Carson hadn't slept a wink all night. He tossed and turned, his mind replaying the fascinating new thing he'd seen yesterday.
Eventually, he got up from bed and started rummaging through drawers and old coat pockets, managing to scrape together just a handful of small change—barely a few euros.
Clearly, that wasn't going to cut it.
Looks like he'd need to take a few day jobs to make it happen.
The moment he'd seen the FIFA game the previous day, he was completely hooked.
To him, the visuals were stunningly realistic—watching a little on-screen figure move so lifelike was far beyond anything he'd expected.
And beyond that, the cheers of the virtual crowd, the thrill of scoring goals—this kind of immersive experience? It was amazing.
...
...
And according to the young bartender, football was just one type of game. Once you owned that console, a whole world of exciting things opened up to you.
All of a sudden, even getting into fights started to feel kind of dull in comparison.
The next morning, Carson went straight to the "Spin & Sip" bar.
It had just opened for the day, and the bartender was surprised to see him.
Normally, customers wouldn't show up at this hour. Most had work, and those who didn't—well, they were usually sleeping in.
"Mornin', sir. You're here early."
"Hmm? I'm here early? Someone beat me to it?" Carson was taken aback.
The bartender nodded. "Yeah, one of your buddies showed up even earlier. He ordered a beer and hasn't moved from in front of that game console since."
Leaning on his broom, the bartender gestured toward the bar's main room, where a bulky guy was laser-focused on the screen.
Carson walked in and immediately recognized him—it was Owen, a guy built like a tank and well-known for being good in a fight.
But right now, Owen was in a tracksuit, hunched over, gripping a tiny controller in his big hands, eyes locked onto the TV screen.
Another match was playing out on the FIFA game.
The bar owner's son—the young bartender from before—was sitting nearby, yawning heavily.
He'd stayed up late playing other games himself, and was still half-asleep. But early that morning, one of the staff knocked on his door, saying a customer had specifically asked for him and promised a tip.
The bartender didn't want to miss out on making money for the bar, so he dragged himself out of bed—only to find out the customer was this hulking guy.
At first, he was nervous, afraid the guy might get angry if something didn't go right.
But those fears disappeared quickly.
Owen had simply shoved a 100-euro bill into his hand and told him to bring beer—then immediately took over the only game console in the bar.
He also insisted the bartender show him how to play the game.
The night before, Owen had wanted to play badly, but someone else had hogged the console too long, so he'd gone home frustrated. That morning, he rushed over, beating everyone there—just to finally play the FIFA game for himself.
He couldn't quite explain why it interested him so much—he just felt it was worth trying.
And now here he was, completely absorbed, unable to look away.
Even when Carson walked right up behind him, Owen didn't seem to notice.
Carson quietly watched him play from behind.
The young bartender kept yawning.
By now, he really didn't need to do anything else—Owen was fully in the zone, opening beers and playing, not paying attention to anything around him.
The more Carson watched, the more he wanted a console of his own.
"Hey, are you selling that console?" he finally asked the bartender, unable to hold back anymore.
He figured if he had to wait until he saved up enough, it'd take forever. It wasn't that he couldn't afford it—electronics weren't too expensive in Europe—but he needed it now.
"That one?" The bartender pointed at the Suri console.
Carson nodded.
"Hmm… that might be tough," the bartender replied. "If I sold it to you, the others would be mad—they're all waiting for their turn. But I can help you pre-order one. I was planning to buy a new game myself anyway. Should take about a week… actually, probably just three days."
"Three days, huh… How much will it cost?" Carson asked.
"Let me do the math. You want one console and one game, right?"
Carson nodded eagerly.
"Alright, should be around 350 euros. But you don't need to pay me right now—you can pay once it arrives. Just make sure you're quick about it, or someone else might snatch it up."
Carson instantly panicked. "No no, I can pay! Just give me a little time!"
The bartender smiled. "No worries. If you're really that into games, I don't mind covering it for now. But—there's one condition. Think you can agree to it?"
"Name it! You want me to beat someone up? Teach someone a lesson?"
The bartender facepalmed. "No… I just wanted to ask if maybe you guys could keep it down a bit in the bar from now on?"
Carson didn't even hesitate. "Of course. No problem at all."
He figured if he really wanted to fight, he could always go elsewhere. Right now, though, fighting was the last thing on his mind—he just wanted to play FIFA.
"Oh, and by the way," the bartender added, "a new football game just came out too. I think it might be even better than this one. Want to give it a try?"
Carson looked surprised, pointing at the screen. "Even better than this?"
He already thought FIFA was amazing—could something really beat that?
Now he was curious.
The bartender nodded. "Yeah. If nothing goes wrong, I think it's going to be even more fun."
"Then I want that one!" Carson said quickly.
Right then, Owen turned around and added, "Count me in. I'm getting one too. We'll split the cost together!"