Sean didn't move for a long time.
The alley around him was quiet except for the distant hum of passing cars and the soft rustling of leaves in the wind. In his hands, the money felt heavier than it should've been.
Real.
He flipped through the bills again, slowly, as if afraid they might vanish.
₱1,000… ₱5,000… ₱10,000…
He had never touched this much money in his life.
His breath was shaky as he stared at the glowing message on the phone's screen.
"3 Heists Remaining Today."
His chest tightened.
Three.
That meant… he could do it again?
"Di ni normal," he muttered under his breath, still dazed.
("This isn't normal.")
But as the cold wind brushed against him, reality slowly crept back in.
His ribs ached from last night's beating. His stomach was twisting painfully from hunger. His whole body was trembling—but not from fear.
From temptation.
"Kausa pa gani ni, wa pa gani ko gisilotan," he whispered.
("I've only done it once. I haven't even been punished yet.")
His eyes flicked back to the phone.
One more time.
Just to be sure.
His fingers moved almost without thought, reopening Utube and searching for another video—this time, a foreign vlogger showing off gold watches and jewelry in a luxury shop.
He stared at the screen, hand hovering.
His heartbeat was loud in his ears.
"Isa pa… para masiguro lang."
("One more… just to make sure.")
Slowly, he reached out.
Again, his hand passed through.
The same cold, strange sensation crawled up his arm as he grabbed onto something—heavy and solid.
He pulled back.
This time, it wasn't cash.
It was a gold watch.
It glimmered under the flickering alley lights, perfectly real in his palm.
Sean stared at it, barely breathing.
Another soft chime sounded from the phone.
"2 Heists Remaining Today."
His mouth went dry.
It was real.
Everything about this was real.
Sean's hands tightened around the items, his mind racing.
He wasn't thinking about right or wrong anymore.
He was thinking about survival.
This phone… it wasn't just a tool.
It was power.
And in his world, power meant survival.
His mother's dying word echoed in his head.
"Survive."
That was all she ever asked of him.
He chuckled bitterly under his breath.
"Mura'g katarungan ni para mabuhi ko, 'no?"
("Seems like this is my excuse to stay alive, right?")
But no matter how he tried to joke, he couldn't shake the unease creeping up his spine.
Where did this phone really come from?
Why him?
Why now?
He thought about the man in the black cloak, about how no one else saw that vendor table but him.
"Di ni tinuod nga tsamba lang ni. nganong pariho mania gisulti ni mama nako sa wala pa siya namatay?"
("This wasn't just luck. And why does the app name be the same as my mother's last word. ")
Still, his stomach growled louder, reminding him that no matter how strange it was, hunger wasn't going to wait for answers.
Sean looked down at the stack of money and the gold watch in his lap.
He couldn't sit here all night staring.
He needed to move.
Cautiously, Sean tucked the items into his worn-out bag, keeping the phone close to his chest.
He stood up, glancing around.
No footsteps. No thugs. The streets were still quiet.
With careful steps, he slipped out of the alley and into the brighter streets, where food stalls were opening again.
Every peso he had ever earned before this moment felt like a joke.
Now, he could buy anything he wanted.
He stopped at the first stall selling steaming rice and fried fish.
The vendor, a middle-aged man with a toothpick between his teeth, gave him a long stare.
"Bag-o ra ka diri, bay?"
("You're new here, kid?")
Sean gave a small nod, keeping his eyes down.
"Pila diay imong paliton?"
("How much do you want to buy?")
Sean's voice was quiet.
"Kanang makabuaog tagpila mana, boss?"
("What's the most filling meal, boss?")
The vendor chuckled, shaking his head.
"Aw, ₱100, busog na kaayo ka ana."
("Ah, ₱100, you'll be more than full with that.")
Sean reached into his pocket and handed over a crisp ₱500 bill.
The vendor's eyes widened.
"Hoy! Sobra ra ni, bay, wala koy pang sukli ani."
("Hey! This is too much, kid. I don't have change for this. ")
Sean simply muttered, "Cge ra boss pag serve nalang, boss."
("Just prepare it, boss.")
Minutes later, Sean sat on a bench, devouring the meal with shaky hands.
It was the first full meal he had eaten in days.
Every bite tasted like both heaven and guilt.
He kept glancing at the phone beside him, still glowing faintly in his bag.
Somewhere deep inside, he knew this was only the beginning.
And somehow, without fully realizing it yet, Sean had already crossed a line he could never step back from.