Chapter 4: The Search for a Savior

After settling my mom down, I immediately ran to a 24-hour internet café, wanting to find out who the richest man in Chicago is, just like the comments said.

The street was quiet, the flickering sign above the café casting weird shadows on the cracked sidewalk. My sneakers slapped the pavement as I sprinted, hope and fear tangled in my chest.

But since I was underage, as soon as I walked in, the manager shooed me out.

He was a big guy with a Red Sox cap, arms folded across his stained tee. “Hey, kid, this ain’t a daycare. Scram before I call your folks.”

“A kid like you shouldn’t be here. Go home and do your homework.”

He didn’t even look up from the counter, his phone glowing in his palm. A couple of teens in hoodies snickered behind me.

I grabbed his arm and shoved a dollar bill into his hand.

“Mister, can you help me look up who the richest man in Chicago is?”

The bill was crumpled, sweat-soaked. I pushed it into his fist like it was a secret code. My eyes begged him—just this once, just help me out.

The manager pinched the dollar, thought for a second, then asked what I wanted it for.

His voice softened a notch, curiosity piqued. Maybe he saw something desperate in my eyes.

I told him my mom is the daughter of Chicago’s richest man, but now she’s mentally unstable, and I want to help her find her family.

I blurted out the story, words tripping over each other, hoping he’d see how real this was. My voice cracked at the end, but I didn’t care.

The next second, the manager kicked me in the butt, raised his pinky, and said he was Elon Musk’s son himself.

He laughed loud, the kind that echoed through the empty room. “Kid, if you’re a rich boy, I’m the mayor of Chicago.” His pinky wagged in my face, mocking me.

I said, “Yeah, right! Musk’s not even from around here, and you look just like Old Walt from our neighborhood. No way you’re his kid.”

I tried to sound tough, but my cheeks burned. A couple of regulars snorted into their coffee.

The manager cursed and told me to go home and do your homework, threw the dollar back at me, and kicked me out.

I caught the bill before it hit the ground, stuffing it into my pocket like it was a life preserver. The door slammed behind me, neon sign buzzing in the night air.

Just as I was feeling dejected, comments popped up again.

Right there on the sidewalk, the messages shimmered, flickering in and out like ghosts.

[Whoa, how did Charlie know his grandpa is the richest man in Chicago?]

[I have a wild idea... Charlie, if you can see this, type 1.]

The words hovered in the air, brighter than the streetlights. I stared, my heart skipping a beat.

I tilted my head, confused, and asked aloud:

“What does typing 1 mean?”

My voice sounded small, almost lost in the dark. I looked around—no one else could see what I did.

After a long silence, the comments exploded.

It was like opening a firehose—suddenly, a hundred voices talking at once, all for me.

[Whoa! Broke the fourth wall! Is this an interactive novel?]

[He suddenly became an NPC, this is awesome!]

[Quick, quick, let me give you a spoiler. Charlie, your grandpa’s name is Richard Lin, CEO of Lin Enterprises in Chicago. Go find him to save your life!]

[If you don’t get treatment soon, your mom’s illness will flare up in two weeks. Your abusive dad won’t help at all—he’ll drag your mom down with him! And you’ll be stuck in this hell, too!]

My heart skipped a beat in shock.

I read the comments over and over, memorizing every word, until they burned into my brain. Was this fate, or just some weird twist of the universe?

I can’t let my mom die!

My hands curled into fists again. My head spun with plans.

But Chicago is so far away, and I only have a dollar. How can I possibly get there?

The question echoed in my mind—how does a kid from a tiny town with empty pockets cross half the country? The answer: you do whatever it takes.