I shuffle into the lobby, still a bit disoriented from the strange whirlwind of my day. The grand chandeliers above seem like overkill, but I'm too tired to care. I approach the counter and check in, not bothering with small talk. Just hand over my credit card with an almost robotic precision. "I'll take the best room you have," I mutter, eyes glazed over.
After a brief exchange, the receptionist hands me a key, looking like she wants to ask more questions but decides against it. I don't care. I make my way up to the suite, mind buzzing with that strange mix of excitement and fatigue.
The door to my room opens, and I step inside, immediately crashing onto the massive bed with a dramatic flop. It's soft. Too soft. The mattress practically swallows me whole. For a second, I just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling my body sink deeper into the luxuriousness of it all.
"God, this is ridiculous," I mumble to myself, but I can't help it. I stretch my arms out and just lay there for a while, decompressing, letting the weight of the day wash over me.
When the noise in my head finally quiets, my first instinct is to pull out my phone. As usual, I open up the app and check my account.
Current balance: $45,000/50,000.
Well, shit. That's less than I thought.
I think back to the ridiculous spending spree at the department store earlier, the designer clothes, the overpriced t-shirts. Did I really just buy that plain white shirt for 300 bucks?
But now, looking at the progress bar, I realize there's only $5,000 left to go. It feels... like nothing. A drop in the bucket compared to the ridiculousness of what I've already spent.
Under normal circumstances, I'd just roll out of bed, grab a drink, and sulk into oblivion. But something feels different this time. I'm tired. My stomach is growling. I don't want to drink away the rest of my money or waste any more time brooding.
"No, screw it," I groan, "Comfort food. I deserve comfort food."
So, I whip out my phone again, my fingers tapping away in search of the most indulgent take-out imaginable. After a few seconds of scrolling, my eyes light up. This is what the good life is all about, right? I order pizza. Then Chinese food. Chicken wings. Sushi. Hell, even a couple of random desserts because why not? I need a balance, after all.
To wash it all down, I add two gallons of soda to the order. It feels almost absurd, but I'm not thinking too hard about it. All I care about now is getting this task done, so I can move on to the next thing.
I kick back on the bed, completely zoning out as I wait for the food. I stare at the ceiling, still processing everything, but also feeling an odd peace in this moment of gluttony. When it arrives, I don't waste any time. The food comes in droves—an entire buffet of junk food, all in my room for the taking.
For the next few hours, I demolish everything in sight. I inhale pizza slices like I've just emerged from a desert. The chicken wings? They don't stand a chance. The sushi gets shoved in between mouthfuls of rice and deep-fried egg rolls.
"I might as well be in hell," I mutter between bites, my hand reaching for yet another plate of lo mein. "But at least it's a good kind of hell."
By the time the last box of food is empty, the 2 gallons of soda are half-gone, and I feel stuffed in a way that could only be described as borderline dangerous. I wipe my hands on my pants, settling back into the bed with a satisfied sigh.
Task Complete.
I blink. The phone notification has popped up, and I barely register it between my food coma and my exhaustion.
Task: Spend $50,000 in one day
Progress: $50,000/50,000
Reward: $500,000
I toss my phone aside and close my eyes. The bed feels impossibly soft, the food makes me feel like a bloated king, and as for the money? Well, I have no idea what I'm going to do with it. But that's not really a problem at the moment.
Tomorrow, I'll figure it out. But for tonight?
I roll over, too tired to care about anything else. The world can wait.