The soft chime of a notification echoed in the dimly lit café.
Ye Xuan stared at his phone, the glow of the screen casting sharp shadows across his tired face. His fingers trembled as he tapped the message open.
📩 Su Mengyao: "Ye Xuan, thank you for always being there for me. You're a really good guy. I hope we can still be friends. 🙂"
A lighthearted text. Cheerful. Effortlessly casual.
Like she wasn't even aware she had just shattered the last piece of hope he had been clinging to.
His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. His mind had gone blank, yet at the same time, a chaotic storm raged within him.
He should've known.
All those nights she called him to talk about her problems. All the times she smiled at him in class, laughed at his jokes, and rested her head on his shoulder when she was tired.
It was never real.
It was never for him.
Across the café, the television played muted news coverage of a high-profile banquet. The camera zoomed in on a breathtaking woman in a pearl-white dress, her delicate fingers wrapped around a man's arm.
Su Mengyao.
Her smile was dazzling. Soft, intimate. The kind that Ye Xuan had once foolishly believed was meant for him.
But she wasn't alone.
The man beside her was Lin Tianyi, a young master of the Lin family—one of the most powerful names in the city. He was whispering something in her ear, and Su Mengyao let out a sweet, melodious laugh before leaning into him.
A deep chill crawled up Ye Xuan's spine.
It was like watching a movie of his own humiliation play out in real time.
His fingers clenched into a fist, his nails digging into his palm so hard they almost drew blood.
He should've left right then. Should've walked away and erased every memory of her from his mind.
But his phone buzzed again.
📩 Su Mengyao: "I hope you can be happy too. 😊"
Ye Xuan exhaled slowly.
Happy?
What a joke.
A bitter smile crept onto his lips as he stood, pushing back his chair. His body moved on autopilot, leaving the café and stepping onto the empty streets.
The world felt unnervingly silent.
The message still lingered on his screen, glowing mockingly in the night.
And then—
He deleted it.
No more hoping. No more waiting.
Su Mengyao had made her choice.
And now—
It was time for him to make his.
The night air was cold.
Ye Xuan walked aimlessly, hands shoved into the pockets of his thin jacket. His breath came out in shallow puffs, barely visible beneath the dim glow of the streetlights.
His mind was numb, but his lips moved on their own.
"Happy…?" He let out a dry chuckle, his voice hoarse. "She hopes I can be happy."
His steps faltered, and he dragged a hand through his unkempt hair.
"What was I even hoping for?"
He laughed—low, self-deprecating.
"Do I think she'd choose me? That one day, after all those late-night talks, all those times I helped her study, all those moments she cried on my shoulder—she'd finally turn around and realize I was the one?"
A bitter scoff escaped his throat.
"What a joke. A fucking joke."
His voice cracked at the last word, and for a brief moment, he almost mistook the sound for someone else's.
He had nothing left.
Not Su Mengyao. Not a future.
His job applications? Rejected. His so-called friends? Nowhere to be found. His landlord? Tossed him out with a polite but firm reminder that "good intentions don't pay rent."
The world didn't care about him.
He was just another faceless man in the crowd.
Another forgettable existence.
The wind howled through the narrow alleyways as he walked deeper into the heart of the city, past neon-lit streets and towering high-rises. His shoes scuffed against the pavement, each step heavier than the last.
Somewhere in the distance, car horns blared, laughter echoed from a passing group of drunken friends, and the city kept moving forward—as if he had never even been a part of it to begin with.
His vision blurred.
He stopped in his tracks, staring up at the black sky, eyes hollow.
"If I disappeared right now... would anyone even notice?"
Silence.
Not a single answer.
Not from the world.
Not from the heavens.
And certainly—not from Su Mengyao.
His fists trembled, nails digging into his palms so hard they almost pierced flesh.
He had given everything. Years of effort, patience, and devotion. For what? A casual text? A perfunctory smile?
All that time wasted. All that love—discarded.
What was the point?
Why bother?
The world wasn't fair. It never had been.
"I was born in the wrong place. The wrong class. The wrong life."
He exhaled shakily.
For the first time in his life, he truly understood the weight of emptiness.
The realization settled deep in his chest like a heavy stone—cold, suffocating, inescapable.
And then—
A voice, rough and amused, cut through the silence.
💀 "Well, now... that's quite the monologue."
Ye Xuan blinks.
Slowly, his gaze lowered.
And there, sitting in the darkened corner of a deserted alley, was an old beggar.
His clothes were in tatters, his skin weathered and wrinkled, but his eyes—his eyes gleamed with an unsettling light.
A grin spread across the old man's lips, revealing crooked teeth.
💀 "What a pitiful sight. Tossed away, forgotten, left to rot. Do you want another chance, boy?"
Ye Xuan's breath hitched.
His throat was dry, his mind sluggish.
"...a chance for what?"
The beggar leaned forward, his grin widening.
💀 "A chance to take back everything. A chance to rise higher than all of them. But power has a price, boy. Are you willing to pay?"
Ye Xuan's fingers curled into a fist.
He should've ignored him. Should've walked away. Should've told himself that this was just another lunatic in the city, spouting nonsense.
Ye Xuan narrowed his eyes.
The old beggar's grin stretched wider, deep-set wrinkles making his face look more grotesque under the flickering streetlight.
"A chance?" Ye Xuan scoffed, crossing his arms. "To take back everything? Seriously?"
The beggar didn't react. He just sat there, waiting.
Ye Xuan let out a breath, shaking his head. "Look, old man. I might be down bad, but I'm not some idiot who'd fall for a cheap scam."
He turned to leave, muttering, "The hell is this, some urban legend recruitment? Let me guess—next, you'll tell me there's a secret organization watching me."
The beggar chuckled. "Smart boy. You have a good head on your shoulders."
Ye Xuan scoffed again. "I'd rather keep my head than sell it to some shady con artist in an alley."
But despite his words, something unsettled him.
Most scammers—hell, most people—would try harder after being called out. They'd insist, push, spin more lies.
But this old man?
He just grinned.
Like he wasn't trying to convince Ye Xuan of anything. Like he already knew something Ye Xuan didn't.
The air suddenly felt colder.
A strange sensation crawled up Ye Xuan's spine—like something ancient and unseen was pressing against his skin.
The beggar's voice dropped to a whisper. "Are you so sure your life is still worth protecting?"
Ye Xuan froze.
His lips parted, but no words came out.
"You just spent the last hour walking aimlessly, drowning in self-pity, wondering if anyone would notice if you disappeared."
"You lost your home. Your job. Your so-called friends."
The beggar tilted his head, his grin never faltering.
"And of course… her."
Ye Xuan's chest tightened.
"Shut up."
The beggar ignored him. "She never loved you. She never even saw you. You were nothing more than a comforting distraction—until someone better came along."
Ye Xuan clenched his fists. "I said shut up."
The beggar chuckled. "Why does the truth hurt so much?"
Ye Xuan took a step forward, his teeth grinding together. He wanted to punch this crazy old bastard in the face.
But…
He didn't.
Because deep down—he wasn't angry at the beggar.
He was angry at himself.
Because every single word had been true.
His breath came out ragged, his shoulders tense.
The beggar simply watched, his dark, hollow eyes glinting under the dim alley lights.
Then, in a voice far too calm, he asked:
💀 "Tell me, boy. If I could offer you something real... would you dare to take it?"
Silence.
Ye Xuan swallowed. His heartbeat drummed against his ribs.
The smart thing would be to walk away.
But standing here, staring at this eerie old man with his knowing gaze—
A small, dangerous part of him hesitated.
Because what if?
What if... just this once... something real had come knocking?
Ye Xuan took a slow breath, steadying his thoughts.
"You keep talking in riddles," he muttered. "If you have something real, prove it."
The beggar's grin widened. "Good. I hate cowards."
From the folds of his tattered robe, he pulled out something small and black—a coin.
It was unlike any currency Ye Xuan had ever seen.
Dark as obsidian. Unnaturally smooth. Its surface pulsed with faint, eerie patterns that shifted like living ink.
The beggar flipped it between his fingers with unnatural dexterity before tossing it to Ye Xuan.
Ye Xuan caught it. The moment his skin touched the coin, a chill shot through his body.
His vision blurred.
For a fraction of a second—he saw something.
A battlefield soaked in blood. Warriors locked in brutal combat. A man in black armor standing atop a mountain of corpses, his blade dripping with crimson.
Then—
Nothing.
The visions vanished as quickly as they came, leaving Ye Xuan gasping.
His hands trembled. His heart pounded.
What the hell was that?
He looked up. The beggar was watching him, his hollow eyes glinting.
💀 "You felt it, didn't you?"
Ye Xuan swallowed.
He didn't know what just happened, but one thing was certain—
This was real.
The beggar leaned in, his voice barely a whisper.
💀 "That coin is your contract. Your gateway to power."
💀 "Trade a year of your life… and summon a soul from the past."
💀 "A warrior. A general. An assassin. Whoever answers your call, their knowledge, skills, and power will be yours to wield."
Ye Xuan's fingers tightened around the coin.
He should be terrified. He should throw this thing away and run.
But instead—
His lips curled into a slow, sharp smile.
"How do I make the trade?"
The beggar chuckled darkly.
💀 "Just flip the coin… and give up a year of your life."