Eight in the morning strikes the clock, and the chirping of birds nearby can be heard from inside Jeff's room despite all its windows and lone door closed. Unable to get dressed the other night because of two rounds of the most unusual form of cardio exercise known to mankind, he lazily gets up from bed, scanning his room for something that he can use to at least cover everything from his waist down. Opp, meanwhile, lies pronated on the bed – still, butt-naked, and covered with a blanket – his one leg spread and bent at a ninety-degree angle while the other is straight.

A knock disorients Jeff, being halfway through in wearing his boxers, which he finds on the floor. Immediately, he proceeds to the door, not minding being shirtless.

"Guten morgen, Herr Jeff," greeted Jannine after the door swings open, clutching a tray full of food.

"Good morning Jannine. Breakfast?" Jeff holds the door open as he stands slantly to hide something sturdy, which is far from softening any time soon.

"Yes, for you and your guest."

"That's great."

"Shall I go in and put this down on your desk?"

"Uhhh." Jeff, covering Jannine's line of site, glanced at his bed. Turning to lie on his back, Opp shoves away the blanket to reveal his morning wood. As he stretches silently, the lines and cuts that separate the different muscles on his frame become visible. "Fudge," Jeff said to himself: he cannot let her inside, as she will see an organic flagpole, which is not fitting for her eyes to behold. On the other side of the dilemma, he cannot just tell her to put the tray on the floor and dismiss her – will raise doubts indeed. "Well, what the hell. I'm covered unlike him." The voice in his head is firm on the action that the body should do.

Without warning, he lets go of the door and, with arms outstretched, gets what is on her hands. Awestruck after laying her eyes on a forbidden sight, Jannine covers her mouth with both hands, which she does just in time else there will have been a mess on the floor. "Oh dear," she whispered, staring at something below Jeff's torso.

"I'm so sorry about this, Jannine." Jeff crosses his legs in a bleak attempt to cover his own morning wood.

"Drink some juice from the pitcher, Herr Jeff: that will help you relax. Everything follows suit after."

"I will," said Jeff, forcing a smile.

"I'll close the door for you, Herr Jeff."

"Thanks." He backs away carefully, not neglecting to cover Jannine's view of Opp. After she closes the door, he turns around and makes his way to his bed.

"Junior ith very angry," teased Opp as Jeff comes close.

"Shut up, or I'll throw these at you," countered Jeff, glancing at the tray he is holding momentarily before facing his unlikely visitor again.

"I'm jutht thaying."

"Get dressed so we can start talking." Jeff lays down the tray and walks to his dresser to get a shirt – an open tank top.

"I prefer to be naked, thank you. I feel another round ith coming, and dith will thpare me from taking off my clowdths." The smirk on Opp's face reflects what he wants to have – again.

"The only thing you'll get from this moment on is a free breakfast and the cash I owe you." Jeff slides in his shirt. "These aren't just for me," he continued, sitting on the edge of the bed and pointing to the food.

"Oh yeth pleath," answered Opp, getting a toast and a spoon. "I love Nutella." He proceeds in opening its jar.

"I have complied with what you want," said Jeff, sipping his glass of juice. "I hope you will uphold your part of our bargain."

"Of courth, but who ith GP?" asked Opp, biting a portion of his Nutella-laiden toast.

"My boyfriend."

"Interethting. Infidelity huh?"

"EX-boyfriend." Jeff slightly raises his tone on the prefix. He, then, fills a toast with the egg salad – the other spread that Jannine brought to them. "I will get him back, and I need your help to do it."

"I muth thay you are off to a great thtart," sneered Opp, finishing his food.

"I will do anything to get him back, even if I have to sell my soul to the devil himself."

"I admire your paththion. Not many will do what you did lath night juth to get thomething you no longer have. Though, I'm confyuth." Opp makes an egg sandwich to try and gauge how it tastes.

"About what?"

"You thaid you're gonna get you ekth back, and you need my help to do it."

"Yeah." Being done with his sandwich, Jeff takes another toast and takes a spoon of the hazelnut spread.

"How? I don't thee how I fit into thith."

"Scylla and Charybdis. What do you know about them?" Jeff licks a portion of his spoon.

"Everything: I created them." Opp sips from his own glass of juice.

"Is that why your name is on every page of its reports?"

"Yeth. A thort of thignature."

"I don't get how they actually work. What I have are only guesses. Can you fill me in?"

"Like what you did to me last night?" Opp chuckles at his mean joke.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP WEERAPONG!!" Jeff can't contain his annoyance any longer from Opp's guilt-trip spree. "Besides I was wearing rubber, so nothing spilled inside."

"You thtill did fill the gap," said Opp. He pouts afterwards, pretending to give Jeff a kiss.

"Zip it; just tell me what I want to know; how do Scylla and Charybdis work?"

"I cannot tell you the thpethific: I can only give you clues."

"Fire when ready."

"Firthh off, the idea came from Top. You know him, don't you?" Opp bites off from his egg sandwich.

"Oh. Him, I know of. So, it was his idea after all." Jeff nods a couple of times, confirming his hunch to be true after all.

"Correct."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me that he needed two thythtems: one for fund tranthferth, and another one ath a thort of cabinet – a vault."

"So, which is which?"

"Thilla ith for the fund tranthder. Top told me that he needed thomething to which money can be wired under the table."

"Who transfers the money to Scylla, then?"

"He did not tell me." Opp wipes off a smudge on his lips. "He jutht told me that the thythtem mutht be capable of tranthferring fundth anytime and ath nethethary."

"I still don't get it. This would be easier if it will be coursed through a bank – physically."

"That's maketh two of uth, Jeff. I told him that too, but Top thaid he needed thomething furtive, and phythically going to the bank ith already out of the equathion."

"And Charybdis is the vault – the storage – I presume."

"The eggth are great by the way." Opp momentarily deviates from the topic and prepares another egg sandwich.

"Thank you. My housemaid is not only pretty, but she is a great cook too."

"But nowhere clowth to the egss I had the other night." Opp relays yet another reference.

"I am a tick away from punching you in the face, Weerapong."

"I thee that thith ith making you feel uneathy." Opp flashes a smile that is neither devilish nor cunning. It is a natural smile – something that can negate ill feelings.

"Yes, because I did it against my own will."

"But you were great – really. Dethpite you moaning GP over and over again while you were drilling me, you did great."

"I was imagining that I was doing it with him to lessen the guilt."

"It feelth great to be important to thomeone elthe even if it ith juth pretend – thomething that thertainly describeth what I have and had with otherth." Opp drops his smile, a subtle trace of sadness is slowly creeping in his face.

"Anyway, returning to what I was saying – Charybdis. Go."

"You are correct: Charybdith ith the vault, and thhe and Thilla are linked. Both of them are connected to Le Cargaithon'th bank therver. Although..." Opp finishes his sandwich and picks up his glass of juice.

"Although what?"

"Charybdith hath magic. Pat on my shoulderth for that," answered Opp after taking a gulp of drink.

"Care to explain, Weerapong?"

"Thilla taketh in money, then tranthferth it to Charybdith. Then from there, thorthery happenth: Charybdith then findth a bank where to put the money in. Onthe inthide the bank, it thtays there until it earnth intereth. Once done, Charybdith pullth it out, thearcheth for a bank again, then repeatth everything."

"Which means that one instance of a deposit will earn interest repeatedly?"

"Correct, and it ith not the original amount which will be yuthd, it will alwayth be the new one – after intereth."

Speechless, Jeff eyes and mouth round, surmising that the accumulated amount of money must be in a hundred million by now.

"Fathinating, aren't they. Though Thilla ith only for monitoring the money coming in from the sourtheth: there ith nothing thpethial about her. Charybdith ith the powerhouthe." Opp makes another Nutella sandwich.

"How does Charybdis do that? The interest, the putting into a bank – everything." Jeff reaches for his glass.

"Each time Charybdith taketh in a payment, thhee wrapth it in a digital bubble – like a briefkaith – then encrypth that bubble with a thypher – ten-twenty-four bit – that thecureth the briefkaith and the money in it."

"Jeez! Ten-twenty-four cypher? That's a thick one."

"Like the one you have that I put in my mouth lath night?"

Jeff face straightens up, triggered yet again at Opp's jest. "You really won't stop, will you?"

"You look more handthome if you're annoyed."

"I heard that a lot from GP before."

Snoring in response, Opp bites off a portion of his sandwich. "GP...GP...GP...GP dith and dath! Pfffttt," he said, rolling his eyes at Jeff's clingyness to his ex-boyfriend. "Anyway. After encrypthion, Charybdith giveth each briefkaith a digital footprint – an ID – then throwth it into the network. There, it stayth until it getth to a bank; it findth one; goeth in; earnth intereth; Charybdith pullth it out; dropth it to the network again; stayth until it findth a new bank; on and on it goeth until kingdom come unleth thomeone pullth the plug."

"The same bank? The payments go to the same banks each time, right?" Jeff sips from his glass.

"No." Opp raises what remains of his sandwich and waves it at Jeff. "It goeth to a different bank every time. It hath one in a million chanth of getting to the thame bank again."

"That's impossible. Once it is inside a bank, it is in there forever even if the account is closed."

"No itth not. It'th one the magics I armed Charybdith with. Goddamn I'm good," said Opp, biting off from his sandwich after.

"Would you care to explain how your spell works, Albus Dumbledore?" asked Jeff, while rubbing his temple with his hands – his response to Opp's narcissism.

"I know him – read all theven bookth; watched all eight movieth," replied Opp proudly. "Anyway, I aththum you have a phythical copy of Charybdith' report, right?"

"I have."

"Get the one named Printout 1."

Jeff gets the folder that Folk left to him days ago and fetches the report with the same name. "Here." He hands Opp the printouts.

"Firtht row, thecond column," said Opp, pointing to the text that corresponds the coordinates.

"Those are just random numbers, right?" Jeff finishes off his Nutella on the spoon.

"Nope. It'th actually a code – the digital footprint I thaid before – with each partithion having a different meaning."

"I'm all ears. Go on."

"Even if I say something from last night?" Opp flashes his playful yet devilish smirk.

"For the last time, Weerapong, sto..."

"Alright. Alright. I'm juth being an athth – thomething you thlapped tho hard latht night when you were under me."

Furrowing his brows until they meet just above the bridge of his nose, Jeff echoes a vexed aura towards Opp, who never drops his naughty smile.

"Look to where I'm pointing, handthome," said Opp, trying to get Jeff to follow.

Despite giving his guest a glare that can rival even that of Medusa or the feared Basilisk from Hellenistic Mythology, Jeff follows the command.

"Let'th take dith for ekthample – 120080700043019979001Y43," started Opp, saying each character out. "The firth two characterth are the numeric value for a month. The nekth three ith the bank code: that ith how Charybdith will determine which bank it will go." His finger moves along as he reads the components of the digital footprint.

"Jeez." In Jeff's awe, this is all he is able to say, dumbfounded at the adept talent of the one he is talking to.

"The two numberth nekth are the value of the day of the month. The nekth sikth are the firtth six digitth of an account number. The four numberth nektht to that make up the value of the year, while the nekth four to that are the remaining four digitth of the account number."

"So the date is December 12, 1997, when the payout was made? It was wired to account number 0004309001 which is under a bank with code 008, right?"

"Three out of three, Jeff. Naithly done."

"What about that last three characters?"

"That ith the unique ID for the entire bubble – or briefkaith. That ith what Charybdith yutheth to know which one to take back or put in."

"Charybdis can use the account number for that: it is unique and should be."

"Thhe can't: the bank code and account changeth. I wrote that feature for thecurity purpotheth."

"What? How?"

"I told you I'm good," said Opp, doing his signature wink again and for a number of times now. "While the bubble ith inthide the network, the bank code and account number changeth to another thet of valueth every ten thecondth. Dith will prevent the money from thtaying in one account for long and being homed in during auditth. If it getth detected, it will thurely raith quethionth ath it ith beyond the allowed amount that one can put into an account at any given time. When the money hath earned intereth, the bank code and account number retheths to X – each characterth in the format. That way, the bank thythem will identify it as analogouth enitiy. The briefkaith will be kicked out the bank and back to Charybdith' waiting armth."

"Then, one briefcase can earn interest multiple times in one go because banks implement different schedules on when their interest will take effect?"

"I'm that good, Jeff. I am that damn good." The arrogance in Opp is sublime and his delivery of the statement blatant.

"Props. Clap clap clap," said Jeff in retaliation, not doing a single hand gesture. "And Y23? I'm thinking that it doesn't change because you said it is unique."

"Correct."

"This seems easy," said Jeff, nodding as he has just come up with a ploy.

"What ith?" Opp drinks from his glass, which is half-full now.

"Getting the money – all of it."

"Ith that what you'll do to get your GP back? Bribe him?"

"More or less," replied Jeff, giving a smirk of his own to Opp as his plan is better – way much better. "Rake in the money using your unique ID and wait for it to come to me?"

"There ith no phythical money involved here Jeff: they are only information of it, and they are in a virtual briefkaith protected by an encrypthion. What will you do? Crack the bubble and take the money? There ith no way you can beat a one-thouthand-twenty-four-bit data encrypthion. If ever you beat the thypher and get the money in the briefkaith, you won't be able to get your handth on them unleth you wire it somewhere and do a physical withdrawal."

Jeff stops to ponder. What Opp just said is true and he did not say it put his spirit down: he knows what he is talking about, being also in the IT field.

"Another thing. aren't you thinking ten stepth ahead?" asked Opp, spreading Nutella to a new piece of toast. "Thowth virtual briefkaitheth rethide in a thecure cluthter where everything ith encrypted, and with their digital footprintth containing bank details, you will need to find a bank therver in the network to pinpoint and gather them. Unleth you will do your plan inthide Le Cargaithon itthelf, you are not pulling thith off."

"Why?"

"The bank therver. Do you know how long it will take to even detect one in a thecure cluthter?"

"I can do this – believe me," said Jeff, smiling as he bites off from the new sandwich he just made, the chocolate spread oozing out of it. He remembers that he will be starting a job in a bank the coming Monday.

"Your funeral." Opp, ever since they started talking, never bothers to cover his bare body, thinking that this will entice Jeff into another round of "cardio exercise".

"You said one needs to wire the money elsewhere to get them. So is that how Sutthirak does it?"

"No. Charybdith can detect how much ith in her pot. If Top wantth to pull out money, there ith a feature for Charybdith to do that: when activated, the thythtem will take a porthion from randomly thelected briefkaitheth to make the amount, then tranthferth that to Le Cargaithon's corporate bank account. From there, all Top hath to do ith write a cheque, indicate Le Cargaithon ath the payer, and voila – cold bundleth in hand. He could buy an island without breaking a thweat."

Keeping a straight face is hard for Jeff to do at the moment, impressed at the details that Opp is laying out. Never in his wildest daydreams did it occur that he would meet a hooker disguised as a formidable IT professional. "Another thing," said Jeff, maintaining a straight face.

"Shoot, handthome - like that second round facial." Opp spreads out the Nutella to another bread he picks out.

"Fuck you, Weerapong."

"That you did – not only onthe, but thrithe." Opp kisses the air again, pretending to land it in Jeff's lips.

"Whatever." Jeff exhales his anger first before proceeding. "The first payment was made in '97. However, the interface of those two systems doesn't look like something from the 90s. Care too explain?"

"I created them in the late 2010. I included a retroactive date feature for Thilla, which meanth I can thet a particular date for paymentth that were tranthferred pre-2010. Thothe were encoded manually into her, and thothe retro deytth will be carried to Charybdith upon tranthfer.

"So, for payments before 2010, they have been earning interest from an earlier year instead of the actual year they were encoded. That means..."

"They will earn more than what ith right. Have I not been thaying I'm good?"

"You are an F5 twister." Jeff glances away as he drinks the juice in his glass.

"Can I have thith latth piece of toatht?" said Opp, dismissing Jeff's derision.

"Sure. I'm full now," answered Jeff, looking back at Opp as he empties his glass of juice. "But I'd like to ask you one more thing."

"Shoot, handthome," said Opp, spreading Nutella over his bread.

"You seem to be a great programmer, but why are you doing this, Weerapong – hooking up with someone in exchange of money."

"It's a long story."

"I have all day to lend an ear: I'm not busy today. You also said that what you have for a long time now is a make-believe. What is that about?"

Biting of a portion of his food, Opp breathes in and out heavily for a couple of times: he is unsure of how and where he will begin, and the reaction from Jeff – he knows – will be somewhat like an ocean of embarrassment for him. "Can I take a thhower first?"he asked, believing that cold splashes of water will be enough give him the courage.

------

Author's Note

Okay, so Opp has this speech defect where he says his "S", "Z", and "X" sounds as "TH". However, despite this, I think he can do things with source codes that one can scarcely imagine: he is that good. What do you think? Is his condition in-born, or something happened to him that resulted in that? Watch out for that ;)

Interestingly, with all that Jeff had learned, how will he plan his attack to get Gameplay back, and what is the history behind Opp when he said that what he has - from the past to present - is all pretense?

Stay tuned for release of the next chapter - The Tale of an Alter - soon.

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