I still need money

Three days had passed, and Phoebe walked through the hospital, her body exhausted. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at her parents lying unconscious in their beds.

She would find the money. Her parents would be okay!

But—

Where was she going to find so much money? She had already begged for help wherever she could, lowering herself, speaking softly, but the amount she managed to borrow was still a pittance.

Suddenly, a face flashed in her mind. She remembered Curtis, and for a moment, a glimmer of hope sparked within her.

She could ask him for a loan, and once she graduated and found a job, she'd pay him back.

Nervously, she tried calling Curtis' private number. But after several attempts, the phone was still switched off.

She tried calling Merle as well, but no one answered. Disappointment crashed over Phoebe once again, and the last bit of hope in her heart crumbled.

She wandered aimlessly through the streets, her figure fragile and lost. The path ahead seemed uncertain, and she had no idea where to go.

Staring sorrowfully at the ground, her eyes filled with tears once again.

Was she really going to have to sell her body, just like that night? A bitter smile tugged at her lips as she resolutely made her way to the busiest area of Valleybrook.

The summer night was warm, but she couldn't feel any of it. Hugging herself tightly, she stepped into another underground bar.

Would she be as "lucky" this time?

She wished for a miracle, but deep down, she knew it was just a foolish dream.

The bar was chaotic, thick with the smell of alcohol and smoke, making Phoebe's throat burn. The music was so loud it pounded in her ears. Men and women swayed wildly, their hands exploring each other in a haze of lust.

Phoebe loathed everything about this place—a den of indulgence and decay. A place where people came to lose themselves in sin.

But what made her any different from them?

In fact, she was even worse.

Winding her way through the crowd, she found a relatively quiet corner to sit down. She hated it here, but for the sake of money, she had returned.

The stench of the air made her stomach churn, but even so, she couldn't afford to retreat now.

Just then, a middle-aged man approached her. Phoebe glanced at him, assuming he was just another man looking for a quick chat, but when she saw his face clearly, she felt a sense of familiarity.

"Well, well, what a coincidence, meeting again like this!" The man chuckled as he noticed her confused expression.

"Don't you recognize me, young lady?"

His laughter grated on Phoebe, feeling fake and calculated. She disliked his smile—it was full of pretense.

"Who are you?" Phoebe's eyes widened in confusion. His face seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him.

"Wow, you've got quite the forgetful memory, haven't you? I've helped you before!"

Helped? Suddenly, it hit her. He was the one who had arranged her first transaction—the bar manager.

"It's you!" A bitter smile formed in her heart. So, fate had brought them together again, hadn't it?

"What are you doing here?" The man asked, noticing the heavy burden on her face. It seemed like she was in trouble once again.

Phoebe bit her lip hard, unable to utter a single word. She forced a stiff smile, but her eyes betrayed her sorrow.

The bar manager could tell something was wrong. He didn't need to guess—her troubled expression said it all.

"Well, young lady, we seem to be connected by fate. If you need help, just say the word." His tone was generous, but he wasn't a good Samaritan.

He was a businessman—someone who wouldn't do anything for free. If he pitied everyone, his business wouldn't survive, nor would he make any money.

The only reason he was even offering was because of the profit she'd made him the last time.

"I... I..." Phoebe's thick glasses covered most of her pale face, which was drained of all color.

"I still need money."