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.

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.