Waking Up As The Bullied Nerd

CHAPTER 2

My life has always been about working to earn enough money to pay back my debts. Solely and only for that reason. I never got myself into vices and bad habits, well except for occasional drinking and smoking that happens. That is if anyone offers.

I didn’t expect the time when I’ll be handing him my paycheck for the last time would arrive soon. I’m done paying back the amount I borrowed, along with its unreasonable interest.

On my right hand, I was holding a thick stash of money that I thought would be over five hundred dollars. I’m inside the office of the loan shark I borrowed money from. I stood in front of his table, unmoving as I stared blankly while he was on the phone with someone.

I think about a minute has passed, and he lowered his phone and pressed what I think was the end call button on his brand-new phone.

"So this will be the last time I'll be seeing you, huh?" The boss of the lending company I work for casually asks as he picks up the cash and counts the bundle of money I threw at him. I like to call him 'Sharkie' in my mind since he's a loan shark, and I don't like calling him boss or Mr. Sy.

He's an old man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s (I never bothered to ask), who I noticed likes wearing green clothes paired with gold accessories. And to add the final touches, he always has a pair of sunglasses with him. And yes, I do think he looks like a cheap loser.

I could see the satisfaction on Mr. Sy’s face as a corner of his face slowly lifted, making a smug smile. His eyes, which were preoccupied with counting bills, were traveling all over me. I kept my face tamed while he was still looking at me.

I’ve known this man for more than five years to tell he wasn’t checking me out. It was more of assessing a product if it’ll be profitable or not. Although he does throw random compliments about my face, he was trying to get me into p**********n.

As I observed his expression quietly, he had this satisfied smirk on while he studied my face with a penetrating look. Yet, it vanished the moment his attention lingered on my figure, especially the clothes I was wearing. His brows furrowed and his lips pursed slightly, indicating his clear dissatisfaction. He had a slight interest in me in the earlier years, since my face was to his liking. But, I was someone he could not tame under his submission.

Aside from that, he greatly despised my sense of style. There is nothing wrong with wearing a black shirt, baggy pants that look faded and worn, an old green flannel, and a tacky-looking cap I picked from the streets months ago. Clothes are expensive these days, and I don't have anyone to dress up for, especially not Mr. Sy.

He tries masking his disappointment by sounding smug and obnoxious while wearing his annoying smirk. "I still find it amusing to see you stick with your way of doing this," he says, pointing at me with his thumb. "I offered you a job that earns large cash easily using that body." His tone is condescending, but I ignored it.

I resist the urge to let my frustration show and instead meet his gaze with a determined look. I know he enjoys the reactions I show, but I won't let him get under my skin. I won't give him that satisfaction.

"I didn't come here to be a show for you," I retort, my voice steady. "I have my way of doing things, and it's worked for me so far." The recent years never were easy but I still managed to survive.

Mr. Sy's disappointment seems to deepen as if he lost a potential product, but he quickly hides it with a dismissive wave of his hand. He stands up, holding a cigarette pack in hand, and walks towards me. "You're wasting that pretty face of yours, kid." he says, his tone dripping with arrogance. He nudged the cigarette forward but I refused.

I take a step back, maintaining eye contact with him. "My face is mine to do with as I please," I say defiantly. Honestly, I could never understand why he is interested in my appearance. I stood my ground, refusing to back down against him.

I'm not a fan of expressing the way I feel through talking. Yet, I couldn’t help myself from projecting my emotions from displaying on my face particularly when it comes to stupid, filthy, or simply weird junk.

He had this triumphant grin on his face before exploding into raucous laughter that filled the room. I wanted to smack him once. I would have traded everything I owned for that opportunity. Well, there wasn't much to trade in the first place, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Mr. Sy relished the sight of my face filling with disgust. I'm someone who rarely smiles or shows emotion other than a look of disgust. I think no one can control that.

I think it’s his unusual liking or his broken humor, or it could be this man is f#cked in the head. But whenever he sees my face distorted with disgust and revolts, it makes him laugh, which is why he would mess with me whenever he has a chance to.

I’ve always wondered why he was paying too much attention to me. I never tried going for his good side. Getting his favor was the least thing I wanted but he has taken a liking for me. That might have been the reason why people assumed I was his favorite dog.

"I like you despite being a despicable wench. Here are fifty bucks. Buy a good meal with it for making me laugh," He withdrew some cash from his wallet and extended it to me.

My eyes were fixated on the bills but I didn’t make an effort to receive it. There was no reason for me to do so. Even though it had been five years since our first encounter, I never expected our relationship would come to this. My memory was vague and hazy but I still recalled how I desperately gave away the heirloom my grandparents left in exchange for some cash, agreeing to an unreasonable interest rate for it.

I was desperate.

“You can keep your money,” I flatly declined, pushing away the bill he was shoving on my face. A resigned breath came right out of my mouth after taking a step back from him. I don’t need his money at all. I don't need anyone's money

Besides that, he was laughing because he had a loose screw. I don't need anyone's money at all when I am capable of earning my own. I can get it myself without anyone's help and plan to keep it that way.

"Bye, crazy geezer," I said, flashing a smirk as my farewell before striding away. I didn't bother waiting for his response. In fact, I had no interest in knowing. With everything now settled, there was no reason for me to linger any longer. I spun around, the echoes of his laugh filling the building. This man's sense of humor was as fractured as it gets.

Bang!

The more I hear his laugh, the more irritated I get. I tried keeping a straight face, desperately hiding that I was affected by the boss’ teasing. While I was on my way out, I could see the other employees around were also holding off their laughs. My eyes twitched; I took a deep breath to calm myself before storming off.

As I stepped out of the building, my mind was clouded with a sense of unease. This would probably be the last time I would see Mr. Sy or visit his office, now that I was finally debt-free. It should have been a moment of elation, but instead, I found myself feeling strangely hollow.

"I'm debt-free now," I muttered to myself, trying to convince myself that this was something to celebrate. I had worked hard to pay off my debts, and it was a significant accomplishment. However, the expected surge of joy and relief seemed to elude me.

As I walked down the street, my thoughts were in turmoil. I couldn't understand why I wasn't feeling happier. Any normal person would have been ecstatic to be free from the burden of debt, but I couldn't shake off this sense of emptiness

It was as if a part of me was missing like I had let go of something that I had been holding onto for so long. I had been so focused on paying off my debts that I hadn't given much thought to what would come next. Now that the goal was achieved, I felt at a loss.

What should I do next?

I glanced at my watch and groaned. Only an hour until my shift at the next job started.It was a little too early for my shift to start. The place wasn't far from the loan shark’s office, and if I caught the bus, I could be there in thirty minutes.

Rumble~

My stomach growled, and I realized I hadn't eaten since breakfast. Should I grab some lunch before heading to work? I hesitated, unsure if I should do it. I had time to spare but it seems out of character. I’m used to eating only twice a day, occasionally once since I’m always in a hurry.

Why am I making a big deal out of this?

I'm free now. All I need to earn is only for my basic needs. The only thing I have to worry about is myself. Apart from working, I have no hobbies to do or stuff I'm interested in to kill time. I could keep things the way they are, but what reason could I be earning for? It's not like I'm a vain person who wants to be rich.

Women around my age are either dating, studying, or living the best times of their lives. Some of them are already married and started their families. And then there's me, a woman in her mid-20s who barely had anything going on in her life.

Looking at myself, it somehow feels like I'm finally starting over. All the years dedicated to earning money to pay off an insanely large debt, it never crossed my mind what I would do when the debt is over.

But one thing is for sure. I don’t have to work as hard as I do. But if I'm not working hard, what will I do? All I know is to dedicate everything to work, not the type of dedication that’s accompanied by passion but the one that wants the job to be done.

For the first time in years, I'm thinking of something other than getting by every day on what's left of my wages. The thoughts absorb my mind until I realize I'm in front of the intersection.

For a brief moment, I feel a little pang in my head. It's a sudden ache, but I dismiss it as I do with the other pains I'm feeling.

When I arrive at the pedestrian crossing, people are already crossing the street; I'm fortunate enough to have it green. I cross the street while a few people glance at me. Whether it's me or my horrible fashion sense, I'm not sure.

Everyone I know would always mention how pretty my face is. But whenever I look in the mirror, all I can see is typical short brown hair and tired-looking brown eyes. I could put it in a way that I'm not ugly since I'm not awful to look at.

My other features? They're not outstanding either. So, for me to get compliments about being pretty sounds absurd and crazy. People do have a different standard for beauty, but those who say I fit into theirs are nutjobs.

Thumped.

A rush of pain envelops my body. My heartbeats are getting faster and faster.

That's odd; why is my heart racing so fast? Is this a side effect of paying down my debt? That's the thought going through my head.

Thumped.

The strange and unpleasant sensation causes me to come to a stop in the middle of the street. My breathing becomes ragged, and my heart feels like it's about to burst out of my chest at any moment. My throat is so dry that it causes me to cough a few times.

Thumped.

People start to gaze at me. Their expressions suggest that they're questioning if there's something wrong with me. I shake my head and start walking, barely able to regain my breath.

"Haa... haha..." My heavy breathing is loud, and I can feel the cold sweat trickling down my temples as I lower my cap, concealing my agitated appearance. I don't care if everyone hears me.

I have to stop when I'm about a meter away from the sidewalk. My body is too tired to continue and my eyesight is beginning to get blurry, barely recognizing what's in front of me.

What the f#ck is going on?! Is this the outcome of me abusing my body too much?

Although I knew my body would break down at some point, I never expected it to happen at a place like this. And to think it all happened when I was thinking of my future.

Damn, this pain is getting on my nerves.

I take a deep breath once again and I'm about to start walking when a deafening beep sound erupts, and people shout all around me. Before I can figure out what's going on, the left side of my body is in excruciating pain. My eyes are closed as a result of the unexpected force forcing me to the right.

My body is lying down in the middle of the intersection by the time I open my eyes. I've lost my capacity to move my body, and everyone's expressions are contorted with astonishment and terror.

A puddle of red liquid starts to form beneath where I'm resting. I may be dimwitted, but I can figure out what's going on given the circumstances.

I’m dying.

This must be my karma for all the nasty stuff I did before. I gave up fighting the sudden weariness. I'm losing consciousness. I have no energy to fight back. I'm tired of fighting back, too tired of everything.

The day my existence no longer has a reason to be living is the day I finished binding myself to the debt. Paying up the debt gave me a sense of purpose in life. It's not like I want to die, but I feel so dead inside to continue living.

I can't help but flash a smile of relief as my eyes lose their ability to keep me awake. Before I can fully close my eyes, I see someone rushing toward where I was lying down, but it's no use. My heart is the one that gives up and stops beating.