The bone staircase clacked beneath Dylan's boots like an abacus counting down his remaining seconds. Each step deducted a heartbeat from an invisible balance he couldn't see but felt pressing against his ribs. Behind him the volcanic roost sealed with a wet clang, lava hardening into a receipt that would be collected later.
Above, the sky had shifted to debtor's twilight—a bruised orange that only existed in Basement Level Zero, where the sun was leased and interest was compounded by the breath.
[ Dusk collection incoming – 0:09:47 ]
[ Payment method: pulse – tax-deductible ]
[ Late fee: one memory per second overdue ]
He descended faster, boots skimming the bone rails, Lightning Fork tucked under his arm like a cracked credit card that still swiped. The scale in his inventory hummed – opal, warm, still beating like a debtor's pulse. Itched against the Well's mark on his forearm – two predators sharing the same cage of skin.
At the base of the staircase the corridor waited – but not the same one he'd auctioned through earlier. This passage had grown – walls of black glass, floor of mirror, ceiling a low ledger of floating numbers that updated every heartbeat. Every step deducted 0.5 % mana – interest compounded every thirteen heartbeats.
Students filed in ahead of him – thirty-eight living IOUs, some missing pieces, all silent. Argent #017 stood off to one side, left eye glassed but smirk intact. Noble-boy #022 knelt, true name spent, House foreclosed, shadow thinning like overdraft balance. Clockwork-nun #031 ticked louder than before, remaining arm cradling empty socket like a broken watch.
At the far end of the corridor stood the Collection Booth – a single oak door, brass plaque reading:
Dusk Collection – Exact Change Only
Late Fee: One Memory Per Second
A queue formed – silent, orderly, like debtors waiting for the guillotine to invoice their necks.
Dylan stepped up – heartbeat steady, debt already compounded. He inserted his pulse into the slot. The door sucked one second of his life – paid in full. Receipt printed on his forearm:
Paid: 1.0 s late fee = memory of first storm (already repossessed – duplicate archived).
He walked away – smiling, because nothing was lost that hadn't already been sold.
Beyond the booth the corridor split – three paths, three tariffs:
1. Left – Pay one memory of laughter – flat rate, no compounds.
2. Center – Continue current math – interest exponential.
3. Right – Auction lane – highest bidder sets length for all.
Dylan chose right – auction lane – because math is math, and math always wins.
Platform rose beneath his feet, carrying him above the tiles. Digital numbers flashed overhead – current bid: 3 % mana. Bidding started fast:
"Five percent!"
"Seven!"
"Ten – and my left pinky!"
Dylan waited, counting heartbeats until next compound – thirteen, twelve, eleven. When the timer hit ten, he shouted, "Fifteen percent + one favor owed to the Well!"
Silence. Favor currency trumped mana. Numbers locked.
Beat thirteen arrived. Compound applied – but corridor length had been slashed by sixty percent. Total cost froze at fifteen + favor. Painful, finite.
Platform descended. Door appeared – plain wood, unlocked.
Dylan stepped off, legs shaking, mana at 41 %. Cheaper than continuing. He pushed the door and walked out without looking back.
Beyond the door lay a circular plaza – white stone, sunlight without sky, fountain in the center spitting liquid gold – interest compounded in real time.
A figure waited – Ledger, mask of Coin, ink-veins pulsing beneath parchment skin. She smiled a banker's smile – polite, sharp, already counting.
"Welcome to the Fountain of Accrued Interest, customer Thirteen. Your favor is due."
She extended a hand – palm up, waiting for payment that hadn't been invented yet.
Dylan placed the dragon scale in her palm – opal, warm, still beating like a debtor's pulse.
"Collateral posted," he said. "But I'll need a receipt in thunder."
Ledger laughed – sound like coins falling into a furnace. She snapped her fingers. The scale melted into liquid contract, poured into the fountain, mixing with liquid gold – interest compounded in real time.
> [Favor bookmarked: one thunder-clap, payable when dragon calls.]
[Interest accrues: 0.01 % per heartbeat – forever.]
She bowed – polite as a guillotine. "Class dismissed until the storm arrives."
Dylan walked away, scale gone, new debt inked on his heartbeat, smiling the way lightning smiles – brief, bright, already counting the interest on tomorrow's storm.
Interest never sleeps.
But for now, he walks.