GOD DAMN LIFE
Adler stormed out of the meeting like a man who had just been personally betrayed by the entire concept of existence. His coat billowed behind him, his eyes were ablaze with a mix of exhaustion and irritation that could reduce weaker men to dust. The night air hit him, but it did nothing to cool his temper.
His personal driver, a man who had long since given up trying to understand Adler's moods, stood patiently beside the idling black luxury sedan. He watched in silence as his employer approached like a storm cloud about to declare war on everything.
The driver cleared his throat. "Sir—"
Adler threw the door open with a slam and collapsed into the back seat like a king returning from battle. "Take me somewhere that serves alcohol and doesn't ask questions."
The driver hesitated. "Sir, you've had a long day. Perhaps a meal first—"
Adler lifted a single hand, fingers slightly curled, an elegant gesture that somehow carried the weight of a death threat. "Did I ask for a meal? No. I asked for oblivion."
The driver sighed through his nose. "Very well, sir."
And with that, the car pulled into the night, carrying within it a man whose patience with reality had officially expired.
The bar was one of those dimly lit places where secrets went to die, where the air was thick with cigarette smoke, regret, and the faintest hint of bad decisions. A place where no one asked for your name unless they were planning to rob you later.
Adler kicked the door open like a man declaring war on sobriety.
The bartender—a weary man who had seen everything from brawls to full existential breakdowns—paused mid-cleaning a glass. A few patrons turned to look at the unmistakably expensive man standing at the entrance, radiating chaos.
Adler strode to the counter, unbuttoning his coat like he was about to physically fight the alcohol itself.
The bartender blinked. "Uh… What can I get you?"
Adler removed his coat, tossed it onto the bar like it was an insult to his existence, and declared: "Everything."
A silence fell.
"Everything?" the bartender echoed.
"If it burns, pour it."
The bartender, a man with survival instincts, decided it was best not to argue. He poured a shot of whiskey. Adler downed it. Then another. Then another.
With every drink, his frustration peeled away like layers of a cursed onion.
And then—
The insanity began.
A few drinks in, Adler had entered the "prophet phase" of drunkenness—the part where everything was deeply philosophical and dangerously honest.
Random drunk: "Life's weird, man."
Adler, gesturing wildly: "Life is an unscripted tragedy directed by an idiot!"
He challenged an old man to a game of chess, didn't know how to play, won anyway. The old man just stared at the board like he had been spiritually defeated by an agent of chaos itself.
At one point, a local tough guy bumped into him.
Tough guy: "Watch it."
Adler, drunk but still terrifying: "Do you know who I am?"
Tough guy, suddenly nervous: "…No?"
Adler: "Neither do I. We have that in common. Sit. Drink."
They drank together. By the end of the night, the tough guy was crying about his childhood.
Somewhere between shot fifteen and nineteen, Adler climbed onto a table, raised his glass, and delivered what would later be known as The Drunken Monarch's Speech.
"To the world!" he declared. "A cruel joke! A stage with no script! A play directed by an idiot!"
People started cheering because they didn't fully understand what he was saying but it sounded important. A man in the corner wiped a tear, touched by the unexpected depth of it.
Someone tried to pickpocket him mid-speech, but Adler spun around dramatically and the thief fell over.
The bartender had seen a lot in his career. But this? This was legendary.
And then—
Bartender: "Sir, maybe you should get a cab."
Adler, slamming a stack of money on the counter: "And maybe you should mind your business."
Storming out, he reached his car. His driver was already standing outside, arms crossed.
Driver: "Sir. I can't let you drive."
Adler, leaning on the hood: "That's adorable."
The driver physically blocks the door.
"Sir, I insist. This is dangerous."
Adler stares him dead in the eye. "Get out of my way."
The driver doesn't move.
Adler tilts his head. Smirks.
And then—
He slaps a stack of money onto the driver's chest. "Go get yourself dinner."
Before the driver can react—
Adler hops in, revs the engine, and PEELS OFF INTO THE NIGHT LIKE A CURSED DEMON, LAUGHING MANIACALLY.
His radio blasts a classical opera piece while he swerves through traffic like a bored god playing with fate.
At one point, a police officer sees him but just sighs and looks away—deciding this wasn't worth his pension.
Adler, alone in the car, mutters to himself, laughing darkly.
"If I die tonight… at least I won't have to deal with those morons anymore."
He swerves. The night stretches ahead.
----
Meanwhile Theo somewhere lost in the town had officially lost his mind too. Four days. No sleep. No solid food. No straight answers.
For ninety-six hours, he had chased whispers, stared at scribbled cryptic notes from lunatics who thought riddles were an acceptable form of communication, and gotten punched in the face twice (one of which was his own fault, but that was besides the point).
Now, he was standing at a taxi stand, heavily drunk engaged in a full-scale war with a driver who was way too confident for a man who drove a tin can for a living.
"I SAID THREE DAMN BLOCKS, NOT A PRIVATE TOUR OF THE ENTIRE CITY, YOU THIEVING RAT!" Theo barked, his eye twitching like a dying candle.
The taxi driver, a middle-aged warlord of scams, scoffed. "Oh? And I said double the fare upfront or you walk. Guess what? You walked."
Theo dragged his hand down his face, re-evaluating every life choice that led him here. He was too tired for this. Way too tired. He reached into his coat, fished out a single coin, and with the final remnants of his willpower, chucked it at the driver's forehead.
It wasn't even an actual coin. It was a button from his own coat.
The driver, unimpressed, threw Theo out of the taxi.
Theo landed flat on his back. He didn't even bother to get up.
Staring up at the indifferent night sky, he muttered to himself.
"This… This is it. This is where I die. Cause of death? Exhaustion, riddles, and a fraudulent taxi driver."
He pulled himself up and staggered toward a large tree, collapsing under it like a man who had given up on everything. He sat there, a half-dead, unshaven wreck, contemplating every poor decision that led him to this ridiculous life.
He sighed.
And then—
BOOM.
Alder's royal car had just obliterated the tree.
The impact shook the ground. Bark splintered. Leaves rained down like confetti at a drunken funeral.
Theo rolled like a boll from there, slowly turned his head toward the smoking vehicle.
"…Really? Even God's bored of my suffering now?"
The driver's door burst open, and out stumbled Adler.
Drunk. Bleeding slightly. Confused as hell.
Theo blinked at him.
Adler blinked back.
Theo exhaled. "Oh great. It's a royal idiot."
Adler pointed at him, swaying slightly. "Y-you… you look like a very unfortunate man."
"I AM a very unfortunate man," Theo confirmed, standing up, brushing the dirt off himself. "And I've had enough."
He grabbed Adler's arm, slung it over his shoulder, and dragged him toward the car like a man hauling a particularly useless corpse.
"You're injured," Theo muttered. "Sit down before I leave you here for the wolves."
"I'm fine," Adler slurred. "Royal bones. Strong. Can't break."
Theo sighed. "Oh, you're definitely broken, alright."
And then—Theo spotted something inside the car.
"…Wait. Is that an entire bottle of whiskey?"
Adler followed his gaze. "Yes."
Theo stared at him. "…You stole it from the bar, didn't you?"
Adler straightened up, suddenly looking offended. "No. I BOUGHT it. I am a KING."
Theo gave him a long, tired stare. "No, you're a wreck in royal clothing."
Somehow, they made it to the lake.
Theo didn't even know why. Neither of them did. But here they were—two completely broken, sleep-deprived men, sitting by the cold, dark water, passing a half-empty bottle of whiskey between them like it was the last source of warmth in their miserable lives.
Adler took a sip. "You know… I might have ruined my entire life tonight."
Theo took the bottle from him. "Welcome to the club. Been here for years."
Adler stared at the sky. "I made this mess. I orchestrated all of it. And yet, I don't even know what's real anymore."
Theo groaned. "Oh, don't start with the cryptic nonsense again."
Adler ignored him. "Power is an illusion. Influence is a ghost. And here I am, chasing shadows I don't even understand."
Theo exhaled. "Right. Cool. But hear me out. WHAT THE HELL ARE WE TALKING ABOUT?"
Adler turned to him, looking dead serious. "I don't know."
Theo threw his head back. "Great. Fantastic. We're both drunk idiots now."
Adler frowned. "No, listen. You ever wonder… if you were meant for something bigger?"
Theo side-eyed him. "I was meant for a quiet life with a good bed, decent food, and no riddles. Instead, I have this."
Adler grinned. "It's funny. I always thought people like us… should never meet."
Theo rolled his eyes. "And yet, here we are. Two disasters, sitting by a lake, drunk and philosophical."
Adler chuckled. "It's oddly… peaceful."
Theo sighed, taking the bottle back. "Yeah… Before the next storm hits."
They sat there in silence.
Two men. Two completely different worlds. Somehow thrown together into the same nightmare.
…
Alder was bleeding, swaying, and philosophically destroyed. Theo was tired, injured, and utterly done with life. Together, they sat by the lake, the cold water reflecting the absolute mess their lives had become.
Alder exhaled dramatically. "Theo... it's all a game. A giant, twisted, mind-breaking game."
Theo took a long sip from the bottle. "Oh, here we go. The 'drunken monologue of enlightenment' begins. I'd run, but my legs are numb."
Alder leaned forward, eyes unfocused yet intense. "No, listen. It all started with the train. That cursed, goddamn train."
Theo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? The one that turned my week into an unsolvable circus? Do tell."
Alder pointed at him dramatically. "That train wasn't just any train. It was a moving vault."
Theo stared. "... A what?"
Alder nodded feverishly. "A high-speed, high-security, government-backed vault on wheels. But not just any vault—a vault carrying something that should never have existed in the first place."
Theo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. I'm about to hear some classified-level nonsense, aren't I?"
Alder ignored him. "That train was transporting 'The Ledger.' An entire record of black operations, secret bank accounts, off-the-books deals—every dirty secret from the last forty years."
Theo blinked. "...And they thought putting it on a train was a good idea?"
Alder threw up his hands. "Governments are stupid, Theo. But someone knew that ledger was on board. And they derailed the whole damn thing."
Theo's exhausted brain tried to keep up. "Alright, so it wasn't an accident. Who benefits?"
Alder leaned in, eyes dark. "That's the fun part."
Theo sighed. "Alright, let's rip the bandage off. Who's actually pulling the strings?"
Alder took another swig before pointing at Theo. "Three groups. All playing different games."
Theo groaned. "I hate this already."
Alder grinned. "First group: The Investors. Ruthless old-money families who don't give a damn about nations—just profit and control. They wanted the ledger because it holds blackmail material on every power player alive."
Theo nodded. "Classic. Go on."
Alder continued. "Second group: The Ghosts. A splinter faction of ex-intelligence officers. They don't want to use the ledger for power. They want to burn the whole system to the ground."
Theo stared. "...I think I like these guys."
Alder shook his head. "They're lunatics, Theo. If they win, we're all screwed."
Theo waved a hand. "And the third group?"
Alder smirked. "The Puppeteer."
Theo paused. "…The hell is that?"
Alder leaned closer. "The one who's playing everyone. No one knows their identity, but they orchestrated the train attack, leaked false intel to the Investors, manipulated the Ghosts into making a move, and set up a chain reaction that will collapse everything unless we stop them."
Theo sighed. "Let me get this straight. Some shadowy mastermind caused all this chaos just to… what? Watch the world burn?"
Alder chuckled. "That's the thing, Theo. We don't know what they want."
Theo massaged his temples. "Oh, fantastic. Nothing I love more than an all-powerful, motivation-less puppet master."
Theo exhaled sharply. "Okay, next question. The opera meeting. Why was it so damn important?"
Alder grinned, still woozy but reveling in his knowledge. "Because the real players were there, hidden in plain sight."
Theo narrowed his eyes. "Go on."
Alder gestured vaguely. "That night, three things happened that no one noticed. First, a message was exchanged in the music. The symphony? It was a cipher. A coded conversation between two people—one inside the government, the other… working for the Puppeteer."
Theo threw up his hands. "Of course, because why not? Can't just use text messages like normal people."
Alder ignored him. "Second, the entire security detail wasn't real. They were planted. The opera wasn't protected—it was observed."
Theo rubbed his face. "So we walked into a trap."
Alder nodded. "And third? There was a betrayal that night. Someone switched sides."
Theo stiffened. "Who?"
Alder smirked. "That, my friend… is still a mystery."
Theo threw his head back. "Oh, screw this night."
Alder groaned and laid back on the cold ground. "Theo, I think I'm going to die."
Theo took another swig. "Do it quietly."
Alder stared at the sky. "The world is falling apart, power is shifting, we don't know who's playing who, and I'm bleeding and drunk."
Theo nodded. "Yes. All very unfortunate. Now, are we done?"
Alder turned his head. "Theo… what if none of this matters?"
Theo blinked. "...Excuse me?"
Alder waved a hand lazily. "What if this entire war is just… another cycle? Another fight for power where we're just pieces on a board?"
Theo exhaled slowly. "Alder, let me make this very clear."
Alder blinked at him.
Theo grabbed the bottle and pointed it at Alder. "I. Don't. Care."
Alder choked out a laugh. "You're so damn frustrating."
Theo shrugged. "You just unloaded the entire conspiracy of the century on me while I'm injured, sleep-deprived, and intoxicated. My ability to care is currently at rock bottom."
Alder snorted. "Fair."
Theo sighed. "Look, if we're just pieces on a board… then fine. But we're gonna flip that damn board before we let someone else move us."
Alder blinked, then grinned. "That… might be the most inspiring thing you've ever said."
Theo took another sip. "Don't get used to it."
They sat in silence, staring at the lake.
The game was bigger than they thought.
The stakes were higher than they realized.
And yet, in that moment… they were just two drunk, battered idiots sitting by the water.
Alder sighed. "Alright. Now what?"
Theo passed him the bottle. "We get some damn sleep. And then… we break the game."
Alder smirked. "Sounds good."
And the night stretched on, waiting for whatever chaos came next…