Michael smiled softly, his voice gentle. "It's nothing, really. Let's go grab some dinner."
Anya eagerly agreed, "Sure! I'm treating tonight!"
At the restaurant, Michael and Anya sat across from each other. After the events of earlier, the atmosphere was much lighter.
As Michael enjoyed his meal, he occasionally glanced out the window, lost in thought about what he should do tomorrow.
"Hey, you've gotten quieter than before." Anya said, putting down her knife and fork. "It seems like a major shock can really change a person. But trust me, everything will be alright. We should try not to think about it, not talk about the cancer, okay?"
Michael turned his head, smiling as he changed the subject. "Oh, by the way, Anya, how did you manage to break into my house?"
Upon hearing this question, the girl across from him perked up, a glimmer of pride flashing in her eyes. "Remember how I told you I was learning hacking techniques?"
Michael paused for a moment, suddenly recalling the conversation. "Oh, that's right... you learned it?"
"That's right. You have no idea, I have a natural talent for this stuff. Though I'm still at the beginner level, I'm making rapid progress. I was able to break into your password-protected door with no problem."
Michael was impressed, raising his glass. "That's not just a beginner level. That's practically master-level work!"
The two glasses clinked together with a crisp sound.
After dinner.
At Anya's apartment, Michael stood in a noticeably spacious and tidy room, adjusting his hair in front of the mirror. This was the room Anya had specially set up for him.
Honestly, Michael felt grateful to her. He couldn't help but whisper to himself, "If I can't become a Time Merchant, she might be the only person in the world who actually cares about me."
Michael gently opened the door and stepped out. As he walked past Anya's room, he noticed the door was ajar, and the light was still on.
Light spilled from the slightly open door into the hallway. He leaned in closer and saw that Anya was already lying in bed, fast asleep. Her face was peaceful, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
Michael shook his head. "Really, she's so unguarded." He reached in, turned off the light, then quietly stepped back and gently closed the door behind him.
"Goodnight."
The night passed without a word.
The next morning, Anya left for work early. When Michael woke up, he found food on the dining table, along with a note.
Michael read the note and realized that it was the meal Anya had left for him.
A warmth spread through his chest as he looked at the time and realized it was already eleven o'clock. "Anya really works hard... but it sure feels nice not having to work." he murmured, sitting down to enjoy breakfast.
Anya's cooking was quite good. After finishing, Michael stood up and grabbed his phone, only to find a missed call and a text message.
The call was from an unknown number.
The message, however, was from Moretti. Michael checked the content: "The hacker is scheduled to meet today at 3 PM, Chronicle Café."
He nodded slightly. The Cahill Family was efficient.
Then, Michael dialed the unknown number.
"Beep..." The phone was picked up almost instantly. A humble, cautious voice came from the other end. "Hello, sir. Do you remember me? It's Dale."
Soon after, in a picturesque park, Michael met with the man in front of him.
This was Dale—a man with dark, weathered skin, a man who had seen much hardship in life.
He was a husband, a father, and the pillar of his family.
When he saw Michael, his emotions were clearly stirred.
"Now, you can continue." Michael said straightforwardly. "You want to proceed with the deal we discussed earlier, don't you?" There were certain things that were better discussed in person, not over the phone.
Dale nodded without hesitation. "Yes, sir. $300,000 for one year of life. Does that still stand?"
Michael immediately replied, "Of course. It's valid at any time."
Dale seemed to have made up his mind. He nodded again. "Alright, Mr. Grim Reaper. I'd like to sell five years of my life."
Michael's expression shifted slightly, and he waved his hand.
Name: Dale
Age: 52
Remaining Life: 8 years, 6 months, 16 days
"Are you sure?" Michael asked, narrowing his eyes. "You need to understand, you only have eight years left to live."
Dale didn't hesitate to nod. "Five hundred thousand for my little girl's bone marrow transplant and the subsequent treatments. Three hundred thousand for her college tuition and her driver's license. One hundred thousand to buy her a car. And another one hundred fifty thousand to pay off the debts from my farm business… The rest is for my wife's retirement and care. Once all of that is taken care of, what's the point of me living any longer?" He listed off the amounts. His eyes not filled with sorrow, but with hope, happiness, and a sense of resolve.
Michael fell silent, choosing not to say much more. It was clear that the other party had made up their mind. "Alright then, just confirm that you've made your decision: a five-year lifespan for one and a half million dollars." He raised his head, locking eyes with the other person, his voice low and steady.
Dale nodded once again. Michael reached into his coat and took out the recording pen, repeating the contract terms he had explained to Jerry earlier. He guided Dale through the process, and Dale was fully cooperative.
"Everything we've discussed will form a contract. Now, the deal is complete, and I will give you one and a half million dollars." Michael said, locking eyes with him.
He then walked over to his car and opened the trunk, revealing several money bags. Each bag contained $500,000, and Michael took out three of them, handing them to Dale.
Dale's hands trembled as he eagerly took the money, his eyes nearly shaking with excitement.
In his entire life, he had never seen so much money. "Thank you, truly… thank you, sir."
The money wasn't just money for him—it was the hope for his entire family.
Afterwards, Dale left, and the transaction was complete.
Michael watched as Dale's car disappeared. At the same time, his own lifespan increased by another year.
Of course, he didn't think he had done anything noble for Dale. He simply held respect for this responsible man. And for that reason, this was the only transaction where Michael didn't even wear his mask throughout the entire process.
He closed the trunk of his car and got in, driving away.
Glancing at his phone, he saw that it was 2:30 PM—almost 3:00. It was time to prepare to meet the legendary hacker he had arranged to meet.
He couldn't help but wonder what the other person would look like…
As Michael drove, his mind began to wander, imagining all the cold, aloof hackers he'd seen in movies.
"Here we are." Under the afternoon sun, Michael arrived at a well-decorated café, with a golden sign casting a soft glow. The sign read: Chronicle Café.
Michael took the Grim Reaper mask from his bag, put it on, and got out of the car.
However, as he entered the café and spotted the person he was meeting, he froze. The person was a woman.
She sat at a window-side table, her legs crossed, long hair cascading down her back, and her deep-set eyes radiating an enigmatic, almost ungraspable mystery.
She wore a black dress, with delicate lace around the collar. The tight fit of the dress accentuated her perfect figure, and at the hem near her thigh, a red satin ribbon could be seen, adding a touch of dangerous beauty.
She was looking out the window, holding a cigarette between her slender fingers, nails painted deep red, exhaling a thin stream of smoke.
Her appearance and aura left a lasting impression.
Michael double-checked the seating arrangement on his phone with the message from Moretti and confirmed that this was indeed the person.
After a brief hesitation, he sat down across from her and told the waiter, "Two coffees, please."
The coffee was soon brought over, and a somewhat playful voice came from across the table. "You seem a little nervous. Haven't you met a hacker before?"
Michael stirred his coffee. This time not altering his voice. "No, I just didn't expect it to be a woman."
She chuckled softly. "Are you trying to hide your identity? Why wear a mask? If that's the case, why not meet online?"
Michael smiled without hesitation. "Meeting a hacker face to face is probably a better way to protect my privacy than doing it online, don't you think?"
The woman didn't respond directly. Instead, she turned her head slightly and, with a more serious tone, spoke. "Elizabeth Seraphina, alias 'Nightshade.' Moretti told me you would be my new employer."