In August, New York feels like a furnace, leaving people breathless as the air hangs heavy and stifling.
Daniel fans himself, trying to summon a little breeze while clumsily managing the food on the hamburger grill before him, turning patties and sprinkling seasonings with uncertain skill. It's clear he's not a master of the grill.
Indeed, Daniel has been in the hamburger business for less than a month. His technique is still unrefined, and his setup is exceedingly modest—just a grill, two tables, and over ten stools.
As for business, it's neither bustling nor dismal. Of the two tables, only one is occupied by three patrons, while the other sits empty.
He casts an envious glance at the three students engaged in animated conversation. Just a year ago, he was one of them, filled with hopes for the future. Now, he finds himself tethered to this simple stall, serving burgers. "What a cruel society," he murmurs softly, continuing to flip the patties.
"Boss, five hamburgers, three large fries, and three cups of cola!" a booming voice suddenly interrupts his thoughts.
Daniel's heart leaps at the sizable order. "Okay!" he replies cheerfully, looking up, only to feel his enthusiasm wane. The customer before him is disheveled—hair unkempt, face smeared with dirt, and clothes worn and patched. With tattered flip-flops, he resembles a beggar more than a customer.
"Hurry up, I'm starving!" the man urges, noticing Daniel's hesitation.
"Sure, I'll get right on it," Daniel responds, though his hands remain frozen.
"Worried I won't pay?" the man prods, sensing Daniel's concern.
"Of course not! It's just… with your appearance…" Daniel thinks but keeps the thought to himself. "No, no, of course not."
"That's good," the man nods, then mutters under his breath, "I really don't have any money."
Daniel, oblivious to this last remark, is reassured by the man's spirited demeanor. He can't let appearances dictate his actions—he needs customers, and he can't turn anyone away.
After a flurry of activity, Daniel finally hands over the order. "That'll be 20 dollars."
The man takes the food but immediately begins eating, ignoring the price. Daniel doesn't rush him; as long as he stays and eats, it's fine by him.
"Boss, another two bottles of cola!" calls one of the students at the occupied table.
"Coming!" Daniel replies, grabbing the drinks. Out of the corner of his eye, he keeps an eye on the man who seems to be lost in his meal.
As he sets down the colas, he turns back—and is stunned. The man who had been there moments ago has vanished without a trace. It's as if he had evaporated into thin air.
This is bizarre! Daniel races back to his stall, scanning the street for any sign of the man. Yet, the quiet street offers no clues; the man is gone.
What a strange turn of events! Disappointed, Daniel returns to his grill. "Just a deadbeat who eats and runs," he grumbles to himself.
"Eh, what's this?" He spots a gray ring on the ground beside the grill. Picking it up, he examines it, unsure of its material—smooth and round, but unremarkable.
"Could this be his? Left behind as a sort of payment?" Daniel ponders, glancing at the ring. "But can a broken ring really be worth 20 dollars? No wonder he was embarrassed and snuck off."
Initially tempted to toss it aside, Daniel finds the ring oddly comforting in his hand, and when he slips it on, it fits perfectly.
"Something is better than nothing," he tells himself. "I'll just chalk it up as a loss."
Around one in the morning, with the streets nearly deserted, Daniel cleans up and heads back to his cramped, ten-square-meter rented room. Once inside, he lays on his bed, reflecting on the past year and feeling a wave of melancholy.
He, too, is a college graduate, albeit from a lesser-known school, and his degree wasn't in a field that led to good jobs. After losing his initial job due to an unfortunate incident, he struggled to find stable work. The city's competitive job market left him taking on all sorts of odd jobs—construction, mascot work, waiting tables—each more disastrous than the last.
Just over a month ago, he pooled his meager savings to start this hamburger venture, hoping to make some money during the summer.
Yet running a stall proves tougher than anticipated. With established burger joints nearby boasting better locations and atmospheres, business has been slow. Despite his eagerness to succeed, his anxiety grows.
"What's even more frustrating is that someone ate without paying today," he thinks bitterly, eyeing the ring again. "It feels like everything I do ends in disaster."
Angry, he attempts to remove the ring, but it won't budge. After several frustrating minutes, his finger grows sore and reddened.
Suddenly, a shocking development occurs: the blood from his finger is drawn into the ring, which transforms from dull gray to a brilliant shine, radiating like sunlight at noon.
"Host detected. Binding in progress…" a mechanical voice echoes in his ear.