I'm broke...
Again...
I slump on the sofa like a discarded sack of rice, hands dramatically draped over my face. Broke. Completely and utterly broke. Not a single coin to my name. The cruel memory of the cafe's glorious pastries haunts me, each delicious bite mocking my financial ruin.
"Why... why am I like this?" I groan, staring at the cracked ceiling. "I was a Time Warden. A being of wisdom and power! And now? Now I've been bested by cake!"
But I must not waver! I have a goal! The sweetest, most divine pastries known to man shall be mine once more. My pride, my dignity — they mean nothing in the face of strawberry shortcake. Yet, just as I start fantasizing about whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, a harsh realization hits me.
"Wait a minute... That's not why I'm here!"
I slam my fists into the sofa. "I descended to the human realm to understand emotions! Not to wage a one-man war against my own bank account!" I dramatically sit upright, determination blazing in my eyes. "Alright, Shiwei. No more distractions. I will earn money once more!"
But first... I must rest. I'm still to full from all those cakes I ate...
***
The next day, with that newfound resolve, I march back to Mrs. Henderson's house. The old lady's flower-adorned porch greets me like a judgmental elder.
This garden... Heh, I made this into a majestic sanctuary.
I knock twice. The door creaks open, and Mrs. Henderson's warm but mildly suspicious eyes meet mine.
"Oh, Shiwei! Back already?" she smiles, but her brows furrow. "You just got paid yesterday. Did something happen?"
I clear my throat, avoiding eye contact. "Ahem. Well, you see... human economic systems are complex and... deceitful."
"You spent it all, didn't you?"
I clutch my chest, offended. "How dare you imply such a— Yes..."
Mrs. Henderson stifles a laugh. "Well, since you look like a lost puppy, I might have something for you." She pauses. "Newspaper delivery."
"A noble task!" I declare, fists clenched. "I shall deliver these... papers of news... to the masses!"
But then it hits me.
"What in the name of time is a newspaper?"
Mrs. Henderson blinks at me, baffled. I hastily pull out the dreaded glowing rectangle — the smartphone. It's my last resort. My archenemy. I glare at it.
"Alright, you vile product of human sorcery," I grumble. "I'm giving you one last chance. Show me what a 'newspaper' is, and do not fail me."
It remains silent, like a smug little demon.
A quick search reveals the answer. I stare at the screen, dumbfounded.
"Humans print out news on dead trees and distribute it?" I mumble. "How barbaric."
Mrs. Henderson, deciding not to question my outburst, hands me a bag of neatly stacked newspapers. "Just follow the route I wrote down. And Shiwei? Be careful. Some houses have dogs."
Dogs? Pfft. I am a Time Warden! A mere canine is no match for my ancient wisdom!
With the map in one hand and my arch-nemesis smartphone in the other, I march down the neighborhood. The air is peaceful. The task seems simple enough.
I fling the first newspaper with the flair of a hero casting a legendary spell. It soars gracefully... and lands directly in a nearby bush.
"A minor setback!" I declare. "But fear not, for I shall improve!"
The second newspaper flies... and smacks a garden gnome square in the face.
"Tch. You deserved that, gnome."
By the fifth house, I'm finally getting the hang of it. I grin, confident. "See? I am a natural!"
Then I hear it.
A growl.
Slowly, I turn my head. A beast, no — a monster — stands at the gate. A dog. Its eyes burn with primal fury. Its jowls drip with the promise of destruction.
"Ah," I whisper. "Mrs. Henderson warned me about this."
The beast lunges at me!
"BY THE HANDS OF TIME!"
I sprint. Newspapers fly from my bag like paper confetti. The dog is fast! Too fucking fast! I vault over fences. I zig-zag through backyards. Somewhere, a cat screeches in protest as I trample through its territory. I swear I see a squirrel giving me a judgmental look!
"STAND DOWN, YOU FIEND!" I shriek, throwing a newspaper in its direction. It misses. Miserably.
Finally, salvation! A mailman rounds the corner, casually sipping his coffee. I dive behind him.
"Protect me, messenger of the human realm!"
The dog, unimpressed, snorts and retreats. I pant, sprawled dramatically on the sidewalk.
"Why... why must the Fates toy with me so much?"
After what feels like an eternity, I complete my task. Mrs. Henderson smiles warmly, handing me my pay.
"Well done, Shiwei. And I see you survived the dogs."
"Barely," I mutter. But my heart swells with pride. I have conquered the trials of newspaper delivery!
With bills and coins in my pocket and a newfound respect for paperboys, I return home. I sink into the couch, victorious.
"Once again, I have defied the odds!"
My stomach growls.
"But also... I am very, very hungry."
And thus, the eternal cycle begins anew.
***
I sit on the sofa, the unholy growling from my stomach echoing through the small apartment. My body slumps in dramatic defeat, but this time—this time, I have something precious. Money. Cold, hard, human currency.
Yet, even with the weight of these crumpled bills in my hand, I am plagued by a single thought.
"I cannot fail again."
Oh, the memory of my glorious downfall still haunts me. Cakes upon cakes, juices flowing like rivers, pastries crumbling under my sheer bliss. It was heaven... until it wasn't. My pockets emptied faster than I could say 'more whipped cream, please.'
But no more! I, Shiwei, Warden of Time, shall not be brought low by my gluttonous desires. I must spend this money... wisely.
"But how does one... do that?"
I frown. Managing money. A human concept both baffling and cruel. The knowledge I seek is not carved in ancient stone or written in the scrolls of destiny. No. It is held captive within my greatest enemy.
The smartphone.
That little demon rests mockingly on the table. How I loathe it. A vile human creation. But even I must admit, it holds power. And as much as I despise relying on its cursed existence, I have no choice.
I glare at it. It glares back. We both know what must be done.
"Alright," I grumble through clenched teeth. "You vile rectangular thing that couldn't even hold a candle against the majestic creation called pastries, I'll trust you again, one last time. Teach me how to manage my money."
The screen flickers to life, and soon, with a few hesitant taps, I discover the mystical realm of 'budgeting tips.' The words on the screen explain the importance of saving, tracking expenses, and limiting indulgences.
"Fascinating," I mumble, narrowing my eyes. "But foolish. Pastries are not a luxury. They are a necessity."
The smartphone, as if reading my treacherous thoughts, dares to suggest otherwise. Yet I dismiss its lies. Today, I have enough pastries. Today, I must see what else humans consume.
"Show me," I command, "what other edible delights this world has to offer."
Images flood my screen. Bowls of rice topped with meats, vegetables, and colorful sauces. A dish called a 'rice bowl.' Simple. Humble. Unlike the divine glory of pastries, yet somehow... intriguing.
"Yes," I nod, my curiosity piqued. "This will do."
I quickly search for a nearby establishment that serves this mysterious dish. The smartphone, now smug in its usefulness, gleefully displays a restaurant just a few minutes away.
"Of course," I mutter bitterly. "You would enjoy this victory, wouldn't you?"
With a dramatic sigh, I rise from the sofa. My enemy may have won this round, but I will return... and I will consume that rice bowl with all the dignity of a true Warden of Time.
Or at least, with as much dignity as a man who once buried a dead lily and declared it a solemn funeral rite.
I step out the door, ready for whatever absurdity awaits me. For today, I dine like a human—and by the end of it, perhaps, I may finally conquer this world of wallets, woes, and... rice.
I strut down the street, dressed in the finest human apparel Horace and Yue bought for me. The mortal world may think I'm just another handsome face, but beneath this perfectly average outfit is a being of ancient wisdom and time-wielding might.
And yet, despite my immeasurable power, I find myself utterly enslaved to the vile rectangle stuffed in my pocket.
"You little menace," I mutter under my breath, glaring at it. "You must be so smug right now. Giving me directions as if I can't navigate the vast rivers of time."
Of course, I can't. Because this damned human city is like a labyrinth designed by a sadistic architect. The smartphone is my only lifeline, but I refuse to let it win.
"You'll slip up eventually," I sneer. "And I'll be free."
The restaurant finally comes into view, a humble little place with a glowing sign displaying a cheerful-looking rice bowl. I stare at it warily. The phone said this was the best spot nearby. I don't trust it. Not for a second.
Stepping inside, I take in the sights and smells. The fragrant aroma of sizzling meat and spices dances through the air, and my stomach rumbles in protest. Ugh. Mortals and their annoyingly delicious food.
I spot an empty table and dramatically throw myself onto the chair, savoring the minor victory of making it here without getting lost. That's right. Shiwei, 1. Smartphone, 0.
Raising my hand with far more flourish than necessary, I call out, "Waiter!"
A young man wearing a painfully boring uniform approaches. I expect immediate service—naturally. But instead, he gives me a look that practically screams, 'You're an idiot.'
"Sir," he says, trying to hide the exasperation in his voice, "you have to order at the counter."
I blink.
"The counter?"
He nods, already walking away. I hate it here.
"Fine," I mutter dramatically, pushing myself to my feet. "But know this, mortal! I shall remember this humiliation."
The counter greets me with an overwhelming display of choices. Rice bowls. Chicken, beef, pork, tofu. Spicy, mild, sweet. Some with eggs, some without. There are... sauces?
"Why are there so many sauces?!" I hiss through gritted teeth. My brain spirals. This is psychological warfare. And worst of all, I know who's behind it.
I narrow my eyes, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the smartphone.
"You. You vile contraption." I glare at it. "You set this up, didn't you? You knew I would be overwhelmed. You wanted this."
The phone, of course, remains smugly silent.
In my desperation, I give in. I pull up the search and type like a disgruntled God.
'Best rice bowl to order.'
Beef Gyudon. A glowing review pops up, praising its tender meat and perfectly seasoned sauce. I scowl at the screen.
"You better be right," I growl, pointing accusingly. "If this sucks, I'm throwing you into a river."
After ordering, I return to my seat, waiting like a king anticipating his feast. Moments later, the steaming bowl of Gyudon arrives, and with it, the delicious scent of victory.
One bite.
"Oh... Oh no."
It's good.
It's really good!
I scowl at the phone again, which somehow radiates smugness despite being a lifeless object.
"You must be so proud of yourself," I mutter. "Congratulations, you got one thing right."
Halfway through devouring my meal, I notice someone. A girl, bubbly and smiling, cleaning tables with unsettling enthusiasm. She hums as she works, radiating sunshine like some kind of cartoon character brought to life.
"What in the name of time is wrong with her?" I mumble. "Nobody enjoys work that much. Is she... broken?"
My curiosity sharpens. Then I see it.
A puddle of water.
My eyes narrow. Time itself whispers the inevitable future to me. I see the moment she steps into it. The arms flailing. The comedic mid-air struggle. The catastrophic crash.
A nosebleed at best. A trip to the ER at worst.
"Well, damn."
It's not like I care, but watching a mortal faceplant might get me banned from my new favorite restaurant. Unacceptable.
Without thinking, I flick my fingers subtly. Time speeds around the puddle. The moisture evaporates rapidly until it's dry as a bone. The girl cheerfully steps over it, unaware she narrowly escaped her tragic fate.
"Hah," I smirk to myself, shoving another bite of Gyudon into my mouth. "I still got it."
The girl's odd cheerfulness lingers in my mind. She's... interesting. I might have to come back and observe her. For research purposes, of course.
I glance at the smartphone one last time.
"At least you were useful for once," I grumble.
It's still smug. I just know it.