Jason stared at the system panel, then at Sarah, then back at the panel, like maybe if he looked between them enough times the math would start making sense.
Twenty-five percent attraction. A 1.25x rebate multiplier.
His brain, which had spent the last twenty minutes treating thirty-two dollars and fifty cents like a personal vendetta from the universe, suddenly started doing something dangerous.
Thinking
Spend money to get money back. Genius. A financial strategy that would either save his phone or leave him explaining to Max why he now needed a payment plan, depending entirely on whether the floating pink screen was real or the most elaborate hallucination in recorded history.
He glanced at Sarah, sitting across from him, completely unaware she’d just become a load-bearing pillar in his emergency economic policy.
She caught him looking. "What?"
"Nothing." He gave her his most innocent smile, which going by her expression landed somewhere between suspicious and actively planning a crime. He’d never been gifted at innocent. He had the kind of face that made people assume he was hiding something even when he wasn’t, which today, admittedly, he was.
Fortunately, she let it go.
Okay. Test it. Carefully
He had $147.50 to his name and a $180 bill waiting for him back at the shop, which meant he had exactly enough room for one terrible decision before his phone became a very expensive paperweight. He looked around the café.
That’s right, food.
They were at a café, she was here, he had money, and the system allegedly turned spending into profit the whole situation was basically daring him to do something stupid.
Fine. He could at least buy them something. Normal people did that on dates. Probably. His prior romantic experience mostly consisted of liking someone for several months, confessing, and getting professionally rejected, so he wasn’t exactly working from a deep well of expertise here.
"Give me a second," he said, already standing.
Sarah blinked. "For what?"
"Getting us something."
Her eyebrows lifted, and there was a small pause in which Jason realized he’d somehow made grabbing café food sound like a proposal.
He cleared his throat. "We’re here anyway. Might as well eat."
Her expression softened. "That’s actually really thoughtful."
Thoughtful? Dangerous word
He was used to quiet, weird, occasionally are you okay not thoughtful
"Don’t get used to it. Still the same person."
She smiled. "Go."
"Yes, ma’am."
He left before he could undo whatever goodwill he’d apparently just banked. His confidence lasted about six steps, right up until he saw the menu board.
Burgers and Fries: Twenty five dollars. Chicken sandwich meal: Twenty dollars. Two drinks on top of that pushed the whole thing past seventy one dollars
He glanced sideways at the system, hovering there, silent, smug in a way a piece of text had no business being.
You’d better not make me regret this
No response, obviously. It could display his financial ruin in glowing blue text but apparently couldn’t manage a simple yes or no when it actually mattered.
Smaller, he needed something smaller
Then he remembered Sarah had pointed something out when they first walked up, something cold and sweet she clearly loved but he couldn’t clearly remember what it was called
The girl at the register had a name tag slightly crooked and an apron dusted with something that might’ve been cinnamon and might’ve been the remains of a hard morning.
"Hi, what can I get you?"
"Do you guys sell the–!" he gestured vaguely, already regretting the sentence
"–the iced sugar thing?"
Her eyebrows went up. "The iced caramel latte?"
"That." He snapped his fingers like he’d known that the whole time and simply chosen not to say it. He had, in fact, heard the words iced and sugar and decided that was close enough to a menu item.
"Just the one?"
He glanced back and Sarah was still outside, scrolling her phone, no idea her caffeine addiction was currently funding a controlled financial experiment
"Yeah. One."
Small test. Smart test. A scientific approach
He nodded to himself, genuinely proud, like a man who’d just invented budgeting
Look at me being financially responsible. The universe is definitely not laughing right now
"That’ll be ten sixty."
His confidence promptly left the building. He looked at the latte. Then his card. Then the system, hovering there with all the emotional availability of a brick.
"Must you always do this?"
The cashier blinked.
"Nothing," Jason said quickly, and tapped his card before he could think better of it.
The payment went through. Nothing happened. One second. Two. Three. His fingers curled against his palm.
Maybe it needs processing time. Like a bank transfer. Or dial-up
Five seconds. Still nothing, and his stomach started a slow, dedicated descent toward the floor.
Oh, no
Max’s number flashed through his head one hundred and eighty dollars, and he now had, what, a hundred and thirty-six? Less? He could already hear the explanation he’d have to give
Why can’t you pay for your phone? Well, funny story, I bought an overpriced latte because an invisible screen told me it’d make me rich.
Extremely believable. He was going to die of embarrassment well before the kidney sale became necessary.
Then the panel bloomed in front of him, and every other thought in his head went quiet.
TRANSACTION COMPLETE
Purchase Amount: $10.60
Rebate Multiplier: 1.25x
Rebate Issued: $13.25
Net Gain: $2.65
Account Balance: $150.15
Jason stared. Read it again, in case the first read had been wishful thinking wearing a disguise.
It worked
Two dollars and sixty-five cents, and it was possibly the best money he’d never quite spent in his life. He wanted to laugh out loud in the middle of a café over two dollars and sixty-five cents, which was either deeply pathetic or the first real proof he wasn’t losing his mind and at this point, honestly, he’d take either one.
He glanced around. Nobody had noticed. Sarah was still outside, still on her phone, still blissfully unaware she was now, functionally, a financial instrument. The cashier was already pulling his drink from the machine.
His shoulders loosened for the first time since Max had said one hundred and eighty dollars out loud. The bill that had felt impossible ten minutes ago suddenly didn’t not because he had the money yet, but because he’d just found a way to get it.
He picked up the latte when she handed it over. Ten dollars and sixty cents. The most expensive cup of sugar he’d ever bought.
Then he did the math again and smiled wider. Technically, it had cost him nothing.
Technically, he’d just made two sixty-five.
The kidney’s safe
He thought, heading back out into the evening air
For now