The Silent Ledger
Chapter 3: The First Gamble
Ethan's fingers curled around his new time debtor's bracelet, its faint glow reminding him that every second he stood here, he was losing time. One month per day. If he didn't start repaying his debt now, he wouldn't last a week.
Avery's gaze didn't waver. "You have options, Mr. Carter. But survival in the time economy isn't about playing it safe—it's about playing it smart."
Ethan exhaled sharply. "Fine. Show me the market."
Avery tapped her tablet, and the floor beneath them shifted. The air thickened, reality bent. A moment later, the two of them stood inside a vast, high-tech trading floor. Hundreds of floating screens, flashing numbers, graphs, and time-based transactions, hovered above sleek workstations. The air buzzed with urgency.
Ethan barely had time to process before Avery led him to a holographic trading console. "Welcome to the Time Market Exchange," she said smoothly. "This is where the desperate come to buy, sell, and gamble what little time they have left."
Ethan's eyes darted across the screens. He saw transactions happening in real time—people selling minutes, hours, even years for quick cash. Others engaged in high-stakes bets, wagering their futures on outcomes of real-world events.
His pulse quickened. "So how does this work?"
Avery swiped the console, pulling up his account details.
Ethan Carter
Time Remaining: 10 Years
Debt: 50 Years
Interest: 1 Month Per Day
Available Time for Trade: 0
She glanced at him. "Since you have no available time to sell, you'll need to start by gambling—or taking contract work."
Ethan scanned the available options. Contract work offered steady, small gains: +3 months for completing a specialized job. But the process looked slow, bureaucratic.
Then he noticed the time wagers.
One in particular stood out.
Time Wager: The CEO's Fate
Event: In the next 24 hours, will CEO Marcus Hale survive the assassination attempt on his life?
Wager: Bet 1 year of lifespan to win 10 years.
Current Odds: Survival (2.5x) | Death (1.2x)
Ethan's stomach twisted. Assassination attempt? That meant someone already knew what was about to happen.
He turned to Avery. "These bets—how do people win them?"
Her expression was unreadable. "The winners aren't lucky, Mr. Carter. They're the ones who know beforehand."
Ethan's jaw tightened. "That's rigged."
"Not necessarily. If you have the right information, you can play the system. But information isn't free." She flicked a hand, and a smaller panel appeared.
Available Intelligence: Marcus Hale's Itinerary—500 Time Credits
Surveillance Access—800 Time Credits
High-Level Forecast—1 Year of Lifespan
Ethan clenched his teeth. He had no credits. No extra years. Nothing to buy the data that could help him win.
Avery watched him carefully. "If you want to gamble, Mr. Carter, you should understand one thing—you're playing against people who already know the future."
He forced himself to think. If the time market was rigged, then the only way to beat it was to find a way to see ahead. But how?
His eyes fell on another flashing notice.
Private Offer: A Benefactor is Willing to Lend You 1 Year in Exchange for Future Considerations.
His breath caught. A benefactor? Someone willing to loan him time?
Avery's gaze flickered to the offer. "Careful, Mr. Carter. Time debts are one thing. Personal debts? Those never come without a price."
Ethan's pulse pounded. He had two choices—
1. Accept the benefactor's offer, take the year, and buy the intelligence needed to guarantee a win.
2. Take a blind risk—bet on Marcus Hale's survival without insider knowledge. If he was wrong, he'd lose the little time he had left.
Neither option was safe. But safety didn't exist here.
Time was currency. And he was already in the red.
Ethan reached for the offer.
"I accept."
The moment he said the words, a chill ran down his spine. Somewhere in the vast system of the Time Loop Bank, a new contract had been formed. A new debt had been written.
His bracelet flickered.
+1 Year Added.
He exhaled. He had time. Now, he just had to make sure he didn't lose it.
(To be continued…)