The Fool's Gold

Favour And Luck (1)

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of his alarm clock filled his ears, a shrill, piercing noise that made his head throb. As his eyes fluttered open, his face twisted into a frown upon being awakened by the alarm clock.

Sultan tried to turn off the alarm, but it was just out of reach. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he got up from the bed, still feeling dazed from the slumber. 

His feet hit the cold, hardwood floor with a thud. He shivered and started to make his way to the alarm.

Chirp-chirp!

Sultan heard the familiar sound of a new notification on his phone. He grumbled to himself, “Ugh. It's too early for this.”

He forced his eyes open and squinted at the bright screen, finally finding his phone and unlocking it.

Sultan squinted at the screen as he read the message from Jerry. It said, 'Hey, the boss wants us to work as waiters at the guest party at the Colonial Mansion tonight. Time is promptly 8pm.’

Sultan rubbed his eyes, dispelling the last vestiges of sleep. The message had banished any remnants of sleep from his eyes. "Oh my God, am I dreaming?" he exclaimed aloud, scanning his surroundings for any signs of a dream. 

But everything appeared as it should in his ‘modest’ apartment—his trousers on the floor, the trash can, and the clutter strewn about. His unmade bed was invitingly rumpled. Clearly, he wasn't dreaming; he was in his cramped, little space.

Turning his attention back to his phone, he chuckled, "Ha, I need to call Jerry." He unlocked his phone to dial Jerry's number, only to notice the time—it was already past 8 o'clock in the morning. "Oh my God, damn it," he cursed in frustration. "Why am I still here? How did I oversleep?”

Despite his irritation, he couldn't help but grin as he reread the message from Jerry. 

"It's unbelievable how the boss always dumps work on us like this. He doesn't even trust me. How?" Talking to himself, Sultan felt a mix of both happiness and urgency. 

He reminded himself mentally that he had to hurry if he was going to make it to work on time.

Mentally noting that he would inquire with Jerry about what might have put the boss in a good enough mood to make such a decision, Sultan stood up from the bed and mused aloud, "The Colonial, he's like the third most influential figure in the city. Everyone respects him for his high-ranking military position and his admirable family.”

Sultan continued to talk to himself, still unaware of the tarot card he was clutching in his hand. 

It wasn't until he looked down that he noticed it, and his eyes widened as he saw that it was the card labeled 'The Fool.' He stared at it in confusion. How was it back in his hand?

Sultan who felt exasperated at this point also felt a sense of resignation. “Not again,” he said under his breath, shaking his head. 

He was puzzled by the reappearance of the card, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. He had to hurry to get ready for work.

Recalling how he had found the tarot card on the floor the previous night, he had initially contemplated discarding it, but then he hesitated, fearing it might trigger another strange event. Instead, he carefully placed it on his bed, unwilling to tempt fate.

As Sultan was about to drop the tarot card, he noticed a striking difference—the front image had transformed.

The card no longer bore the image of a jester. Instead, it showed a golden coin, shining brightly. 

Underneath it were words: 'Just as a lucky coin brings you fortune, so does this identity of yours, give you favor.' Below the words was the same label that had been there before: 'The Fool.' 

Sultan stared at the card in disbelief.

Perplexed by the card's ever-changing appearance, Sultan inwardly questioned why it kept shifting, but he pushed the thought aside, deciding to revisit it later. Right now, he needed to rush off to work while concocting a good excuse for his lateness, or he'd be in trouble.

Perhaps, he pondered hopefully, his boss would be forgiving, given the good mood that had prompted him to assign him and Jerry to the Colonial's mansion that evening. 

“I have to hurry,” he said out loud, talking to himself as he moved. “I can't be extra late.”

Twenty minutes later, Sultan had showered, dressed, and was ready to head out. He was wearing his favorite cotton trousers, a bit faded white sneakers, and a clean blue shirt. He slung a bag over his shoulder, all ready.

Sultan double-checked to make sure everything was in order. He grabbed his keys and was just about to lock the door when he heard a voice that sounded amused, behind him.

"Hey, if it isn't Sultan Armstrong. What are you doing in this neighborhood?" It was a female voice, prompting Sultan to spun around to see who was speaking to him.

Sultan got a good look at the person standing behind him, squinting his eyes. She was a young woman with her hair pulled up into a bun, with bangs framing her face. She wore a short or rather, skimpy bright red dress.

Sultan couldn't deny that the woman was beautiful, but he was bothered by her attire. He felt it was inappropriate and crass. 

Despite her familiarity, he couldn't place her face. He studied her more closely, but her identity still eluded him.

Still, he continued to look at the woman, still unable to place her face. She stared back at him, and her smile was replaced by a look of annoyance. “You don't recognize me, do you, Sultan Armstrong?” she asked, her tone accusatory.

Sultan stood still, arms crossed, unable to speak. He would normally have politely asked for a hint if it had been any other woman, but he couldn't bring himself to say a word to this woman, not with her wearing such inappropriate attire - her revealing attire sparked a judgmental aversion in him.

He simply continued to stare, his gaze flickering to his old, worn-out wristwatch. Seeing that it was just minutes before nine o'clock, he realized he was dangerously close to being late for work and risking his job.

With a curt dismissal, he muttered, “I have to get to work,” he said gruffly. “If you need something, you'll have to wait until I get back.” 

With that, he hurried past her, leaving her visibly taken aback by his abrupt dismissal. ‘Did he just brush me off?' she thought, her face turning red with embarrassment.