Leslie feigned indifference as the unknown figure—a man she had known for decades—boasted about winning a hundred grand and quitting his job to open a gambling den. Deep down, however, she felt deeply unsettled, questioning if this man before her was truly the same man she once knew.
Attempting to remain rational, she treated her friend like a suspect, filtering his story to isolate the relevant facts while compartmentalizing the bizarre details in the back of her mind. Yet, none of her professional training could explain how a retired government official had transformed into a wanted casino kingpin—let alone one capable of teleporting from the street to the roof of a skyscraper. If anyone had told her this story, she would have dismissed it as fiction, yet every impossible detail was true.
Struggling to focus on the immediate task of descending from their high-altitude vantage point, Leslie realized she couldn't think critically while her leg throbbed with a persistent, sickening pain. She knew her first priority upon reaching the ground floor would be a hospital; the odd sensation in her limb made her certain she was heading straight for an amputation.
Leslie gestured toward the unknown figure, asking for his support as she struggled up the service stairs. Between breaths, she teased him about whether he couldn't simply teleporting her down to the ground floor— and how effortless that would be compared to the painful climb, like gliding smoothly on a ride instead of enduring each step.
She longed for the relief of a wheelchair, the kind of ease that would spare her the unbearable pain pressing into her body with every movement. Leaning against her partner, she imagined the sensation of rolling freely across slopes and flat surfaces, and for a fleeting moment felt she understood the liberation—and dependence—that those bound to wheelchairs experienced.
***
Meanwhile, the unknown figure's thoughts wandered elsewhere. His arm steadying Leslie as she hopped step by step, the rhythm of her uneven gait faded into the background. His mind drifted to Jasmine—his uncertain girlfriend—and the fragile state of their relationship. Ever since returning from China, he had been haunted by inexplicable experiences that gnawed at him.
First, there was the strange acquisition of knowledge: a "low‑level system language" he somehow understood without ever studying. Then came the vision—a red, glowing screen that seemed both present and unreal—displaying his "Aspect Ability Description": a slight chance to tilt things to your favour. He dismissed it as a poetic way of saying he was lucky, never questioning what price such luck might demand.
But fragments of memory unsettled him. He recalled the night he had, without thought, sent Jasmine and a group of weary girls away past midnight—a decision that struck him later as cold, even inhuman. His reflection deepened when his powers manifested fully: teleporting from a shadowed alley to the roof of a skyscraper, a feat that confirmed the surreal reality he was living.
Confusion gnawed at him, the sense of acting without control or understanding. With growing resolve, he vowed to confront the truth of his condition. He knew that ignoring the lessons of the past would only doom him to repeat them, and so he chose to put his mental health first—determined to uncover what was wrong before it consumed him.
Shortly after setting his resolve, his phone lit up with a stylish set of characters that represented —Jasmine. He hesitated, torn between answering and ignoring it. Leslie, curious, leaned closer to see who was calling at such a fraught moment. When her eyes caught the name, a faint blush spread across her face. She quickly looked away, stumbling slightly, but before she could fall the unknown figure steadied her. Even then, she kept her gaze averted, refusing to meet his eyes.
He noticed her subtle reaction but chose not to dwell on it. Instead, his mind wrestled with the weight of the decision before him. Though he had already leaned toward one path, he longed for a stronger reason—something undeniable—to guide him.
He weighed the call's meaning. Answering could mean embracing a life of passion and companionship, living each day as if it were his last, sharing adventures with Jasmine. Yet the darker side loomed: a life on the run, fragile relationships, constant vigilance against the mysterious figure pursuing him. Worse still, he would be dragging Jasmine—and perhaps others—into danger.
Ignoring the call, by contrast, promised safety. He would remain one step ahead of his pursuer, protecting others from harm. Though it meant losing Jasmine, he would still have Leslie's friendship, uncomplicated and steady. It would be a quieter life, perhaps less thrilling, but one that ensured survival.
Convinced this was the wiser choice, he nevertheless did the unexpected—he answered. Jasmine's voice trembled with tears. He consoled her, promising to show only the best version of himself. Moved by his words, she forgave him, told him where she was, and asked him to come. He agreed, ending the call with kisses and a gentle goodbye.
Yet when they finally reached the ground floor of the skyscraper, he lingered beside Leslie instead of hailing a cab. His actions hinted at the decision he had truly made—the one he believed was "right."