To Escape This Hell
……………
Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the steel-plated window. It was around ten in the morning, probably. Santa Esperanza's mornings were oppressively muggy. When I sat up, my whole body ached. And not because I'd crashed on an uncomfortable sofa—I'd slept in Catalina's bed.
My throat was parched. Probably from all the beer last night, plus the sweat... and various other fluids. Fragments of the night before flashed in my mind: despair, beer, Catalina, warm and wet... ahem.
'That Risema suicide idea... what a insane thought.'
Dying wouldn't solve anything. Nothing at all. Sure, Risema was still an option. Stick the Colt in my mouth and pull the trigger right now, and I'd probably wake up back at that café with the three goddesses waiting. But that'd be it. Would the next world be easy and comfy? Could I find a normal person and have normal love? No way in hell.
Just look at the three worlds I'd been through so far—Han Minseo's world, Yeoreum's world, Ma Hyuksu's world. All of them had bullshit conditions, right? So the odds were high the next one would be the same. And if I kept failing these trials, my soul wouldn't hold out—it'd crumble to ash and vanish. Game over.
I shuffled into the living room. Catalina was already up, sipping coffee. She wore the same tank top and dolphin shorts as yesterday, but the red marks on her neck caught my eye.
"Coffee?"
"Yeah."
The instant coffee's aroma hit my nose. The first sip's bitterness stung my tongue, sharpening my mind a bit. Time to think realistically now. The guide had ditched me, and Santa Esperanza was still a hellhole. But hope wasn't gone. There were ways out of this city.
'Let's see...'
I pulled out my phone and opened the banking app to check Ma Hyuksu's account.
Eight months of world-hopping: business-class flights, five-star hotels, cruises. The spending history stared back at me.
'This guy's been burning through cash like water.'
Ma Hyuksu had blown every penny from savings and stocks without a second thought. Impressive in all sorts of ways. The silver lining? His principal was massive. He'd started lump-sum investing right after turning adult and multiplied his seed money several times over. Plenty left even now—enough to live lavishly in Korea for years without working.
The issue was cashing it out here.
Ma Hyuksu had researched online before coming to Santa Esperanza. The local currency was basically worthless paper. Hyperinflation was so bad even locals trusted dollars more. And for building assets beyond pocket cash...
'Bitcoin.'
Cryptos were cartel favorites for laundering—borderless, no government oversight.
My plan was simple: convert the account to Bitcoin, exchange it locally for paper dollars, buy a car, and drive to the capital's airport. Fees and exchange rates would eat maybe half in the worst case. But for the price of my life? A bargain.
Problem was, I couldn't do it alone. I didn't know the city's rules. Where to exchange, who to trust, what car from where.
"Cata."
"What?"
"Got something to discuss."
I set down my mug and faced her.
"Know any spots in town for Bitcoin trades?"
She tilted her head.
"...Coin? Why the sudden interest?"
"Need escape funds."
I was straight with her. No point hiding it—this plan needed her help.
"Got money in my account. Korean cash. Convert to Bitcoin, then dollars, buy a car."
"A car?"
"Yeah. Junker's fine. Just get me out of Santa Esperanza to the capital airport."
She took another sip.
"...Theoretically doable. Bitcoin trades are big here—local currency's trash, so everyone's on dollars or coins."
Internet research checked out.
"But issues."
"Like?"
"One, big exchange draws eyes. Rumors spread no matter what. Cartels, cops—flies will swarm guaranteed."
Expected that.
"Two, decent cars are rare. Most are stolen a dozen times, beaten to hell, zero maintenance. No telling how far they'll go."
I'd braced for that.
"Three, the road to the capital. Checkpoints, and outside Santa Esperanza? Other cartel turf. Avocado cartel, drug cartels."
The last was the killer.
"...Avocado cartel?"
"Exactly what it sounds like—avocado growers. US and China buy tons. More legal than drugs, but they still do dirty work."
Silence hung.
"Got it. Risks clear. But... better than rotting here waiting to die."
"..."
She drummed the table.
"Know a broker for exchanges, but..."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Not trustworthy, but in this city, trustworthy guys don't survive. Fees are brutal—30% gone."
30%. Absurd, but no choice.
"We'll eat it."
"Car... tricky. Money doesn't guarantee one. Need a dealer first."
Problems piled up. But quitting wasn't an option.
"Start with the exchange. Tackle one by one."
She stared, then sighed.
"Fine. I'll help."
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me—you wouldn't move an inch without me."
True enough. I knew zilch about Santa Esperanza; she knew it all.
"Meet the broker this afternoon. Get ready."
She stood.
"One thing: plans never go smooth here. Especially grand escape ones."
Ominous, but born of experience. Anyway, we were moving. Beats sitting and dying.
……………
Two p.m. Santa Esperanza's back alleys reeked of sewage and rotting trash.
Our spot was too shabby for an exchange—steel bars on a tiny shop, no sign but spray-painted 'CAMBIO'. Yet a guard with a submachine gun loomed by the bars. Proof it wasn't some hole-in-the-wall.
"El Flaco. This guy's looking to swap coins."
"Catalina, long time."
The guy behind the counter greeted her. El Flaco—Skinny, fitting his skeletal frame.
His eyes hit me.
"Chino?"
"Korean."
"Right. How much coin?"
I showed the exchange app's Bitcoin balance.
He whistled.
"Nice haul. All today?"
"Yes."
"Fee's 35%."
"Heard 30%."
"Standard. Big fish like this? Risky for us. 35% or no deal."
'Fucking prick.'
Highway robbery. But walk out, hunt another spot? He could tip them off. Wasted effort, rumors fly. Big-money outsider? Bad news all around.
"...Fine."
Sent the Bitcoin to his wallet. Minutes of verification, then he cracked the safe. Bundles of hundreds poured out. I counted and bagged them. 35% gone, still a fortune.
El Flaco lit a smoke, exhaling.
"Big cash like this—what for? Guns? Drugs? Or... girls?"
He eyed Catalina on "girls"—whatever. Expected question. Info's money here, and I was flush. Knowing what a foreigner buys? Profitable.
He wanted another bite. But I needed a car dealer anyway. Better use him than hunt blind.
"Buying a car. Know a reliable dealer?"
"Car? Road trip?"
I stuffed dollars instead of answering.
He laughed.
"Don't care why. You want a car—that's key. My cousin's a used-car guy. Got good stock."
This city: everything connected. Exchange owner's cousin a dealer? Seamless.
"Can you introduce?"
"Sure. After this deal? Easy."
El Flaco called. Rapid Spanish. Done, he said:
"He'll be here in thirty. Wait."