My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars.

She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up."

We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen.

On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package.

Excited, I entered the password she had given me.

"Beep. Incorrect password."

I was just about to try again.

Then, the door opened.

The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit.

He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?"

I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?"

The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

The man looked me up and down as I shoved my hand against the security door just before it closed.

"Don't play dumb with me!

"This apartment was bought outright by Lydia Zaydn last week!"

I jammed my fingers into the narrowing gap, the door biting down until my knuckles turned red.

"To celebrate moving in, we even went shopping at Hermès yesterday!

"This is the password Lydia gave me. Who are you supposed to be?"

I shouted as I tried to squeeze inside, but the man was much stronger than I expected. No matter how hard I pushed, I could not get in.

He braced one hand against the doorframe and casually flicked dust from the sleeve of his suit with the other.

"Miss, if you want to scam someone, can you at least use a smarter trick? I've seen plenty of obsessive fans like you. But there's no celebrity living here. Just me, an ordinary businessman.

"If you keep trying to force your way in, I'll have security come up and throw you out."

I pulled out my phone and flipped through my contacts.

"Just wait! I'm calling Lydia right now!

"I'll have her come up and confront you in person!

"Let's see how you beg us for forgiveness then. This is trespassing!"

My fingers trembled as I tapped the contact labeled 'Baby Lydia.' After the call connected, I turned the speaker volume all the way up. The ringing echoed down the hallway.

The man crossed his arms and leaned against the door, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Pick up already. Where did that stupid girl run off to?

"Didn't she say she was just getting a package?"

A voice from the phone replied, "Sorry, the user you dialed is temporarily unavailable."

The call ended.

My face burned. Refusing to give up, I called again, then again, three times in total.

Every call went unanswered.

The man scoffed.

"Finished acting? If you're done, get lost."

"I'm not acting! I have proof! I have a photo of the property deed! Lydia sent it to me!"

I frantically searched through my phone's media folder, my fingers flying across the screen. When I finally found the image, I shoved the phone in front of his face.

"Open your damn eyes and look! The property owner is Lydia!

"There's even an official red seal! You think this can be fake? This is the most luxurious condo in the country, Luxuria Heights!"

He barely glanced at the screen and did not even bother to look at me properly.

"Miss, next time you fake something, at least hire someone more professional."

He lifted a finger and pointed at my phone from a distance.

"The registration number format on this deed is from five years ago. It's been obsolete for ages.

"And this official seal? Just look at the color. It's clearly painted on with basic computer software.

"The most ridiculous part is the size. My place is a duplex with a registered area of 400 square meters. Yours says 200."

With every sentence, the blood drained from my face, and my hands began to shake.

"That's impossible. Lydia sent this to me. She wouldn't lie to me."

I argued, but my voice had grown faint.

Before I could react, the elevator doors slid open.

Two uniformed security guards rushed out.

"Mr. Austin Grant, we're terribly sorry. This was our oversight. We accidentally let this woman in."

One guard stepped forward and twisted my arm behind my back. A sharp pain shot through me, and tears burst out instantly.

"Your name is Austin? What's your relationship with Lydia?

"Let me go! What right do you have to grab me? I'm a friend of the homeowner!

"Lydia! Lydia, you useless girl! Come out and save me! I'm being attacked!"

I kicked wildly, my high heels scraping black streaks across the floor. The other guard, irritated by the noise, clamped a hand over my mouth.

Austin waved his hand dismissively and turned away, closing the door.

The security door shut in front of my eyes as I was dragged into the elevator.

The mirrored wall reflected my current state. My hair was a mess, my makeup smeared into a blur by tears, and the Chanel suit I had bought just yesterday hung wrinkled and rumpled on my body.

"Let go of me! I can walk on my own! If you ruin my clothes, can you afford to pay for them?"

The guard removed his hand from my mouth and looked at me with open disdain.

"Chanel? Take a look at all those loose threads.

"Wearing a fake to Luxuria Heights to scam other people? You must be desperate for money."

They dragged me out of the lobby and dumped me onto the asphalt road inside the compound. My knees slammed into the ground, pain shooting up my legs.

People passing by stopped to stare, pointing at me.

"What are you looking at? Never seen a pretty woman fall before? Get lost!"

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed my bag to cover my face. I wanted to call a car and get out of this horrible place. I wanted to find Lydia and demand an explanation.

However, after digging through every pocket, I remembered.

I did not have a single cent on me.

My salary card, my credit cards, even the few hundred dollars I had secretly saved: all of them were with Lydia.

She said she had won a hundred million, so she would help me keep this small amount and manage it together.

As I looked at the city around me, fear crept in.

Had Lydia really taken the money and disappeared?

Impossible. We had eaten at a Michelin restaurant just the previous day.

That was real black truffle and caviar.

That kind of taste could not possibly be fake.

It had to be that bastard, Austin.

He must have gotten greedy when he saw the money and kidnapped Lydia.

Clenching my teeth, I took off the high heels that had been rubbing my feet raw and carried them in my hand. Barefoot, I stepped onto the asphalt and started walking toward my old place, one step at a time.

I had to go back to the shared apartment.

There had to be clues there.

I walked for a full three hours before I finally arrived at my destination.

Half the streetlights in this residential area were broken, and the air was thick with the stench of open drainage.

As long as I could find the clues Lydia left behind, I would be able to expose Austin's plot.

I climbed up to the sixth floor in the dark, panting as I pulled out my keys. I slid one into the lock, but no matter how hard I turned it, it would not move.

I twisted again and again until red marks bloomed across my palm.

Then came a sharp crack.

The key snapped cleanly inside the lock.

I stared at the broken half still in my hand, completely stunned.

At that moment, the security door swung open from inside.

A middle-aged woman in pajamas blocked the doorway, a spatula still clutched in her hand.

It was our landlord, Mrs. Wesley.

"Well, well. Look at you. A shameless thing like you actually dares to come back here."

Her booming voice triggered all the motion-sensor lights in the hallway. They flicked on one after another.

She grabbed a fistful of my hair.

"Ow! That hurts! Mrs. Wesley, let go! We can talk this out!"

I tilted my head along with her grip, my neck feeling like it was about to snap.

"Talk it out? When you ran off owing me three months of rent, did you talk it out then?

"You left trash piled up everywhere, scribbled all over the walls, and didn't clean a thing!

"Now, you're back. What? Planning to steal something? I should haul you straight to the police station!"

That sent me into a panic.

Ignoring the burning pain in my scalp, I shouted, "What unpaid rent? Didn't Lydia just transfer money to you last week?

"She said she not only covered the rent, she even gave you an extra hundred thousand as compensation!

"That's a hundred thousand! You greedy old miser! Are you trying to deny it?"

Mrs. Wesley froze for a second, then burst out laughing.

She released my hair, turned around, and grabbed a thick stack of something from the shoe cabinet by the door. Without warning, she hurled it straight at my face.

"Take a good look at it. This is your so-called hundred thousand?"

The papers fluttered to the ground.

I bent down to pick one up. Under the dim yellow hallway light, I finally saw what was printed on it.

Some words were printed across it in bold letters.

[Monopoly Bank]

I stared at the fake bills covered in cartoon patterns, my entire body trembling.

It was not the usual banknote print. In fact, those were Monopoly notes, a whole stack of toy money.

My mind exploded with a dull roar.

"No, that's impossible. Lydia clearly withdrew the money from the bank."

I dropped to my knees, rummaging through the scattered piles, desperately searching for even a single real bill.

"I told you already. How dare you!"

Yesterday, when we swiped our cards at Hermès, the sales assistants were smiling so brightly.

When we paid at the Michelin restaurant, the manager had personally walked us out, even bowing as we left.

How could it be that in the blink of an eye, money had turned into toy cash?

Was Lydia really a fraud?

"Come on! We're going to the police station! We'll get this resolved today!"

Mrs. Wesley tossed aside the spatula and grabbed my wrist.

I jolted awake in a flash of clarity. No, I could not go to the police station.

If I went in, I would never find Lydia.

She had to be waiting for me to rescue her.

This money must have been swapped out by Austin.

I leaned forward and sank my teeth into the back of Mrs. Wesley's hand.

"Argh! You rabid dog!"

She screamed in pain and loosened her grip. I seized the chance and bolted down the stairs, not daring to look back even once.

Behind me came her furious curses and the sound of neighbors opening their doors.

I ran all the way out of the compound, only stopping when I could no longer catch my breath.

That was when my stomach growled.

Hunger.

The burning in my gut made my vision blur. I leaned against a roadside utility pole and stared across the street at a child gnawing on a chicken drumstick inside KFC.

I wanted to rush in, snatch it away, and stuff it into my mouth.

My mind drifted back to the Michelin meal I had shared with Lydia just the previous day. The foie gras melting on my tongue, the lobster bursting with juice.

How had it been only one day, and yet I had fallen so far that I was drooling on the street like this?

No. I had to find Lydia.

Even if she was not at the apartment, she would definitely go back to the company.

She had not taken any of her things. Her desk still had that humidifier she loved so much.

I forced myself to ignore the dizziness and made my way toward the office towers downtown.

By the time I staggered into the company lobby, the security shift had changed. Still, they would recognize my face. After all, I used to work here as a sales rep.

I slipped inside during the brief moment when the access gate opened and ran straight for the HR department.

"Where's Lydia? Has anyone seen Lydia come back to process her resignation?"

The moment I burst into the HR office, I grabbed hold of Jess, the HR staffer I knew well.

She had been eating takeout in front of her computer. I startled her so badly that her fork fell to the floor.

She stared at me in panic.

"Y…You… How did you get in here? Didn't security stop you?"

"Cut the crap! I'm asking you where Lydia is! She said she resigned yesterday!"

I locked my eyes onto hers.

Jess shrank back in her chair.

"Lydia? Since when did our company have anyone named Lydia?

"If you want to go crazy, do it outside. Don't ruin my lunch!"

I froze.

"What nonsense are you talking about? Lydia sat right across from me for two whole years!

"At last month's annual dinner, she even won a rice cooker in the raffle! You forgot about that, too?"

Jess rolled her eyes, picked up the fork from the floor, and tossed it into the trash.

"Are you sick or something? The desk across from you has always been used to pile up junk.

"That rice cooker? You were the one who carried it home yourself and refused to let go of it.

"Go look at the employee roster yourself. Who here is named Lydia?"

She spun the computer screen toward me forcefully. Rows upon rows of names filled the display.

I scanned them one by one, my eyes burning.

Nothing.

There was no Lydia.

Not a single one.

How was that possible?

Had everyone joined forces to lie to me?

Just how much power did Austin have?

Enough to bribe my landlord, and now even my company?

Just then, I spotted a Maybach parked downstairs.

I recognized the license plate. It was the same car Austin drove in my residential compound.

He really was following me.

He wanted to wipe me out completely.

I spun around and bolted for the fire exit.

I had to find evidence. I had to find something that proved Lydia was real.

The money was fake. The person was fake. However, what about the lottery ticket?

That was a first-prize lotto ticket.

It was the national lottery.

There was no way Austin could have bought that off, too, right?

I remembered the day Lydia won. She had waved the ticket in front of me for ages.

I had memorized the numbers.

Red balls: 03, 07, 15, 19, 25, 33.

A blue ball: 09.

That was our lucky code. Our ticket to getting rich.

I sprinted out the back door of the office building and ducked into a narrow alley. Relying on memory alone, I made my way through the streets until I reached the lottery office downtown.

The banner at the entrance was still fluttering in the wind.

[Congratulations to this outlet for producing a first-prize winner.]

I knew it. There were still things in this world Austin could not control.

As long as I checked the winning numbers for that draw, I could prove I was right.

I rushed to the bulletin board, where the latest results poster was pinned up.

I stared at the numbers, eyes wide.

First number: 05.

Wrong.

It had to be a printing mistake. Or maybe this was the next draw.

I checked the second number: 12.

Still wrong.

Third number: 16.

Every single number was different from the ones I remembered.

I grabbed the poster and tore it to shreds.

"Fake! It's all fake! You're posting fake results to fool people!

"It was clearly 03! Clearly 07! I saw it with my own eyes!

"Did Austin Grant make you change it? How much did that bastard pay you?"

The people buying lottery tickets scattered, keeping their distance.

Only the shop owner charged out, brandishing a broom.

"Where did this crazy woman come from? You dare tear up my poster? Do you want to die?"

The broom swung at me, kicking up clouds of dust.

I was beaten into retreat, shielding my head as I fled. The Chanel outfit I was wearing was completely ruined, reduced to little more than a rag.

I curled up in the corner, tears mingling with dust as they flowed into my mouth.