Frank slumped onto the old barstool, his vacant eyes staring at the swirling whiskey in his glass. He had never drunk alone before, but today was a special day—the day he got kicked out of a four-year relationship with nothing more than a brief phone call.

  "Frank, you're just a useless nerd." Her voice still echoed in his head, cold and cutting, like a blade slicing straight into his pride. "You know what? I've been sleeping with someone else for a long time. And now, we're getting married. A man with money, with power—not someone who spends his life buried in numbers like you."

  Frank curled his lips into a bitter smirk. Four years, traded for a slap to his dignity. He had thought that as long as he studied hard and landed a good job, he would have a stable life. Turns out, New York City didn’t care about guys who won second place in the Math Olympiad. This city of wealth and power only worshiped those with influence and bottomless wallets.

  He downed the whiskey in one go, letting the burning sensation scorch his throat. To hell with everything.

  "Frank?"

  He turned around and recognized a familiar face. Mike. His old "every-man-for-himself" buddy from the Math Olympiad team. Back then, they used to joke about their teacher’s massive chest and ramble on about all sorts of philosophical nonsense. But after college, their paths diverged. Mike seemed to be doing better, at least judging by the expensive-looking suit he was wearing.

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  "Long time no see. You look like shit." Mike grinned and gave him a playful pat on the back.

  Frank scoffed. "Thanks for the concern."

  Mike sat down and ordered a whiskey, same as Frank. "What happened? Spill it."

  Frank knew that telling Mike would only turn his life’s misfortunes into a laughingstock. But right now, he didn’t care anymore. He gulped down his drink and let it all out—from his job struggles to that cold, gut-wrenching breakup call.

  As expected, Mike burst out laughing, nearly choking on his drink.

  "Oh man, what a disaster," he said, pounding the table.

  Frank stayed silent, waiting for the next sarcastic remark. But then, Mike’s expression shifted.

  "Listen, I’m serious… Maybe I can help you."

  Frank raised an eyebrow. "Help? How? Got a job for me?"

  Mike shook his head, pulled a business card from his pocket, and placed it in front of Frank.

  Frank frowned. A business card? In 2020?

  "I'm not joking," Mike said with a wink. "If you need anything, call me."

  With that, he patted Frank’s shoulder again and disappeared into the crowded bar.

  Frank watched him go, then looked down at the card on the table. It was old, worn—its back covered in strange symbols.

  Weird.

  He turned it over in his fingers, feeling something wasn’t right. A business card, in this year?

  What the hell was Mike up to?