Chapter 5: The Fool's Gambit

Chapter 5: The Fool's Gambit

Elara’s breath hitched. Her mouse hovered over the link, a gateway to the chaos she had unleashed. For a moment, she was back in that dusty library alcove, the cold plastic of the payphone receiver pressed to her ear, a single pound coin representing the entirety of her hope for justice. Now, months later, the echo of that small transaction had become a roar. She clicked.

The forum thread was a digital car crash in slow motion. Julian’s post, under his arrogant handle ‘Croftinator96’, was a masterpiece of panicked self-pity.

‘WTF guys, I’m in serious trouble. Got a letter from the court today, a County Court Claim Form from some vulture debt company called Apex Collections. They say I owe them over £800 for an old credit card I haven’t used in YEARS. The crazy thing is, they’re saying I acknowledged the debt because a £1 payment was made a few months ago. A POUND. I never paid them a quid! It’s a total scam. They’ve obviously faked it to try and screw me over before the debt expired. What do I do? Has anyone seen this before? The court date is in 3 weeks. This is going to mess with my streaming schedule.’

The sheer, unadulterated Julian-ness of it was staggering. The victim complex, the absolute refusal to accept responsibility, the casual mention of his streaming schedule in the face of legal action. He hadn't changed at all. He was still the same lazy, entitled boy who believed the world owed him a consequence-free existence.

The replies started to trickle in, a mix of sympathy and terrible advice from his online sycophants. ‘Dude, that sucks,’ one wrote. ‘Fight the power!’ said another.

As she scrolled, her phone buzzed on the desk beside her, the screen lighting up with a name she never thought she’d see again.

Julian.

A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through her. Her first instinct, a ghost of a habit from a past life, was to answer, to soothe, to solve. He was in trouble, and for two years, she had been his designated problem-solver. Her fingers even moved towards the green icon.

Then she remembered the empty bank account. The photo of the new graphics card. The casual cruelty in his eyes as he’d packed his bags. The cold resolve settled back over her like a shroud. This was not her problem to solve. She was the one who had created it.

She let it ring. Once, twice, three times. It stopped, then immediately started again, more insistent this time. He was panicking. Good. She silenced the call, her thumb pressing the button with a steady, deliberate finality. A moment later, a voicemail notification popped up. She ignored it.

Her focus returned to the screen, to the digital amphitheatre where his fate was being decided by a jury of his equally clueless peers. She refreshed the page. A few more sensible voices had chimed in.

LegalEagle7 posted: ‘Croftinator, DO NOT ignore this. A court summons is serious. You need to respond to the form and probably get some free advice from Citizens Advice Bureau. Ignoring it is the worst thing you can do.’

Sensible_Sam agreed: ‘Yeah, what LE7 said. If you don't show or respond, they'll get a judgment against you by default.’

Elara felt a flicker of something—not disappointment, but a clinical curiosity. Would his survival instinct finally kick in? Would he listen to the rare voices of reason in his echo chamber?

And then it appeared. A post from a user named Rogue_AI_42. The advice was delivered with the unearned confidence of a true internet expert.

‘Don’t listen to these guys, Croftinator. They’re bootlickers. I had this happen to a mate of mine. It’s a classic scare tactic. These debt companies buy the debt for pennies, then send out a load of court forms hoping people panic and pay. The £1 thing is just a loophole they’re trying to use. It won’t stand up. The trick is to call their bluff. Don’t respond. Don’t show up for court. It costs them money to send a lawyer, and for a piddly £800, they won’t bother. If you’re not there, the case gets thrown out. Trust me. It’s a numbers game for them, and they’re counting on you to fold.’

Elara’s blood ran cold. The advice was so catastrophically, monumentally wrong it was almost beautiful in its destructive potential. Ignoring a court claim didn't get it thrown out; it guaranteed an automatic loss. It meant a County Court Judgement—a CCJ—would be issued against him by default. A financial black mark that would follow him for six years, making it impossible to get a phone contract, a credit card, a loan, even a tenancy agreement in some cases. It was a legal and financial catastrophe.

She watched, mesmerised, as Julian’s response appeared moments later. He had a choice between two paths: the difficult, responsible one advised by LegalEagle7, or the easy, effortless one offered by Rogue_AI_42. For a man whose entire life was a monument to the path of least resistance, it was never really a choice at all.

‘@Rogue_AI_42 – MATE, thank you! I knew it was a scam. That makes total sense. They are just trying to scare me. All you other guys telling me to get lawyers, you don’t get it. This is how the system screws you. I’m not playing their game. I’m not even going to waste a stamp replying. Let them send their lawyer to an empty room. Absolute legends on this forum, honestly.’

He had swallowed the poison without a moment's hesitation. He wasn’t just walking into the trap; he was sprinting towards it with a grin on his face, convinced he had outsmarted everyone. He believed he’d found a cheat code, a glitch in the system that would let him win by doing nothing. The same terminal laziness and unshakeable arrogance that had led him to steal from her were now leading him to his own ruin.

A grim, chilling sense of finality washed over Elara. Her plan had been to reset the clock on his debts, to ensure he couldn't just walk away from his responsibilities. She had envisioned him facing angry letters, threatening phone calls, maybe a poor credit score that would inconvenience his cushy life.

This was so much worse.

She hadn't orchestrated this. She had simply nudged the first domino. Julian, with his profound ignorance and unwavering faith in the bad advice of a faceless stranger on a gaming forum, was gleefully toppling the rest himself. He was marching toward a punishment far greater, far more absolute, than she had ever intended.

She closed the laptop, the low hum of the fan fading into the silence of her room. The frantic blinking of the voicemail notification on her phone seemed like a distant signal from a world she no longer inhabited. She felt no pity. No remorse. Only the quiet, terrifying calm of watching a force of nature—in this case, human stupidity—run its inevitable course. She had set the snare, but Julian was the one pulling it tight around his own neck.