Englot Backstory - before the game
It was a Tuesday. She remembered that clearly.
A letter had arrived at her home. Engfa was checking her mail, just as she did every day after her shift. Advertisements went straight to the trash, but something caught her eye—an envelope that had slipped between the colorful papers. Just before tossing it away, she saved it.
In the elevator, curiosity gnawed at her. The official state seal on the envelope made her stomach twist. Her fingers trembled slightly as she tore it open. It took approximately fifteen seconds for the elevator to reach the tenth floor. It took thirty for her to read the letter.
By the time she reached her door, the letter lay open at her feet. Her keys pressed coldly against her cheek as she covered her face with her hands, trying to suppress a gasp. She read the words again. And again.
One million in debt. A gift from her dead father.
The words burned into her mind, imprinted on her memory like a scar. Even when she closed her eyes, the number glared back at her.
And that Tuesday was also the first time she ever lied to Charlotte.
Charlotte had already been home for a few hours, preparing dinner. The scent of garlic and simmering herbs drifted through the air as Engfa pushed the door open, her composure barely intact. The letter, now neatly folded and tucked deep inside her bag, felt heavier than it should have.
"Good day?" Charlotte called out from the kitchen, her voice warm beneath the hum of the range hood.
A pause. Barely noticeable. But it was there.
"Yeah, nothing special. And you?" Engfa's voice was thinner than usual. If Charlotte hadn't been distracted by the clattering of pans, she might have caught it.
That night, Engfa chose to lie. She would find a way to fix this. Somehow.
The nightmare began. All her economy, all her salary. Everymonth she gave it all to the debt collector. Keeping Charlotte away from her problem was a torture. Charlotte always joyful wanted to go out, to have dinner at this new place that just opened. Engfa would always refuse. Charlotte couldn’t understand why.
“What’s wrong, you’re not ok, I can see that”
Engfa had denied it all, she couldn’t say it. She was too deep into the lie.
Two months later, the news arrived: if she couldn't pay, part of her debt would be settled by seizing her apartment. And that was Charlotte that discovered it first. She had opened Engfa’s mail. Finding her lover's behavior more and more suspicious.
Engfa got home late, exhausted from her double shift. Only to find a heartbroken and helpless Charlotte at her feet. All that Engfa had been wanting to avoid was playing in front of her.
“We’ll figure this out, I promise” She had told Charlotte.
Turns out promises are just words. And money is more powerful than words.
The apartment was taken from Engfa.
Charlotte had moved back to her father's house. And Engfa—she found herself in a tiny maid's room. Barely larger than a closet. A bed. A sink. That was it. The shared kitchen and bathroom were down the hall, cold and dirty.
Distant in places, distant in heart, Engfa was keeping Charlotte away from her, by shame, and because she wanted to protect her from all this mess.
One evening, as she lay awake staring at the cracked ceiling, her phone buzzed. A message from Charlotte.
"We never see each other anymore."
A tear slipped down Engfa's cheek, soaking silently into her pillow. Dragging Charlotte into her mess was the last thing she ever wanted. It would be easier to let her go.
With a deep breath and a heart heavy with pain, she typed out words that left her bleeding while typing
"Charlotte, given the situation, I think we should break up. It's better if we just stay friends."
The response didn't come immediately. A day passed. Then another. Time blurred,. In misery, an hour was eternity.
Charlotte finally replied, her words alive—aching with truth:
“I could never be just friends with you. Your eyes remind me of the nights we spent together.
And I cannot look into your eyes—the same eyes where I once saw our future—and pretend I see nothing at all."