, he noticed broken glass scattered on the ground, remnants of the front window. Most of the upper portion had fallen to the ground, and the lower half was in poor condition.
He quickly rushed into the house, his heart thinking about his most precious possession. In his haste, he nearly tripped on the threshold, but he didn't let that stop him and continued his anxious run towards the living room.
In the brief span of two seconds between spotting the evidence of the crime and reaching the living room, countless alarming thoughts raced through his mind. Yet, all those dreadings vanished when he laid eyes on his most precious possession, still in its rightful place, untouched. It stood there, as proud as ever – his beloved television set.
The shards of broken glass littered the floor, but he couldn't care less. He was still wearing his shoes, and even if he wasn't, the debris wouldn't deter him from the mission at hand. He approached the TV with quiet footsteps, then gently knelt on the floor and wrapped his arms around the bulky screen, planting tender kisses on its sleek surface.
After ensuring that his cherished television was unharmed, the cashier moved on to investigate the cause of the broken window. Likely, one of the neighborhood kids had accidentally or intentionally shattered the glass while playing. Not knowing who was responsible, he couldn't take any action. He straightened up and began tidying the area, searching for the cause of the mess.
As his eyes fell upon the table, his eyes widened in terror, and his limbs involuntarily trembled. His trembling body pressed against the wall behind him, and he started to stutter in shock.
On the table lay a long, intricately carved staff, its body adorned with luminous symbols and runes, and its surface radiating a brilliant array of colors. At its head, there was a hive-like structure, and inside its cells, a dazzling blue light emanated, a radiant blue crystal at its heart. Its soothing blue glow illuminated the room, bringing unbearable terror to the cashier's heart.
This object on the table, without a doubt, was a staff - a magic staff found in tales of fantasy. Yet, for the cashier, it held a far more ominous meaning. With a hushed voice laced with fear, he spoke the name: "The staff of Illuminati."