₦airaland Forum

This man is crazy make we no lie.... How he blend reality with his fiction is beyond imagination... Ride on boss. You got a fan back today...😀😀😀😀 I'm super excited

Team countless is here man. You never lost your touch this man... You only upgrade...😀😀😀😀 Why dragging my United into this nau...😀😀😀😀

xaviercasmir:
Nice one boss.
you are not far from the truth concerning Manchester United but haba na saying that we cannot to watch them to avoid questioning our existence is going far
Up United

the guy is unserious jare... Using my United to catch cruise...m😀😀😀

TemiGURL:
the guy is unserious jare... Using my United to catch cruise...m😀😀😀

don't mind him na Chelsea fan him be

The return of the blessed man…
Gen gen

pFolar:
Welcome back my love. I've really missed nairaland. You don't know how happy I am to see your new story. Ride on love. Gat your back❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

ehhhhh... Seeing your monicker here again gave me sweet feelings.... Thanks for showing trust by entering this bus again... And I promise you this time, the driver will not abscond....😂😂😂😂

ghettochild:
The return of the blessed man…
Gen gen

longtime my boss... Seems you've been steady on this space all these while... I'm afraid nairaland literature section isn't what it used to be ....the engagement have died down. I think...

xaviercasmir:
don't mind him na Chelsea fan him be

Chelsea fan bawo.... I no belong to Chelsea o my bro

TemiGURL:
the guy is unserious jare... Using my United to catch cruise...m😀😀😀

tell your united to stop making their fans cry week in week out na... The torment no dey tire you?😂😂😂😂

TemiGURL:
Team countless is here man. You never lost your touch this man... You only upgrade...😀😀😀😀 Why dragging my United into this nau...😀😀😀😀

welcome madam... Even your signature still carries our name... I really appreciate... You are awesome... Gracias

PrinceOFprince:
This man is crazy make we no lie.... How he blend reality with his fiction is beyond imagination... Ride on boss. You got a fan back today...😀😀😀😀 I'm super excited

the prince himself... When I saw Smartestpopqueen comment, I knew you won't be far behind... Thank you for joining again... Let's do this together bro... I'm counting on you. Update dropping soon.

xaviercasmir:
Nice one boss.
you are not far from the truth concerning Manchester United but haba na saying that we cannot to watch them to avoid questioning our existence is going far
Up United

you know Man United is the meme of all clubs right now... That club is not serious 😂😂😂😂

dawno2008:

TBM himself you'll never change, imagine rule 4
"Never watch Manchester United match before a mission"

Thanks for the mention,no capping 💯

you absolutely welcome my bro.. 😂😂😂

This one na real banger .. this manyou be baddest... Ride on my guy...

goodnessme1(f), Riele(f), makydebbie(f), AnalQueenluci, Petyprincess(f), Slimzjane(f), Clarabarbie(f),

Na your story dey carry me enter nairaland. So when I saw your post on your WhatsApp, that you are back.. I danced baje. so ride on my boss
you be tha bomb wey nairaland need

Baba TBM,how far nau,I just checked in and see say every where silent, wetin dey sup nau abi maresca still dey cry from man u defeat? I even hear say the dragon abi na lean Lion wey dey Chelsea logo don lost

And about your observation on Nairaland literature section, truly it has lost that old spark,but you can't blame the writers,cos the site owner who's making so much from other people's intellectual products,seem to care only about himself,no incentive or any form of support,and just like you,many of them write for free audience.

Abeg jor, enough of all this yeye gist,abeg drop story nau,I don miss Darous and him actions,and truly wetin Chuka talk na true,how did Darous miss that evil lady,he allow smile lead am astray
It's all good,I hope you're good anyways,I miss you baba

Episode 8 - The mission

There’s this old saying: “Be careful what you wish for.” Normally, I’d just laugh and scroll my mind past it faster than new memes go viral on twitter. But now? Omo, that proverb is dragging my life by the collar.

Because once upon a time, my existence was so boring, I started to suspect maybe I was a side character in somebody else’s story ganself.

My day to day activities was basically: phone glued to hand, scrolling like I was the Minister of Other People’s Enjoyment.

If I have construction work to do, I go to site, come back in the evening to meet up with my friends and go home. And on days when there's no site work, I'd be in my apartment all day. If SportyBet decided to pity me, I’d honor the win with garri and groundnut like it was five-star delicacy. But if it went the other way? I'd always find a way to blame president Tinubu for my sporty bet loss.

But fast-forward to now — my life has turned into a full-blown action series. The kind you can compare with Efe’s wahala in Kemi Adetiba’s To Kill a Monkey.

Sometimes I just pause and ask myself: “Darous, na you be this? How you take land Nollywood lead role without audition?”

The next day after we freed Jude and I completed my so-called initiation into the Circle, I tried to pretend everything was back to normal. You know — brush teeth, wash face, acting like I'm cool with Dembele winning the Balon Dor ahead of my own Lamine Yamal, but well, nothing spoil.

That morning, my phone rang. And the name that flashed on the screen? Mrs. Adeoye.

At that point, my spirit just sighed. She is probably calling to tell me my quotation is declined or otherwise. But people don't call you to tell you they can't give you the job here in Nigeria. They just use your quotation to compare with other people's quotation and that's the end of it. If you are lucky to walk past the place in the future, that's when you'll see that the work had been done. So in pure and cheer uncertainty of what to hear from her, I picked the call.

““Darous, I’ve seen the quotation you sent.”

“Yes ma, I sent it to you like two days ago on WhatsApp.”

“The money is much,” she sighed, “but I don’t think I have a choice. The event is this weekend. So can you come and start today? I don’t want my guests seeing that kind of thing in my house. They’ll think I’m going broke….”

At that moment, joy nearly lifted me to heaven. The amount I wrote inside that quotation? Ehn, it’s enough to complete the foundation of a two-bedroom apartment with all rooms ensuite. But here’s this madam, casually agreeing to drop the same money just for a wall — a wall that is barely thirty-six square meters. Chineke!

“No problem, madam,” I replied quickly. “By the time I finish, that wall will be smoother than a red carpet at the Balon Dor gala night.”

She chuckled small. “Sha don’t bring lazy boys to my house. If anything embarrasses me, your name will trend on the internet — and it won't be in your favor.”

I grinned. “Madam, don’t worry. After I finish, even the governor will want to come and take selfie with this wall.”

This time she laughed properly. “Better. Send me your account details for advance payment… I’ll be watching you.” Click. Call ended.

Omo, I no waste time. I sent my details sharp-sharp. Then I gathered a few of my most trusted boys — the ones that won’t disappear once money enters their hand. We hired one danfo that could manage to carry all our tools, and after a few hours of Lagos traffic, we finally landed at her house.

I put my whole sweat into that work. After all, she paid me like I was building Third Mainland Bridge. She wanted quality, and I was determined to give her wall the kind of finishing that Michelangelo would clap for.

Three days later, the wall was ready — straight, clean, shining like it had a skincare routine. Mrs. Adeoye walked back and forth, inspecting it like an exam invigilator. Finally, she released a satisfactory nod.

For a brief moment, life felt normal again. I even felt proud. Proud in a stupid, small way — but proud all the same.

I went to meet the guys at our usual joint. I hadn’t seen any of them since the warehouse thing — we’d only been chatting on the phone.

Walking into that place felt like unlocking a missing part of me. We started ordering drink after drink, meat and fish plates kept landing on the table like it was a buffet for kings. Before I knew it, fifty K had left my account.

You know how it is — you start saying beautiful nonsense to justify reckless spending. I told myself, “We only live once. What if I die tomorrow? Who will enjoy the money I work my bone to get? Somebody go use am to buy festival jollof and carry OS.”

The mood was high. We were gisting nonsense — Kenny insisted Nigeria would only get better if Broda Shaggi became president, and Baba T argued vehemently that his father and Dangote are distant cousin. Jude told him they will remain distant unless his father can make crazy money that will bridge the gap.

As the alcohol piled up in me, Jude pulled me aside. He had that worried look on his face.

“Listen,” he said quietly, “you know your mouth no dey behave when alcohol enter brain. This is not the time to get drunk and start talking about the Circle o. Not Kenny, not Baba T, nobody. If you run your mouth, people we love fit suffer shey you get?.”

I nodded.

Kenny, of course, was suspicious. “Guy, you’re hiding something. This quiet thing no pure. What's going on?” He inquired.

“na work stress jare. Three days of tireless working with that woman is not an easy thing.” They all nodded in response, but Kenny's eyes stayed sharp on me.

That night I messaged Chuka on his private line because Bola's name kept coming back into my head.

“Boss, any news about Bola? I can’t reach her. I checked her place, the gateman told me she traveled.”

"Who is Bola?” Chuka answered.

I told him who I meant. "The same Bola na, you met me in her place that day na"

He replied blunt: “That house belongs to the Circle. She used it only for a mission. Forget the name. Don’t ask again.”

I got the warning. No long cap.
That night, just as I was about to sleep, my phone buzzed. A new message.

It was a one-time link. Under it, a warning: “No screenshot. No screen record. Read and memorise only.”

I tapped the link, and a private page opened. My first mission as a Circle member.

The instructions were sharp and cold. I had to blend in with a repair crew heading into a government building to do electrical and plumbing repairs the next day.

Inside that building was a vault — the place where confidential files are kept. They only open the vault once a week around two pm.
My job wasn’t to steal or touch anything. I just had to be standing close when the official wants to unlock the vault, to watch his hands, to memorize the rhythm of the lock.

They had already prepared everything needed for me. A backpack. Work clothes. A fake ID that shows my name as Xavier Casmir. Electrician.
Also, they had secured me a spot with the boss of the crew. All I needed was to show him the fake ID given to me by the Circle. They also told me not to use my phone to record anything inside the building. The reason for that still remains unknown to me till date.

As I read the last line, my heart nearly skipped a beat. My chest grew heavy. This wasn’t a small building — this was a government organisation, a place where one mistake could get me into deeper trouble. My mind started racing: What if I slip? What if they catch me staring at the vault? Lots of doubts on what could go wrong.

Sleep left my eyes that night. Fear wrapped around me like a second skin. For the first time, I realized: initiation was just the welcome party. The real terror lies ahead for me.

***


I retrieved the package the following day. I put on the clothes. They felt strange on me — like someone else’s skin.

I got to the location as early as possible. I showed my fake issued ID to the boss of the repair crew and he nudged me to walk inside with his boys.

We walked into the building with shovels , hammers, spanners and other tools.

The building was alive with movement. Cameras blinked from every corner. Guards stood stiff, like they were carved from stone. And there, in a quiet wing, sat the vault — thick steel, plain walls. The kind of door you see in those Netflix heist movies.

Our work area wasn’t far, but to actually see the vault being opened, I had to get closer. The only chance was to act like I was fixing something at the restroom entrance right beside it.

The mission brief had been vague. They told me the wing and the time, but not who would unlock it. That was the tricky part.

Almost every man in that building carried himself like a boss. Picking the one in charge felt like trying to choose a Ballon d’Or winner from thirty world-class players.

But I didn’t need to ask questions. I’ve always had this gift — call it instinct, call it street-sense. Stay around men long enough and you’ll know who truly holds the power. It’s never the loud one barking orders, never the one pretending to lead. Real authority hides in silence. And here, I saw it — one man they all paused for. They joked, they argued, but their eyes waited for his. He barely spoke, but I knew he will be the one to open it.

And the moment I realised it, the air around me changed. Every sound in that building — started to feel sharper, heavier, like the world itself was warning me that one wrong blink could scatter my whole life.


The repair crew gave me just one job: cut the wire with pliers, measure it, join it with another of the same color, then wrap it with black tape. That’s all. Simple. But I kept doing it again and again, the same steps, no change, for more than five hours.



About thirty minutes before the vault was set to open, everything nearly scattered. One huge worker — the one that had been watching me since I entered — finally moved.

“Are you really an electrician?” he asked, eyes sharp.

I pulled out the fake ID to shut him up, but he grabbed it, held it high, and read it loud like he wanted everyone to hear.

“Electrician?!” He smirked. “Good. Let’s test you. Come and fix this thing.”

He pointed at a junction box by the wall, wires twisted like angry snakes. Any real electrician would know the drill. Me? I only know blocks, cement, and walls. This was way out of my contractor skills.

I bent over, pretending like I knew what I was doing. My hand brushed the wrong cable and a spark hissed. Behind me, I could feel his eyes drilling into my back. I didn’t understand this man’s wahala. He’s just a fellow worker like me — not the boss. The crew leader already checked and accepted my fake ID. So why is this one behaving like he owns the whole company.

Then, without warning, he grabbed me and dragged me into a side corridor near the toilets.

“You're a liar!” he hissed, his fingers digging at my throat. “Who gave you that ID? Tell me now or I’ll finish you here.”

He pushed closer, voice low and furious. “I’ve spent my whole life working for this company, and you want to ruin our name by pretending to be what you’re not?”

He squeezed harder. Air left my lungs in a rush. “Tell me — or......”



I didn't let him finish before I reacted.

He shoved me against the wall but I quickly pushed back with an elbow straight at his ribs. He grunted but didn’t stop. He swung for my face — I ducked. He swung again — I shoved him into the wall.

We crashed into the boxes that were packed in one corner of the corridor . His breath came hot and heavy. He swung once more. I caught his arm, twisted it, and shoved him down into a stack of pallets. He fell rough on the tiled floor.

Then I remembered that move from an action series — 24. Jack Bauer style. Quick and brutal. I grabbed his wrist, twisted it hard, stepped behind him and used his own momentum against him. My shoulder rammed into his ribs, I hooked my forearm under his chin and pushed up. His head snapped back, eyes rolled, and he crumpled like someone switched off his lights. In seconds, he was out cold. I reset his head gently on the floor and got up.

I straightened my shirt, grabbed my tools, and walked out like nothing happened.
Outside, people were moving. The boss of the repair crew glanced my way and continued doing his thing. I kept walking towards where the vault is situated with the hope that I hadn't missed my chance to fulfil my mission.

As I walked toward the restroom — the only place close enough to see the vault — a guard blocked me. “This area is restricted,” he said, staring hard at me.

I forced a calm voice. “Our boss said I should check the light switch inside, so we don’t get blamed later.”

The guard didn’t move at first. His eyes scanned me from head to toe, like he was trying to read my mind. For a moment I thought he would call someone. Then slowly, he stepped aside.

“Be fast,” he said, his tone still sharp, like he didn’t fully trust me.

I nodded, walked in, but my heart was still beating fast.


From the corner near the restroom, I kept my head low, pretending to fix a light switch. My eyes never left the vault. The boss of the building I had marked earlier held some files in his hands, then walked toward the vault with those calm, steady steps. He placed his hand on the vault’s lock, turning it slowly, pausing like he was listening for a secret only he knew. Then came the final push.

The vault gave a sharp metallic click. My eyes fixed as he slid the files in and shut it again, like nothing ever happened.


I locked the rhythm in my head like a short tune. I didn't write it down. I just kept repeating it silently in my mind.


I entered the restroom and quickly sent the details of the vault opening to Chuka — the patterns, the timing, everything I had memorized. A moment later, his reply came: “Received.” He asked if there were any problems.

I typed back quickly: “No.”

Then he asked if I was sure of what I saw. I didn’t answer directly. Instead, I wrote: “The vault sings only once, and I heard it clear.”

His reply came fast: “Good. Once confirmed, you’ll be paid. Now leave the building.”

I slipped my phone back under my shirt and turned for the exit. For the first time all day, I felt my chest loosen. The task was done. The weight I had carried since morning finally shifted off me.

It hadn’t been easy — every second inside that building had clawed at my nerves — but I made it through. That thought alone sent a shiver across my skin.

I had survived the impossible. At least for now.

To be continued.

dawno2008:
Baba TBM,how far nau,I just checked in and see say every where silent, wetin dey sup nau abi maresca still dey cry from man u defeat? I even hear say the dragon abi na lean Lion wey dey Chelsea logo don lost

And about your observation on Nairaland literature section, truly it has lost that old spark,but you can't blame the writers,cos the site owner who's making so much from other people's intellectual products,seem to care only about himself,no incentive or any form of support,and just like you,many of them write for free audience.

Abeg jor, enough of all this yeye gist,abeg drop story nau,I don miss Darous and him actions,and truly wetin Chuka talk na true,how did Darous miss that evil lady,he allow smile lead am astray
It's all good,I hope you're good anyways,I miss you baba

Honestly, if not for people like you who keep asking me every day when I’ll write again, I wouldn’t have bothered at all. People think it’s easy to sit down and put words together, to make everything flow — especially when you know you won’t even get paid for it. It’s not fair that the owner of this site can’t even come up with a small package to appreciate writers. But it’s fine, nothing spoil. We keep moving. One love, my brother. Thank you for always staying loyal.

So my name don enter action film abi work .
Thanks boss for the nice piece

TheBlessedMAN:
Honestly, if not for people like you who keep asking me every day when I’ll write again, I wouldn’t have bothered at all. People think it’s easy to sit down and put words together, to make everything flow — especially when you know you won’t even get paid for it. It’s not fair that the owner of this site can’t even come up with a small package to appreciate writers. But it’s fine, nothing spoil. We keep moving. One love, my brother. Thank you for always staying loyal.

You're certainly right,I really appreciate you and other writers who try all they could to bring these stories, seriously it easy,

And e be like Darous don dey join bad gang 😂😂😂 Weldon baba,I feel you like Dembele dey feel balon dor

TheBlessedMAN:
longtime my boss... Seems you've been steady on this space all these while... I'm afraid nairaland literature section isn't what it used to be ....the engagement have died down. I think...

Yes I have been even tho nairaland isn’t like it was back then during ur era but as we no get any other platforms n have been addicted to NL, I no get choice ooo. No more literature like back then

TBM baba,how your end nau
Being awhile,wetin dey sup,this food is getting cold ooo
Stay blessed baba,hope to hear from you soonest 👍

Update dropping this Saturday.

But after this episode 9, if I don't see improvements in the reactions... I might as well move everything to my Facebook page o... And it will only be accessible to those that have been showing reactions since the first episode. To be forewarned is to be forearmed.

Pls stay here. We appreciate you

Welcome back darusmart son of god of songo
I can still remember how u kept me glued and refreshing literature section of nairaland everyday back then just to read ur interesting write up then
Welcome back once again .
Trust me ur last part “the dog attendant” was such a master piece but life happen .
With the beginning of this one im already hooked up
Am still ur loyal fans .
God bless u
More ink to ur elbow .

Dedicated to my own blood sister. Eniola Idowu on the occasion of her birthday. Happy birthday love. Many happy returns of this day. Much love from big bro...

Episode 9 — Nights and new doors.


The next day, I was still on my bed, fingers glued to EA Sports on my phone when Chuka’s name flashed across the screen.

“Send me your crypto wallet address,” he barked. No “hello,” no “how far.” Just raw command, Abacha style. Before I could even respond, he ended the call line.

I shrugged, typed out my Ethereum address, hit the send icon and went back to my game. Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with a Binance notification.

Ξ2.46 ETH.

Roughly two million naira.

I froze. My thumb hovered in the air like it wasn’t mine anymore. Then I burst out laughing, rolling on the bed.

“For just spying on a vault?” I muttered, shaking my head. “No wonder Bola dey wear gold chain anyhow.”

The Circle was beginning to make sense. Dangerous, yes. But maybe worth it.

Chuka followed up with a short text:
“Keep this up. You’ll be at the top before you know it.”

Later that evening, I called Jude — the only one among us who knew about the Circle.

“Guy, you won’t believe what just hit my account,” I said, grinning to myself like a fool.

“Talk joor... Ogbeni or gerraaah here,” Jude replied.

I told him everything — the mission, the fight, the vault, and now the money.

He whistled long and hard. “Darous… two million for that small stunt? That’s not a reward o, that’s plain blood money if you want to hear the truth. No one pays that much for doing that simple thing you said you did. You sef think am na...”

I laughed. “Blood money? Dey play ...Guy, you weren’t there. That mission almost killed me. One wrong move, and they’d be peeling my body off the floor.”

Jude went quiet for a bit, then I heard him drop a deep sigh over the phone. “Just be careful, my guy. I don’t like this thing. This life will eat you raw if you don’t shine your eyes wella.”

I leaned back on my pillow, smiling. “Relax. I’ve got a plan. Here's the plan. I’ll use the Circle... I swear, then stack my money, build myself a state of the art construction empire. And omo once I’m set, nobody , and I mean nobody — not even the Circle — can touch me. Na me talk am...”

“Hmm. Just remember what I said. Watch yourself,” he warned.

We ended the call, and later that day I took a Uber down to a resort center across town. Just to be able to watch the Athletico versus Real Madrid match in a very comfortable space. And that was when I saw her. Tiffany.... Ah, that girl eh... I will definitely give you a very nice gist about her later.. I promise... But not now. Maybe as the story unfolds sha. I'll tell you. But right now let me first start with this little gist about how I approached someone that's kind of way above my own league but because of my smartness and use of words, I was able to woo her to my side. Here's how it went down.

She was sitting by the poolside, laughing softly into her phone. A cream sundress floated around her, simple yet flawless. No loud jewelry, no heavy makeup. Just skin that looked like butter and eyes sharp enough to make a man forget his own name.

The kind of eyes that, if a pilot made the mistake of looking down from 30,000 feet, The country would be thrown into three days of compulsory mourning—because the poor man would have lost total control of the plane.
Her laughter? My guy, forget it. She wasn’t trying too hard, and that was the problem. She didn’t even know she was holding the world hostage by just existing.


For a moment, I just stared. My brain whispered only one thing: This polling unit must be mine. In simpler un-voting terms, I must have this one.

I chuckled, downed the last sip of my Mojito cocktail, and stood up. Shoulders back, chin up, casual swagger. The kind of walk that said: I’m not trying too hard, but I know you’ll notice me.

As I closed the gap between us, I rehearsed in my head on how to start a conversation with her without sounding too desperate.

“Excuse me,” I said, my voice calm but firm. She looked up, phone still pressed to her ear.

One brow arched. “Yes?” She said. Her voice came out soft and abrupt.

I smiled. “I don’t mean to disturb your call. But I swear the bartender made a mistake.”

She frowned slightly. “Mistake?”

“Yes,” I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “He was supposed to serve the most beautiful woman here this cocktail, but somehow, he brought it to me instead.”

For a second, she just stared, then chuckled, shaking her head. “You really practiced that line in the mirror, didn’t you?”

I grinned wider. “Honestly? No. If I had practiced, I would’ve added some music and fireworks to it.”

She laughed softly.

And just like that, Tiffany gave me her full attention.


“You know I was actually about to grab a seat, but I saw you sitting here all alone and thought—either you’re waiting for someone, or I just got lucky today.”

Tiffany laughs a little, glancing up at me again.
“Well… maybe you’re lucky. I’m not waiting for anyone.”

I smiled in a relaxed way.
“Perfect. That means I won’t be stealing anyone’s seat. Mind if I sit for a bit?”


“Sure, go ahead.” she replied with a hand gesture towards the chair opposite hers.

I pulled out the chair and sat down, keeping my tone light.


“Thanks. I should introduce myself properly before you think I’m some random guy disturbing your peace. I’m Darous. And you are…?”


“I’m Tiffany.” She replied with a faint smile.

“Nice. You actually look like a Tiffany… but not the type that gets into trouble. More like the type that makes people wonder, ‘How does she stay this calm while there’s war going on all over the world’”


“Wow, that’s a very specific description. You talk like you know me already.” She pretend to be shocked.


“Maybe I do. Or maybe I’m just good at reading people. For example… let me guess—you’re either a coffee addict or an ice cream lover. Which one?”

Tiffany laughs, while shaking her head.
“Definitely ice cream.”

I grin, and pointed at her drink.
“Knew it. You’ve got that ‘sweet tooth but innocent face vibe. That's a dangerous combination.”

“Haha, you’re funny.” she laughed hard.


“Funny is just my cover. I’m actually here trying to figure out why someone like you is sitting all alone. You don’t look like the type that should be left alone in public—you might cause accidents with all the stares.”


“Oh please, stop flattering me.”


“Who said it’s flattery? That was an observation. Trust me, I wouldn’t risk embarrassing myself with a bad pickup line.”

Tiffany narrowed her eyes but in a playful way.
“Hmm, okay oooo.”


““So, Tiffany, tell me—what kind of days do you like best? The noisy, crowded ones where you’re stuck separating two colleagues from throwing punches, or calm, quiet ones like this?”

“Calm and quiet, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Those noisy days give me headaches. And the last time I tried breaking up a fight, one of them shoved me so hard I ended up on the floor. Since then, I swore never to play referee again.” She gave a fake groan and shook her head.

I laughed. “No wonder you picked this spot—to recharge. Smart move. Most people don’t even know how to enjoy their own company. They’ll smoke weed for hours and then step it down with chinchin like it’s normal. Tell me that’s not madness.”

“That’s true, I guess.”


“You’re definitely interesting. And trust me, I don’t say that to everyone I meet. Now, if I wanted to continue this conversation another time, what’s the best way to reach you? Text, call, or do I have to bribe the eatery staff to reserve your favorite table for you?”


“Text is fine. It's cool...”

I smiled, then pull out my phone immediately.

“Text it is then. Let me save your number before you change your mind.”


“Who said I won’t?” She smiled teasingly.

And just like that, Tiffany and I went from two strangers at a resort to partners-in-laughter, trading inside jokes like we’d known each other since primary school. Her vibe was effortless, her laughter too real—and for the first time in forever, I forgot the world outside even existed.

She glanced at her phone, still smiling. “Okay, Darous… text me later. I need to confirm if you’re really this nice or if it’s just the cocktail talking.”

I grinned. “let me give you a fair warning my lady..." I leaned over the table so our eyes are now closer. " My texts come with the same side effects as hanging out with me: plenty of laughter and small trouble.”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “We’ll see about that.”

After almost an hour of pure vibes and gist, we finally said our goodbyes—me walking away with her number saved and a smile that refused to leave my face.


I got home that evening still floating—money sitting heavy in my wallet, Tiffany’s number saved on my phone. Honestly, I couldn’t tell which one excited me more.

To crown the day, I cooked myself a proper victory meal: rice and spaghetti with fried turkey meat on top. It took almost an hour to prepare, but I sat down like a king and started devouring it with pride.

Halfway through, my phone buzzed. Mrs. Adeoye.

“Darous! You’re invited to my party this weekend!” she declared the moment I picked up.

“M…ma?” I choked, blinking at the turkey leg in my hand. I hadn’t even expected her to call again, let alone hear her inviting me to a party. This was a woman who could snap her fingers and have engineers lining up to do her renovation—yet she’d chosen me. And now, she was dragging me into a gathering of society’s crème de la crème?

“Yes,” she repeated, no room for doubt. “Since you were so confident about the wall you renovated, it’s only proper you attend. Bring along responsible friends too, if you have any.”

I gave a nervous laugh. “Madam, me? A bricklayer? At your kind of event? I don’t think…”

She cut me off sharply but with warmth in her tone. “I admire your humility, Darous. But let’s be clear—you will be there. Your presence is as important as everyone else’s.”

I sighed, knowing resistance was useless. “Alright, madam. If you say so.”

Her laughter rang out through the phone. “Good. I like that you listen. See you this weekend.”

“She hung up, and I just sat there staring at my food. Yesterday, I was sweating over wires in a vault, fighting a man twice my size just to escape. Now, less than twenty-four hours later, a rich society woman was inviting me to her party.
Life was starting to feel like a movie. For the first time, I didn’t know if I was really living or just surviving near-death games, like those characters in Alice in Borderland.

To be continued.

Next update? E go drop when I see enough reactions to match the views. 😏 Not flexing o, but reactions are like fuel—na wetin we writers chop to keep going. That’s how I dey unlock the rawest part of myself into COUNTLESS. So abeg, no dull me… keep the vibes coming! 🚀🔥
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drewbar:
Pls stay here. We appreciate you

all depends on you oooo

Abdulreheem:
Welcome back darusmart son of god of songo
I can still remember how u kept me glued and refreshing literature section of nairaland everyday back then just to read ur interesting write up then
Welcome back once again .
Trust me ur last part “the dog attendant” was such a master piece but life happen .
With the beginning of this one im already hooked up
Am still ur loyal fans .


More ink to ur elbow .

I appreciate your comment my bro... Thanks for staying glued.

Though short,but always interesting to read,and don't you think Darous is letting out too much to Jude ,cos no one is clean yet,
As always thanks for the hot tips and sweet pick up lines, it's mature and savvy,just like same Darous I use to know
Thanks TBM,more blood to ya fingers

Baba TBM,you being dey sleep when man u,Chelsea, Liverpool and real Madrid collect wotoporously to day na bad day for many of us fans

dawno2008:
Though short,but always interesting to read,and don't you think Darous is letting out too much to Jude ,cos no one is clean yet,
As always thanks for the hot tips and sweet pick up lines, it's mature and savvy,just like same Darous I use to know
Thanks TBM,more blood to ya fingers



Baba TBM,you being dey sleep when man u,Chelsea, Liverpool and real Madrid collect wotoporously to day na bad day for many of us fans

Ah no kuku sleep oooo😂😂😂 I just say make I let sleeping dogs lie ni abi how dem dey talk am.

Anyways about Darous.. let's see if the werey don learn one or two from experience na.... 😂😂

Just finished gulping this masterpiece down again. This man is superb. Evidently your writing skills have greatly improved dear. As for Darous, he should be careful of that dude Jude o. My one cent sha. Ride on TBM. You da 💣

The man with the magic pen is back at it again. Sorry I've been away for a little while. Work, stress and family. But I gat you my dear. Continue soaring higher. You are loved. 😍