Tunde barely slept that night.
He kept tossing and turning, the fan overhead wobbling slightly with every rotation. The shadows in the room seemed to press in closer, and every sound—the screech of a lizard on the zinc roof, the distant hum of a generator—felt amplified.
But none of them compared to the memory of her.
The girl in the red headwrap.
Moving... while time was frozen.
Smiling like she knew everything.
He hadn't told Chinonso. He didn't know how.
How do you tell someone, "Hey, I found a coin that freezes time—and someone else was walking through it like it's a stroll in Shoprite?"
He looked at the coin resting on his desk. Under the dull hostel bulb, it didn't look magical. It looked like a worn-out metal trinket that belonged in a baba's shrine or on the cover of a Nollywood DVD.
But he knew better now.
---
The next morning, everything felt off.
Tunde had a tutorial at 10 a.m., and his head was heavy with questions. He slipped the coin into his pocket, just in case. Outside, Unilag was already bustling. Vendors were selling puff-puff near the gates, while students laughed, hustled, and shouted at bike men.
He walked into the engineering block. A lecturer was scolding some latecomers, and everyone scrambled into their seats.
He sat at the back, distracted.
For the first time, he wondered: What are the limits of this thing?
Could it actually help him?
He reached into his pocket and felt the coin's familiar coolness. He thought of the upcoming exam next week—Engineering Mathematics III, taught by the wicked Dr. Bashiru, who was known for setting impossible questions.
Tunde had failed that course last semester.
What if the coin could help him pass it?
What if, during the test, he paused time and simply… read the answers?
He'd never have to rewrite it again. No more carryover. No more shame.
He shook the thought off.
No. That's madness. Cheating with magic? That's like using jazz to win a spelling bee.
But the idea stayed.
---
That evening, he finally opened up to Chinonso.
They sat on the hostel balcony, sipping sachet water and watching the sun bleed into the horizon.
"Guy," Tunde said suddenly, "if you found something... powerful, like an object that could change your life, what would you do with it?"
Chinonso raised an eyebrow. "Like how? Na juju abi na money ritual?"
"No, like... something real. Magical, but real. Like... something that gives you power. Just five minutes a day."
"Five minutes of what?"
Tunde hesitated. Then whispered, "To stop time."
Chinonso laughed so hard he nearly choked. "Tunde! You don kolo! I knew all those sleepless nights would reach your brain."
"I'm serious."
"Okay," Chinonso said, playing along. "Five minutes a day? I go use am collect money from Access Bank. Simple."
Tunde nodded slowly. "But what if… it has consequences?"
Chinonso sipped his water, suddenly thoughtful. "Then na matter of choice. But sha, if I ever get that kain power, first thing I go do—slap Dr. Bashiru. Man don show me pepper."
They both laughed. But deep down, Tunde wasn't laughing.
---
Two days later, the perfect opportunity came.
A surprise test.
Dr. Bashiru walked in, cold and unforgiving as usual, holding a stack of question papers.
"Everyone, sit properly. This is twenty marks. No talking. I see your lips move—zero!"
Groans filled the room.
Tunde's hands trembled as he received the question paper.
He looked at the first question.
"Evaluate the Laplace transform of…"
His brain blanked.
Nope. Not today.
He slipped his hand into his pocket. His fingers closed around the coin. A brief moment of warmth pulsed through his palm.
He didn't hesitate this time.
Click.
Time froze.
Everyone stopped. Pens mid-air. Eyes wide open. Even Dr. Bashiru froze like a badly drawn wax figure.
Tunde stood up, heart pounding.
The silence was unnerving. It wasn't the comforting quiet of a peaceful morning—it was empty. Like the world had forgotten how to breathe.
He moved from desk to desk, scanning papers. He found Ifeoma, the class genius, and looked at her answers.
His hands shook as he copied.
He knew what he was doing was wrong. It felt like betraying something sacred. But he told himself, Just this once. Just to survive.
He returned to his seat, finished copying, and exhaled.
The five minutes ended.
Time resumed.
Scribbles. Groans. The occasional curse. Bashiru's voice barking instructions again.
But Tunde sat calmly. He smiled.
For the first time, he was ahead.
---
Later that night, Tunde couldn't sleep.
It wasn't guilt.
It was fear.
He kept hearing footsteps in his mind. The memory of the girl in red, moving in frozen time.
Who was she?
What did she mean by "Welcome to the game"?
Was this all a game?
He flipped the coin between his fingers, staring at the hourglass symbol. As he did, he noticed something new.
The edge of the coin—previously smooth—now had a faint notch on it.
Like a scratch. Or a tally.
Was it keeping count?
---
The next day, he used the coin again—but not to cheat. He wanted to test something.
He walked to a busy market in Yaba, paused time, and simply observed. He moved through the frozen crowd like a ghost. A woman mid-shout. A boy caught in mid-step. A fly, stuck mid-air.
This time, he checked something: Did his movement affect the world?
He nudged a crate. When time resumed, the crate didn't budge. Interesting.
He rearranged someone's hand — time resumed, and they recoiled, confused.
So his actions during the freeze had limited effects. Not everything stuck.
He started writing down notes like a scientist:
Duration: Exactly 5 minutes per day
Touching coin triggers freeze
Touching again doesn't restart it
Movement is easy; resistance low
Some physical changes (hand positions, light switches) persist. Others (sound, object weight) do not.
But then something weird happened.
He found an okada man frozen in place—except the man's eyes moved.
Just slightly.
Blinking.
Was someone else inside him?
He crouched to look closer.
The man blinked again. This time, slower.
Then his lips almost twitched.
A whisper escaped—barely a sound, like wind through dry grass.
"Don't... trust... her."
Tunde froze.
Then the five minutes ended.
The okada man shook his head like he was waking up from a dream, then revved his bike and zoomed off.
Back at the hostel, Chinonso was watching Burna Boy videos on his phone. Tunde pulled the coin out and slammed it on the desk.
"I think this thing is messing with my head."
Chinonso paused the video. "You still dey talk that thing?"
"I used it again today. But someone… someone spoke during the freeze."
Chinonso raised an eyebrow. "From their mouth?"
Tunde nodded.
"Then guy, you're not alone. Maybe others get coin like that."
"Exactly. There's a whole world to this."
Chinonso shook his head. "See, all this na too much. If na me get that coin, I go cash out and disappear from this country. Five minutes every day? I go be billionaire."
Tunde stared at the coin.
Something told him it wasn't that simple.
That night, as he drifted into sleep, he had a dream.
He stood in a circle of mirrors, each one showing a version of him—older, younger, angry, scared.
They all held the coin.
In the center stood the girl in the red headwrap.
She said nothing this time.
She just pointed at him.
Behind her, a door slowly opened.
Inside was only darkness.