Welcome to Neapolis

Nick simply smiled and nodded. "Okay."

He was sure Emma was just taking matters into her own hands, as Tony had allowed him to use the shoes for as long as he needed, but he didn't have the heart to complain. It was just one of those things.

Nick maintained his calm smile as he returned the $1,400 oxfords, all shiny and clean, to Emma.

"Thanks. And please, thank Tony for me once again," he said.

"You're welcome." Emma nodded, still wearing that fake smile, and left.

After, two more neighbor friends came by, inquiring about his interview and reclaiming what they had lent him. First, it was Mike, the owner of the $6,000 Ralph Lauren suit, and then Oldman John, who owned the $11,000 Rolex watch.

From the motorcade entourage to the expensive attire and luxurious possessions, not a single thing belonged to Nick.

While he had borrowed from his neighbors, he rented the cars and hired the bodyguards, all for an act to make his mother, Sara, truly believe he was successful. 

Not long after, Nick found himself standing alone in a white vest and blue briefs, gazing at the closed apartment door.

He just sighed and went to the bathroom. 

Twip~

Nick twisted the tap knob and let the water rush out before cupping some in his hands and washing his face thoroughly with soap.

Once he was done, he reached for a blue towel hanging nearby and used it to gently dry his face and the front part of his hair that had gotten soaked.

Then, he draped the towel over his shoulders and raised his head to see his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

Looking back at Nick was an average-looking man with features that could easily be mistaken for someone in their late twenties, while in reality, he was just 24 years old.

The contours of his collarbones and ribs were vividly outlined under his pale, fair skin. Scrutinizing his slim, long face, he couldn't help but notice the slight acne on his cheeks.

His tired brown eyes carried dark bags beneath them, along with a large bony nose and a somewhat weak chin with a receding jawline. His dark brown hair, although still combed back, had a few unruly strands sticking out in the front.

Nick took hold of the kit in front of him and started applying white paint to his face, but with exaggerated features. 

He was getting ready to go to a birthday party to perform... as a clown.

This side gig had been on his schedule for about a week now, and as he contemplated whether to go through with it, he couldn't help but think about the impact of a last-minute cancellation.

"Although I don't need the money anymore, it wouldn't be fair to ruin the kid's birthday. I have nothing else to do anyway," Nick mused to himself.

After completing his clown makeup, he put on the bogus costume, readied his bag of tricks, and finally left his studio apartment.

Nick took the local commute vehicle to the subway station and took the train to Monston, the higher-class borough at the top of Neapolis.

Upon reaching the designated address, Nick found himself standing in front of an impressive mansion built on hilly terrain. 

The gateman granted him entry after he was identified by a housemaid, who ushered him inside the building. The birthday party was taking place indoors, in a playroom filled with children ranging from around 4 to 12 years old.

Nick bounced cheerfully into the room, sporting a wide smile as he exclaimed in a loud, comical voice, "Hey, hey, hey, kids! It's Henry Clumsy Clown!"

The children saw him and shouted enthusiastically. In line with his clumsy clown persona, Nick intentionally slipped and fell on his back, sparking more laughter among the young audience.

Throughout the party, he entertained the children with silly jokes and unexpected clumsy falls. He even played a simple tune on the grand piano and sang a song dedicated to the young birthday girl, who was sad her father couldn't attend the celebration. 

The children proved to be a fantastic audience, laughing heartily and actively participating in the fun.

After three hours, the birthday party came to a close. Although Nick had forced a cheerful demeanor, he couldn't say he didn't genuinely relish his time entertaining the children. Soon, he received his payment, bid farewell, and left the mansion. 

Nick boarded a bus bound directly for Orlande, the working-class borough, not exactly in the mood to hop on different means of transit just to save costs.

'Sigh… That was tiring.' Nick, still in clown makeup, rested his head against the bus window, taking in the unique and rich sights of Monston, which was often given praise as "Manhattan, but a hundred times better."

The bus soon found itself amid minor traffic and drove slowly.

Nick gazed out to the road ahead and observed an expensive luxury vehicle pull up at a high-end diner.

A stunning lady in a beautiful dress emerged from the back seat, warmly welcomed by a strikingly handsome man in a designer suit.

The flashing lights of numerous cameras beside the red carpet captured the glamorous scene.

Nick couldn't help but contrast this spectacle of opulence with his own life. The distant dream, the modern-day paradise, reflected on the bus window and etched on his clown face as the view sped past.

'Well, welcome to Neapolis, the City of Stars,' he thought with a touch of bitterness, 'where the talentless, unlucky, and ordinary wither and die.'

The sun was already setting when Nick arrived back home at Montreville, Orlande.

Nick's current primary job was that of a convenience store cashier, and he worked the night shift that began at 4 pm. Currently, however, time was already a few minutes past, meaning he was going to be late to work tonight.

Nick immediately freshened up and changed into some casual clothes, a blue shirt with faded jeans. Right after, he rushed out of the five-story apartment complex and hailed a cab.

Soon enough, he arrived at his workplace, Jack's QuickStop convenience store, located uptown in The Victorias—the upper-middle class borough.

Entering, Nick met Mr. Jack Singh, the owner and manager of the store, who hollered Nick for being late to work again.

In the end, despite Nick's many apologies, Mr. Singh ended up subjecting Nick to an eleven-hour shift as punishment instead of the regular ten hours to make up for the hour he was late.

With that done, Nick quickly put on his work uniform, a simple red sleeveless jacket with a name tag on it, and manned the counter.

Time flew by quickly, and the darkness of the night fell upon the world.

The shift had drawn to an end, and it was already a new day, the last day of January. 

Nick locked up according to the procedure, wore an old jacket he brought along, and walked out into the street. 

Swoosh~ 

The winter night was chilly, and the cold wind blew past Nick's face, making the flaps of his clothes and a few strands of his hair dance accordingly. 

Nick paused and observed his surroundings. 

The streets were empty and peaceful, with the breeze refreshing and serene. 

Quietly, Nick took a deep breath and allowed the warm, foggy air to escape his lips. 

He hailed a cab and looked around once again before entering.

It was a beautiful night.

…

At an abandoned building at the edge of Queensgate, Nick rested his hands on the iron fence bordering the expansive sea.

He had scouted this area already a few days ago. It was the perfect place for him.

Nick placed his phone slightly far from his ear, his voice filled with immense joy as the tides fought against the rock walls far below.

"Nick here, as you must've known already since you called this line. Leave whatever you've got to say at the beep. However, you gotta know that I'm most likely not going to call back. Currently living the dream in Las Vegas, haha…"

Beep~

Nick didn't waste any more time after updating his voicemail message. He put his phone back in his pocket and faced away from the expansive sea in his view to the weighty kettlebell sitting on the bush beside him.

Nick knelt on one knee, took out the thin rope from his backpack, put the 200-pound kettlebell in, wore the backpack, and fastened the backpack to his torso using the rope. He had bought the kettlebell and kept it here after figuring out he wouldn't be able to easily carry it around with him when the "time" came.

Nick had already started feeling the strain on his back and inwardly cursed his lack of physical prowess. He took a deep breath and finally climbed the fence, albeit with great difficulty.

Successful, he held the fence as gently as possible for support and tried dearly to find a semblance of balance on the thin ledge.

After accomplishing the task, he stood firmly and closed his eyes as he let the breeze blow past him, basking in the mirth.