The Price of Desperation
Arisu, Karube, and Chota had always been inseparable. From high school to their aimless adult years, they had stuck together through thick and thin. But life had not been kind to them. Arisu, once a promising student, had dropped out of college, wasting his days on video games and avoiding his responsibilities. Karube, who had dreamed of running his own bar, had lost his job after punching his boss for mistreating a coworker. Chota, burdened by a sick mother and mounting medical bills, struggled to support his family on a meager salary.
One fateful night, Arisu found himself at rock bottom. His father had finally had enough, kicking him out with nowhere to go. He wandered the city with Karube and Chota, feeling like a burden, wishing for a way to start over. The neon lights of the streets flickered around them, casting long shadows as they walked aimlessly through the night.
“I can’t keep doing this,” Arisu muttered, dragging his feet along the pavement. “Maybe my dad’s right. Maybe I’m just a waste of space.”
“Don’t start with that bullshit,” Karube said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Your old man’s always been an ass. You’re not worthless. You just need to figure things out.”
“Figure things out?” Arisu let out a dry laugh. “I don’t even know where to start. It’s not like a solution’s just going to fall into our laps.”
Chota sighed. “You think we do? I work nonstop, and it’s still not enough. My mom’s hospital bills keep piling up, and I don’t even know if we’ll be able to pay rent this month.”
Karube kicked a stray can down the street. “Yeah, well, at least you’re trying. Me? I threw away my job because I couldn’t shut up when I should’ve. Now I’m back at square one, and no one’s going to hire me after that.”
They walked in silence for a while, the weight of their problems pressing down on them. The streets were empty, except for the occasional passerby who barely spared them a glance. The buzz of distant traffic and the hum of city life continued, indifferent to their struggles.
Then, a man appeared before them. His suit was sharp, almost too perfect against the grittiness of the city. His expression was unreadable but not unkind, and the slight smirk on his lips hinted at something calculated.
“Well, well. You three look like you’ve had a rough night,” the stranger said, his voice smooth and knowing. He held up a small briefcase, tapping a finger against it. “How about a game?”
Arisu narrowed his eyes. “A game?”
The man smiled. “It’s simple. You play, you win, you get money. You lose… well, you might feel a little sting, but nothing permanent.”
Karube scoffed. “What kind of scam is this? You some kind of con artist?”
“No scam,” the man assured them. “Just an opportunity. And judging by the way you’re wandering around with nowhere to go, I’d say you could use one.”
Chota hesitated, his eyes flicking to the briefcase. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Just a chance to change your lives.” The man knelt slightly, opening the briefcase just enough for them to glimpse the stacks of crisp bills inside. “Interested?”
Arisu exchanged a glance with his friends. The tension in the air was thick, uncertainty lingering between them. But in the end, the truth was simple—they had nothing to lose. Desperate and out of options, they accepted, unaware of what awaited them.
𖧋
Usagi’s struggles were different but no less severe. Ever since her father’s tragic death, she had fought to uphold his legacy as a climber, taking on sponsorships and extreme challenges to survive. But injuries mounted, and so did the medical bills. A bad contract with an exploitative sponsor left her drowning in debt, forcing her to take part-time jobs just to eat. The world of competitive climbing was ruthless, and sponsors only cared about results. When an accident sidelined her for months, they abandoned her without a second thought, leaving her with no way to pay off her expenses.
The desperation weighed on her like a boulder, crushing the dreams she had once clung to so tightly. She sat on the floor of her tiny apartment, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the pile of unopened bills. The dim light from her one working lamp flickered, casting shadows across the peeling walls. Her fingers trembled as she checked her bank account on her phone—negative. Again.
“What am I supposed to do?” she whispered to herself. “There’s nothing left.”
A sudden knock at the door made her flinch. Her breath caught in her throat. No one ever visited her. Was it the landlord? Another debt collector? Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet and cracked the door open.
The man standing there was unlike anyone she had expected. He was well-dressed, clean-cut, and entirely out of place in her rundown apartment complex. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked neatly into his pockets, and his smile was knowing, almost rehearsed.
“Usagi Yuzuha,” he greeted smoothly. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Usagi’s grip on the door tightened. “Who are you?”
“Just someone offering a chance,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “A game, if you’re interested.”
She frowned. “A game?”
The man nodded and took a step back, revealing a small black case he had set beside him. “Play, and you could win more money than you’ve ever dreamed of. Lose… well, let’s just say it won’t be the worst thing that’s happened to you.”
Usagi’s pulse quickened. It was too good to be true. People like her didn’t get lucky breaks. “And if I say no?”
His smile didn’t falter. “Then I walk away, and you go back to staring at those bills, hoping for a miracle that will never come.”
Her jaw clenched. Every rational part of her screamed to shut the door in his face. But deep down, another part of her—the part that had climbed to the highest peaks, fought through every hardship—whispered that this might be her only way out.
She exhaled sharply. “Tell me more.”
𖧋
Chishiya had always preferred to stay in the background, observing the world with detached amusement. He had no illusions about how society worked—money and power dictated everything. As a doctor, he had seen firsthand how politics and corruption infected the medical field. But it wasn’t until a scandal shook the hospital that he found himself personally affected.
The incident had been inevitable. A new doctor, still clinging to their ideals, had refused to comply with the supervisor’s wishes to prioritize the child of an incredibly rich businessman over the originally scheduled patient. The supervisor, fearing backlash, allowed the operation to proceed as planned. The businessman’s child didn’t survive the procedure, and in his grief and fury, he sued the hospital for everything it was worth. The case had been swift, the verdict decisive. With nowhere else to turn, the hospital was forced to take money from its staff to cover the damages. Salaries were slashed, bonuses disappeared, and even the most skilled doctors found themselves buried in financial ruin.
Chishiya had always been aware of how fragile institutions were, but even he hadn’t expected things to crumble so quickly. He sat at a café, watching as his colleagues sent panicked messages, calculating how much they had lost. Some talked about leaving, others about fighting back. Chishiya, however, had no illusions.
“Idiots,” he muttered, stirring his coffee lazily. “They should’ve seen this coming.”
His debts weren’t as severe as others, but they were enough to be a problem. Hospitals had blacklisted anyone connected to the scandal, fearing reputational damage. He could still practice medicine, but his career was effectively over before it had truly begun. He had money saved, but that wouldn’t last forever.
As he took another sip of coffee, a man slid into the seat across from him without invitation. Chishiya barely lifted his gaze. The man’s suit was immaculate, his expression calm, controlled. There was something too precise about him, too intentional, and that piqued Chishiya’s interest more than anything else.
“You’re not surprised,” the man noted, studying him.
Chishiya smirked. “I don’t like surprises.”
The man chuckled, setting a black case on the table between them. “Then you’ll like this. It’s a game. Simple rules, big rewards. Play, and you could walk away with enough money to clear your debts. Lose… well, let’s just say you’re used to unfair losses by now.”
Chishiya leaned back, tapping his fingers against his cup. “And what makes you think I’m interested?”
The man’s smirk widened. “Because you’re still listening.”
Silence stretched between them. Chishiya could feel the weight of the offer pressing down on him, not in an oppressive way, but in a way that demanded consideration. He could leave, ignore this stranger, and find another way out of his situation. But something told him that this was no ordinary invitation.
He had always been good at reading people. The salesman was confident, not desperate. That meant the game wasn’t some small-time scam—it was something bigger. Something worth paying attention to.
Finally, Chishiya exhaled through his nose, a ghost of a smirk curling at his lips. “Alright,” he said, reaching for the case. “Let’s play.”
𖧋
Kuina, once full of dreams, had fallen into a vicious cycle of debt after trying to escape her past. She had spent years fighting against the expectations forced upon her, cutting ties with her father and carving her own path. But freedom came at a cost. With no support system, she had to fend for herself, taking whatever jobs she could to survive. Working at a seedy nightclub barely kept her afloat, and any attempt at a fresh start was met with rejection.
She had tried to save money, to build a life where she could finally be herself, but the world wasn’t so kind. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. One night, as she was finishing her shift, she heard the heavy footsteps behind her before she saw them. Three men blocked the alleyway exit, their expressions unreadable, but their intent was clear. Her boss had owed money to the wrong people, and now that he was gone, they had come to collect.
“I don’t have anything to do with him,” Kuina said coldly, shifting into a defensive stance. “Take it up with someone else.”
One of the men chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “That’s not how this works. He ran, so his debts fell to whoever’s left behind. And lucky for us, that’s you.”
She clenched her fists. “I don’t owe you shit.”
The largest of the three stepped forward. “Then you’d better start figuring out how to pay. Because if you don’t, we’ll take what we’re owed another way.”
She had no time to think, no time to plan. The first one lunged, and instinct took over. Years of training, of fighting to survive, surged through her veins. She struck fast, dodging one, landing a sharp elbow to another’s jaw. The third grabbed her wrist, but she twisted free, landing a kick straight to his ribs. One of them went down, groaning in pain. The others hesitated just long enough for her to escape.
She ran through the streets, her pulse hammering, adrenaline masking the bruises forming on her arms. She had won the fight, but it didn’t matter. By the next morning, she was fired, her things thrown into the street like trash. The debts, the threats—they weren’t going away. She had nowhere left to go.
Sitting on a bench at a dimly lit train station, she exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. That was when she noticed him. A man in a crisp suit, watching her from a short distance away. When their eyes met, he smiled, stepping forward like he had all the time in the world.
“You fight well,” he remarked, his voice smooth, calculated.
Kuina eyed him warily. “Who the hell are you?”
“Someone offering a way out.” He gestured toward the black case in his hand. “A game. Play, and you could wipe your debts clean. Lose, and… well, you strike me as someone who enjoys a challenge.”
She scoffed. “Sounds like a scam.”
He chuckled. “Maybe. But right now, you don’t have many options, do you?”
Kuina stared at him, weighing her choices. She had spent years fighting for her freedom, for control over her own life. The world had only given her dead ends, but this—this was different. It was a gamble, yes, but for once, she had the power to choose.
Her lips curled into a smirk. “Alright,” she said. “Deal me in.”
𖧋
Tatta’s debt was born from misplaced trust. He had poured everything into a failing business, convinced that loyalty and hard work would lead to success. When his so-called business partner vanished with their investment, Tatta was left to shoulder the blame. Eviction notices piled up, and desperation took hold. He had spent months searching for a way to fix everything, taking odd jobs that barely covered the interest on his loans. No matter how hard he worked, the numbers never seemed to go down.
He had tried to stay hopeful, to believe that things would turn around. But sitting on the floor of his empty apartment, surrounded by nothing but peeling wallpaper and the distant hum of traffic outside, hope felt like a cruel joke. His furniture was gone, taken by debt collectors. Even his worn-out mattress had been dragged away, leaving him with nothing but a pile of old clothes for a bed. He stared at the final notice in his hands, the words blurring together.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now?” he muttered. His voice sounded hollow in the empty room.
A knock at the door made him flinch. He wasn’t expecting anyone. For a brief second, he thought it might be his old business partner, back to fix everything. But when he opened the door, the man standing there was a stranger—clean-cut, confident, and far too well-dressed for this run-down building.
“Tatsuya Tatta,” the man greeted smoothly, his hands tucked into his pockets. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Tatta frowned. “Yeah? Well, if you’re here to collect, you’re out of luck.”
The man chuckled. “I’m not a debt collector.” He lifted a small black case and tapped a finger against it. “I’m here to offer you a way out.”
Tatta crossed his arms, wary. “A way out?”
“A game,” the man said simply. “Play, and you could win enough money to erase your debts. Lose, and… well, let’s just say it won’t be the worst thing that’s happened to you.”
Tatta scoffed. “Right. And what’s the catch?”
“No catch,” the man replied, tilting his head slightly. “Just an opportunity. One that people in your situation don’t get very often.”
Tatta hesitated. It had to be a scam. Nothing in life came for free, and every so-called opportunity he’d taken had led him deeper into this mess. But at the same time… what other choice did he have?
He glanced back into his apartment, at the empty space where his life used to be. No bed, no table, no future. He had spent years believing in second chances, trusting that good things came to those who worked hard. But the world didn’t work like that.
His fists clenched. If the world wanted to play games, then fine. He’d play.
Tatta looked back at the man, his jaw set. “Alright,” he said. “I’m in.”
𖧋
Ann had always been methodical, precise. Her job as a forensic scientist had given her stability, a clear path in life that she had followed without question. But after a false accusation ruined her career, she found herself blacklisted, unable to find work in the very field she had dedicated her life to. Legal battles drained her funds, and she soon realized that truth had no value in a world that thrived on deception. She had always believed in logic, in the idea that justice would prevail, but reality had shattered that belief.
Her name had been dragged through the mud, her reputation destroyed by forces she couldn't fight against. No lab would take her, no firm would hire her, and the once-bright future she had envisioned had crumbled to nothing. With her savings gone and no job opportunities in sight, she faced an impossible choice. Every door she knocked on was slammed in her face, every appeal she filed was dismissed without a second glance. The system she had trusted had turned against her, leaving her to fight alone.
Ann stood in the hallway of her apartment complex, staring at the foreclosure notice taped to her door. She read the words over and over, as if doing so would somehow change them. But they remained the same—cold, final, and utterly indifferent to her situation. The weight of it pressed down on her, but she refused to let her frustration show.
"Figures," she muttered, ripping the paper down. "Guess I should've seen this coming."
The sound of footsteps behind her made her stiffen. She turned, her sharp eyes locking onto the figure standing at the other end of the dimly lit hallway. The man was well-dressed, his suit crisp and his expression unreadable. He stood with an air of quiet confidence, as if he had been waiting for her.
"Ann Rizuna," he greeted smoothly, his voice measured. "I’ve been looking for you."
Ann narrowed her eyes. "And you are?"
"Someone offering you an opportunity." He took a step closer, slipping his hands into his pockets. "A game, if you’re interested."
She scoffed. "A game? That’s what you came all this way for?"
He didn’t flinch. "Play, and you could win enough money to rebuild your life. Lose… and, well, I imagine you've already faced worse."
Ann studied him carefully. Everything about him was calculated—the way he spoke, the way he carried himself. He was waiting for a reaction, expecting her to ask questions.
Instead, she tilted her head. "And what makes you think I’m desperate enough to trust a stranger?"
The salesman smiled faintly. "Because people like you—people who understand how the world really works—don’t have many choices left." He reached down, tapping a sleek black case beside him. "You’ve seen how the system treats those who play fair. Maybe it’s time to stop playing by their rules."
Ann exhaled slowly, considering his words. He wasn’t wrong. The world had already chewed her up and spat her out, leaving her with nothing but a hollow sense of betrayal. She had spent years believing that facts, evidence, and truth would protect her. But the truth hadn’t saved her—it had only made her a target.
She glanced back at her empty apartment, at the walls she would soon lose. Then she looked at the man again, meeting his gaze without hesitation.
"If the world is a game," she said, stepping forward, "then I’ll learn the rules and play to win."
𖧋
Then there was Niragi—once an elite university student, now a reckless delinquent. His debts weren’t just financial; they were personal. Expelled for violent behavior and cut off by his wealthy family, he had fallen into a life of chaos. Drugs, underground fights, and a never-ending hunger for destruction had left him owing people he could never repay. His name was on multiple hit lists, and the walls were closing in.
Sitting on the edge of a rusted rooftop, Niragi lit a cigarette, watching the city lights blur beneath him. His lip was split, blood dried against his skin from his latest fight. He laughed to himself, low and bitter. "Tch. What a joke," he muttered, flicking ash into the wind. "They really think they can scare me?"
He didn’t fear death, but he hated the idea of being controlled. Every debt collector, every gang that wanted his head—they all thought they could own him. He thrived on proving them wrong. As the sound of footsteps echoed behind him, he exhaled a lazy breath of smoke. "Took you long enough," he said without turning around.
The man standing behind him chuckled. "I expected someone like you to be harder to track down."
Niragi glanced over his shoulder, unimpressed. The man was dressed too cleanly for the filth of the city streets, his suit crisp, his expression unreadable. "Yeah? Well, you’re lucky I’m in a good mood." He smirked, tapping his cigarette. "What do you want?"
The salesman tilted his head slightly. "I have an offer."
Niragi scoffed. "Not interested."
"You haven’t even heard what it is."
"Doesn’t matter." He leaned back on his hands, grinning. "People like you? You only show up when someone’s desperate." His dark eyes glinted. "And I don’t beg."
The salesman remained unfazed. "It’s not begging. It’s an opportunity. A game."
That caught Niragi’s attention. He raised an eyebrow, finally giving the man his full focus. "A game, huh?" His grin widened. "What’s the prize?"
"Money. Enough to wipe your debts clean." The salesman tapped the black case beside him. "And all you have to do is win."
Niragi let the silence stretch between them, weighing his options. It wasn’t like he had much left to lose. Every day was a gamble—one more fight, one more bad decision, one more chance to get himself killed. At least this way, he could play on his own terms.
He crushed his cigarette beneath his boot and stood up, stretching lazily. "Alright, you’ve got my attention." He shoved his hands into his pockets, smirking. "But just so you know… I don’t play fair."
The salesman smiled, as if that was exactly what he had expected. "Good. You’ll fit right in."
𖧋
Each of them played the same game—a simple test of chance and reflexes, slapping down the colored tiles in exchange for cash. The rules were deceptively easy: win, and they’d get money; lose, and they’d take a hit. The first round was always the same—hesitation, calculation, the brief moment where they thought they could outthink the game. Then came the sting of the first slap. It didn’t matter who they were or how they approached it. Caution, aggression, arrogance—it all ended the same way, with the sharp crack of skin against skin and the salesman’s unwavering smirk.
Arisu flinched at the impact, his cheek burning as he clenched his fists. Usagi’s fingers trembled, not from fear, but from frustration, her instincts pushing her to adapt, to move faster. Chishiya, ever the observer, barely reacted, adjusting his strategy after each loss with cold precision. Kuina cursed under her breath, shaking the sting out of her fingers before slamming her next tile down even harder. Tatta hesitated before every move, overthinking each step, but eventually, desperation overpowered his nerves. Ann barely blinked at the slaps, calculating the rhythm, the angles, treating it like a puzzle to be solved. Niragi, on the other hand, grinned through every hit, laughing as if he were enjoying the pain just as much as the game itself.
The salesman’s amusement never wavered. He watched each of them with the same knowing expression, as if he had already foreseen every reaction, every desperate attempt to regain control. He didn’t just observe their reflexes—he studied their breaking points. How far would they go for money? How much would they endure before giving up? Each loss chipped away at their hesitation. Each slap reminded them just how powerless they were. And then, finally, they won.
The moment of victory was different for each of them. Some gasped, dazed and disoriented, still reeling from the blows. Others trembled with exhilaration, the taste of triumph momentarily washing away the sting. Kuina clenched the winning tile so tightly her knuckles turned white. Chishiya’s lips curled into the faintest smirk, as if he had expected nothing less. Niragi tilted his head back and let out a wild laugh, licking the blood from his split lip.
And then, the reward. A crisp envelope, handed over with an almost casual finality. Inside, neatly folded, was an invitation. The paper was smooth, expensive, carrying the weight of something far bigger than a simple game. Printed in stark, bold lettering were the words that would change everything.
A chance to erase their debts. A chance to start over. A chance to win.
But beneath the promise was something unspoken, lingering in the air like an unspoken warning. Once they stepped into this new game, there would be no turning back.