There was a determined expression on her face that made it hard for Timothy to simply reject the request. But he was already leaning on rejecting her because he knew damn well that he was not really good at math. It was all thanks to the pill.
He had to come up with a reasonable explanation to turn her down.
"Uhm, I’m sorry but I don’t think I can," Timothy started carefully. "I have a part-time job. My schedule’s already packed, and—"
Timothy blinked. "What?"
Tiffany’s tone was matter-of-fact, almost impatient, like she had already expected his excuse. "I’ll pay you for every session. Handsomely." Find the newest release on novｅlfire.net
He stared at her, caught off guard. "How much... are we talking about here?"
She adjusted her glasses, her eyes never leaving his. "₱2,000 per session. Minimum two sessions a week."
Timothy’s jaw nearly dropped. "Two... thousand?" he echoed, almost choking on the words.
That was nearly triple what he made in an entire day at the café—and that was after running back and forth, sweating bullets for hours. In a week, with just two sessions, he’d make more than what he usually earned slaving away every night.
The offer was so tempting it made his chest tighten. And then, like a lightbulb, the thought clicked: This could be perfect.
If he suddenly started improving at math and showing signs of wealth, people would be suspicious. But if he was tutoring the burgis Tiffany Co. Rich, brilliant, and known for her connections, then no one would question it. It would be the perfect cover when he began using the Reconstruction System to earn real money.
Timothy rubbed the back of his neck, feigning hesitation. "That’s... a lot. You’re really sure about this?"
"Yes." Her tone was firm, the same determination in her eyes. "I don’t care about the money. I need to pass. And you..." she hesitated for the briefest second, "...clearly know what you’re doing."
His lips curled into the faintest smile. "Alright. Deal."
They both pulled out their phones. Tiffany’s was the latest iPhone, shining like it had just been unboxed; Timothy’s was the cracked old unit he’d been nursing for years. Well good thing he hasn’t opened his own Iphone or else she might get suspicious. They exchanged Facebook details without a word, the ping of a new friend request sealing their strange new partnership.
Just as Timothy slid his phone back into his pocket, the low hum of an engine pulled up beside the gate. A massive black LC 300 eased to a stop.
The chauffeur stepped out in a crisp uniform, opening the back door. "Ma’am Tiffany," he said with a bow of his head.
Tiffany turned back to Timothy one last time, her expression unreadable. "I’ll message you tonight. Be ready."
Without waiting for his reply, she slid gracefully into the plush backseat. The chauffeur closed the door with a solid thunk, circled to the driver’s side, and the SUV glided away like a silent beast.
Timothy stood at the gate, staring after it, the roar of jeepneys and the chatter of students suddenly dull in comparison.
He exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "Tutor, huh?"
The hiss of the espresso machine faded as Timothy hung his apron on the hook in the backroom. His shift was finally over. The café was empty now, the tables wiped down, chairs stacked, and the smell of roasted beans lingering in the air. He flexed his wrist, sore from five hours of bussing tables and taking orders.
"Goodnight, Tim," one of his co-workers called as they clocked out.
"Goodnight," he muttered with a tired smile.
He stepped out into the Manila night. It was almost 11 p.m., the streets around Katipunan quieter than usual but still alive with jeepneys rumbling by, tricycles darting through traffic, and the occasional group of students laughing too loud after a long day. Timothy adjusted his bag on his shoulder and began the walk toward the jeepney stop that would take him home to Tondo.
He pulled out the cracked-screen device, a blue Messenger bubble lit up the display.
Tomorrow. 8 a.m. Meet me at my condo. I’ll send the address.
Timothy stopped under a flickering streetlight. He stared at the message, re-reading it twice. Early morning? That was... unusual. But then again, he didn’t have class tomorrow morning. By some stroke of luck, or maybe fate, it actually lined up perfectly.
Another message appeared, this time with a pinned location.
One Serendra Residences, BGC. Don’t be late.
He rubbed his neck, half laughing to himself. "Tutor gig, huh? In BGC? What the hell did I just sign up for?"
But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. ₱2,000 per session. Twice a week. That was more than enough reason to hop on the MRT and make the trip across the city.
He typed back a quick reply.
Got it. See you tomorrow.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket.