A Series of Coincidences

"ALERT: YOU LOST."
The flashing words appeared on the screen in massive red letters, followed by a mocking musical jingle.
"The Boy" wiped the sweat from his forehead (carefully avoiding the bandage) and smiled.
Three full hours of playing the game. Survis Deficere (To Survive is to Fail).
"Three hours..." the boy muttered to himself, holstering the game gun and stretching his fingers that had cramped from pressing buttons too much. "If you want movement, buttons. If you want aiming, the gun. Switching between them requires expertise!... But yes, finally!"
He stepped back to admire his alias (A-SD) sitting comfortably in the top three of the leaderboard.
But his smile slowly faded.
The screen didn't stay static.
1st Place: (CYN) - Score: 99,999,999+ (Old)
2nd Place: (S.A.R) - Score: 1,000,000 (Old)
3rd Place: (L-01) - Score: 980,000 (Recent)
4th Place: (A-SD) - Score: 976,200 (Recent)
"Huh?"
The boy blinked. He leaned closer to the screen. The number wasn't a glitch. Someone had managed to surpass the stage where he lost.
He looked at the timestamp.
"Two minutes ago."
The boy spun around quickly, scanning the dark arcade hall. "Ludivista" was massive, a labyrinth of lights and noise.
"It's hard to find anyone playing this game nowadays," the boy muttered as he walked, inspecting the machines. "Mostly because of the first place score... but if anyone were to play, it would be to beat the second place."
The boy walked for a few minutes, passing by various games. He stopped when he saw a game with intense popularity; the arcade had even installed more than 50 units after its mobile release. The concept was simple: You are a small hacker who must escape a savage digital network. Every enemy is a digital virus appearing as a terrifying creature—a monster made of binary numbers, or a robot. The environment changes randomly during gameplay.
Despite the simplicity of the concept, it caused an addiction. Because...
"Finally, four hours!... Finally finished stage fifteen! I've..." shouted a young man wearing a cap.
But his joy didn't last long due to a blue message. "Excellent! Now... do you want to play the REAL round?"
Immediately after, the game restarted.
The young man's hand trembled because the game returned, but with faster and more terrifying opponents.
"Don't you think you need a break?" asked the young man's friend, trying to pull him away.
"But the save files and..." the young man said as he stood up.
"You know this is an endless runner game. Even if you save a stage, you might find yourself in a car race while you were playing a shooter. The tutorials won't help," his friend replied.
"But I still have the save file!" the young man insisted, pointing at the machine. But a red message appeared in bold font: "DELETED."
The save file had been deleted. Moments after his loss.
The boy saw the game and didn't care for it when it was released because of the name (Journey Through Code). Now, he was annoyed by it. The game that started free with a generic name had vanished from the store a year ago, and now only these machines remained, inseparable from their players. It was even used as an acceptable excuse for some Data students to stay playing longer.
He never got the chance to try it.
"They should have named it Survival in a Digital World or Digital War!" the boy said, hitting the machine with his hand.
"Hey, wait your turn!" said a man, returning to stare at the screen. "I'm here to learn from this encryption system," he said, recording the codes that appeared as his character was transported to a robot factory.
"From your typing, I think my turn will be the day after tomorrow," the boy said, walking away and ignoring the man.
Then he stopped.
"What did I want to do?" the boy thought out loud. "Right, the person who beat my score." He looked around and started walking.
"There are only five machines here for that game. It won't be hard to find him if he's still playing around."
The boy walked through the narrow aisles, his eyes scanning the machines. The first machine was empty. The second had a kid playing well, but not leaderboard material... And now, the third. The machine was in the corner on the right. There was no crowd around it, just one person. A boy wearing a dark red hoodie (the color of dried blood), the hood partially pulled over his head. His right hand was gripping the game gun.
The boy looked at the screen where the boy in the red hoodie was playing in a rapid mode.
He saw the numbers climbing. 60,000. 75,000. 80,000.
"So he kills the stage boss directly instead of fighting the minions," the boy said, watching the red hoodie boy's screen.
The boy in the red hoodie didn't turn around. His fingers continued to press the trigger with a semi-robotic rhythm, his eyes fixed on the screen as if it were the only thing in the world.
"They are just filler," said the boy in the red hoodie in a quiet, bored voice, without looking up. "Killing minions gives you 50 points. Killing the boss in under a minute gives you a Time Bonus: 50,000 points. The math is simple."
"Yes, but..." the boy said, raising a finger. "One, two, three."
Bold red lines appeared.
RESULT: YOU LOST.
SCORE: 200,000.
"The health bar won't increase," said the boy in the red hoodie, stretching his back. "Negative versus positive. I won't waste my time."
"Aren't you playing to waste your time?" the boy asked.
"I don't waste my time wasting my time," the boy in the red hoodie replied, standing up and starting to leave.
"It's your game and your time, do what you want," the boy said, shrugging indifferently, then looked at his phone.
"Not many points left," the boy muttered as he put his phone in his pocket. "Too early to recharge points." The boy headed towards the exit.
As the boy left, a ringing sound with a strange tone emitted from the phone of the boy in the red hoodie, who was walking alone in the hall.
The boy in the red hoodie looked at his phone, then hung up the call without answering.
Then he sat at one of the machines and started booting it up.
In the Central Island, Street 23, in the Market District.
Sitting at a table in a reserved upper-floor café was a man who looked to be in his fifties, though his hair was dyed black.
"Is there a response?" the man asked, looking at the young man sitting across from him. The young man had light brown skin, short black hair, and wore a strong red jacket open at the front over a black shirt.
"He hung up," the young man said, lifting his tea. "He has no reason to work with you after that deal," he completed in a calm voice.
"But you have to ask him, I..." the man started.
"Innocent, didn't do anything... targeted without reason... I've heard this a lot," the young man said, putting down the tea cup.
The man swallowed hard because the young man finally looked at him, opening his eyes slightly. They were black. Then he returned to looking at the tea cup. "Mostly true," the young man continued. "But an incident like this? It's 100% an accident."
"But!..." the man slammed the table. "That's impossible, it's..."
"Why did you have chemical substances and alkali metals?" the young man asked.
"...."
"Coincidence," the man said with a stoic face.
“...... “
"By coincidence... you had flammable materials. By coincidence... there was a short circuit. By coincidence... the weather conditions were perfect. By coincidence... you had alkali metals. By coincidence... all your crew was in the building. By coincidence... there were civilians, specifically Espers of the Nebula - Collapsed stage and Proto Star - Formation stage, who had no relation to the building, inside," the young man said while sipping tea. "And all these 'coincidences' happened at the exact same moment." The young man leaned back in his chair. "I can't help you when you have such distinguished luck."
"But... aren't you a member of the organization Epsilon!?" the man said, pointing at the young man.
"A recruit, to be precise. Also, did you request me in my capacity as an Epsilon member?... You know the organization's function, right?" the young man said.
"You know... fighting Espers and capturing them?" the man said.
The young man tapped his finger on the table, still smiling.
"True, still the same thing, but not for the same reason as in your era. As members, they were exterminated about 9 years ago, and about 4 years ago the organization's policy changed," the young man said.
"Why are you telling me this?" the man asked.
"I'm telling you that the organization no longer hunts Espers and criminals as new lab rats," the young man opened his eyes slightly. "Not to mention not getting involved in gang conspiracies... Isn't that the reason you requested me and didn't submit a formal request to the organization leader? With the character of Vortex, I think he would help you if you were, as you know, just 'unlucky'. Although he isn't stupid enough to believe your story."
The man gritted his teeth.
"Alkali metals and chemical substances, why would I need them in the building?... It's obvious it was an outside job. I requested you because you are an Esper specialized in metals... I need you to find where exactly the alkali metals were."
"My ability isn't searching for clues. Also, even if I accepted this, your story has many holes. One of them is why there was a Proto Star - Formation stage Esper. Even if you say they were new job candidates, there were also Nebula - Collapsed stage Espers, and they were the majority," the young man said. "...Just end it and say what exactly you did, old man."
The man sighed.
"Just keep this between us," the man said, lowering his voice.
"Something big, then," the young man said.
"I obtained 'The Nectar' and..." the man said while checking to make sure no one heard, then looked at the young man again to finish his sentence but stopped when he saw the boy's eyes wide open on him. He felt a shiver on his skin.
"R... Ryder?..." the man said.
Ryder sighed, closing his eyes.
"Forget Epsilon now. The fact that you are alive means what you possessed wasn't The Nectar," the young man said. "Haven't you heard? It's no longer possible to produce it."
"Impossible, I got it from a trusted source and..." the man said.
"A trusted source selling you a product the scientists themselves no longer use? The ones who produced it are dead now, as you know, since about 4 years ago when the series of 'Unfortunate Events for Those Scientists' began." Ryder leaned back in the chair. "The original blueprints were destroyed, and the stored data was corrupted. You should know this if you know about Nyctopolis."
"But the source is someone who knows the scientists and..." the man continued, then fell silent.
"I think you understood yourself, huh?... If the source was willing to sell you The Nectar... why didn't they just do it with larger organizations?" Ryder pointed at the man. "I don't know who the source is, but I don't think you deserve something like The Nectar.”