She Said We’d Be Rich

All of a sudden, I remembered.

That night, Lydia had drunk too much. She said she was going to hide the lottery ticket somewhere absolutely safe, a place only the two of us knew.

She said it was our secret base, the starting point of our comeback.

That secret base was under the overpass, not far from here.

She had even piled all the Hermès bags she bought there, saying they needed to soak up some good fortune.

Yes. As long as I found those Hermès bags, I could prove I had money. I could prove Lydia was real.

I scrambled up from the ground and started running, ignoring the pain all over my body.

This time, I was smarter. I deliberately chose narrow side paths without surveillance cameras.

It always felt like there were eyes on my back, watching me.

I did not dare turn around. I could only run harder.

One of my shoes flew off somewhere along the way, and I kicked the other one away not long after. Bare feet slammed onto gravel-strewn paths, each step sharp with pain.

However, I could not feel it. My mind was full of those boxes. They were my hope.

I darted into an alley, crashing around like a headless fly, until at last the familiar yet strange shadow of the underpass appeared in front of me.

A wave of rot and decay hit my face, nearly making me vomit.

Under the bridge was a mountain of trash and broken junk: torn sofas, ruined mattresses, and chairs missing legs.

"Hermès. My Hermès."

I plunged into the garbage pile, not caring about the filthy liquid soaking my hands.

I flipped open a sheet of old newspaper, and a corner of orange peeked out.

In that instant, I almost cried from excitement.

I knew it. I knew I was not crazy.

That was an Hermès shopping bag.

It lay next to a woven sack, a little dirty but unmistakably bright.

With trembling hands, I dug it out and clutched it to my chest.

"I found it. I finally found it.

"Austin, let's see how you'll deny this when I shove it in your face.

"You can hide people, you can tamper with data, but you can't make physical things disappear."

I was sure Lydia was hiding nearby. She had to be avoiding Austin, too.

"Lydia, come out. I've found it!

"We don't have to be afraid anymore. With these bags, we can turn them into cash!"

I shouted into the empty space beneath the bridge.

I could not wait to see the bag worth hundreds of thousands.

It was crocodile leather. Even secondhand, it would sell for a fortune.

I untied the knotted string around the sack, my fingernails digging into it until two snapped off, but I did not stop.

Finally, the opening came loose.

I reached inside, expecting to touch soft leather.

Instead, my fingers hit something cold and hard.

I flipped the sack over in one violent motion.

With a loud clatter, a moldy piece of bread and several empty water bottles spilled onto the ground.

The stench rushed straight into my head, my stomach twisting violently.

I gagged.

Staring at the trash on the ground, I muttered, "How could this be? It was clearly Hermès. It was clearly orange."

I picked up the so-called shopping bag and looked at it closely.

It was just an ordinary plastic bag.

There was no carriage logo at all. Only two printed words.

[Happy Supermarket]

"Argh!"

I tore the bag to shreds and screamed inside the underpass.

"Come out! Come out here! Stop messing with me!

"Lydia! This isn't funny at all!"

Just then, a shadow fell across the garbage pile.

Against the light, a figure stood at the mouth of the underpass, blocking out the sun.

That tailored suit looked grotesquely out of place among the filth.

Austin.

He held a folder in his hand, his face dark.

Step by step, he advanced toward me, shoes splashing through the filthy water on the ground.