Ch 2

"Mark, stop it now," Kris tried to calm the little boy.

When he patted his head, the little boy began to wail louder. Tears ran down his cheeks endlessly.

"Brother..." Mark cried on.

"C'mon Marky," Kris sighed. "Look, I am alright now," he said, pulling the ten year old into a light embrace. Behind Mark stood their sister, Lucy Yang, fidgeting her fingers and trying her best not to involve in a conversation.

Ever since Kris had come to his senses after the accident, which was a week ago, he had seen her stand there, confused, distant and probably frightened to some extent.

She must be, Kris thought to himself. She was only a fourteen year old girl trying to manage an often stubborn little brother, while watching the older one battling between life and death at a hospital. It must have been overwhelming.

"Do you need something to drink?" Lucy asked Kris.

"Nah, I am good. Did you two eat?"

She nodded feebly. Her eyes ran round and round across the room before landing on his injured left leg, covered with a cast of plaster. Kris saw a weary emotion cross her features.

"You should rest then. We'll leave now," she muttered.

"I am not going with you, Luce," Mark snivelled. Then to Kris. "I am not leaving. You fell ill because we weren't around... the nurse told so."

Lucy grabbed Mark by shoulder. "He cannot rest if we stay here. You are only making him tired."

Mark yanked his arm out of her hold. "I said don't want to leave."

"Don't be stupid, Mark."

"Let him stay," Kris intervened.

For the most part, Lucy appeared to be unbothered about their situation. He didn't know if she had always been so nonchalant. The seizures had erased every bit of memory from his past.

However, all he wanted was her to be a a little considerate, and a little more kind. She could at least care to ask him how he was doing.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts.

A man in a suit and sunglasses, Bobby Chen, his manger, greeted him with a small smile.

As if she was waiting for the opportunity, Lucy pulled Mark with her and bolted out of room the next instant.

"Very well," muttered Bobby, grabbing a chair. He wrinkled his nose at the heavy smell of antiseptic that Kris's nose had gotten used to by then. "How are you holding up?"

Kris sighed. "Better, I guess."

Bobby Chen smirked. "That doesn't sound like a person who had just received a rather expensive diagnosis for a rare illness. You don't seem delighted at all for having being treated."

"I would be delighted if I weren't stuck in this bed in the first place."

"Looks like amnesia doesn't work on insolence."

Kris bit his lips. He better watch what he spoke to the only person he could rely on to make his situation better. "Thank you, for providing the... the drug."

"It wasn't me. The guild paid for it."

The guild had also paid for the hospital expenses, living and school expenses of Lucy and Mark for the past year. It was too much of a monetary burden. Kris shifted on the bed.

"I have come here to hear your final decision, Mr Yang."

There you go. He had not yet recovered fully and they were already asking for a refund.

Kris stared at his injured leg.

"You see that, Mr Chen, it would take--"

"Yeah, that," Bobby cut him off. He then called his secretary who was waiting outside, another well-groomed bloke clad in a tailored suit. The secretary handed over a walking cane to Bobby.

"Cushioned Ferrule, lightweight, designed for special performance situations, made of highly durable aluminium--with care."

"Pricey again, I suppose. Is it included in the sponsor list too?"

"Of course not. You can only have it if you decide to continue the game."

"I don't understand why you insist on me continuing the game, Mr Chen. Even if I join, in the condition that I am in, it will only be a waste--"

"As you know, Infringe is a brand new association. For players who can give a promising performance, we already have Bang Cha and Andre. You are just a filler we cannot afford to replace at this point in time."

Certainely, the guild had supposedly poured too much time and resource on his training, for about seven months. Yet, now all that hard work was in vain. His injury and memory-loss had cost them big time. Not that it seemed like he was a great player anyway. So far, from their conversations, he had come to believe that he was just modest, but nonetheless an adequate entrant for a newly formed guild.

"The guild must have all seven entrants on the arena to keep up with the image," Bobby Chen added curtly. "And if you have forgotten... let me remind you that it was you who chose to participate by hiding a rare health condition. You cannot turn away now."

He then tossed a palm-sized catalogue onto Kris' bed. The game catalogue.

Survivance #9

Kris fiddled with the pages as he deliberated.

"There is another reason," Bobby continued. "The guild personally feels that you could recover the injury on the ankle inside the game. You see, players get physical buffs as they climb higher levels. So it isn't a total waste of resource."

That is, if he'd ever make it to the higher level.

"What happens once I come out of the game?"

"You'll be back to having a broken ankle. But guess what, you'd then have enough money to get it treated."

He sure was in a fix. He was unable to understand how he was going to manage the game while dealing with such an injury. The last thing he wanted to do was to suffer a permanent bone dislocation.

He could no longer support his siblings if something worse happened in the game.

For all he knew, it would only put him in more dire situation.

He'd be better off doing some clerical work.

"I can pay back in instalments..." Kris mumbled in a meek voice.

The manager gritted his jaws. "And how exactly are you going to do that? Working odd jobs won't help you, even if you were to toil for the next whole decade, you won't be able to repay the investment... and take care of two siblings along the way." Bobby looked at him daringly. "Do you even remember your educational qualification?"

Damnit!

Kris kneaded the bridge of his nose as the realisation hit him. Who was he kidding. He hadn't been able to remember his own name. How was he to remember other things.

Clerical job debunked.

"Didn't think so," Bobby Chen rose to his feet. "As for labour jobs, I don't think they'd accept you with or without this cane." He handed him the cane. "The best-case scenario in front of you is to join the games and attract good amount of sponsors to pay back all that debt. I hope you make the right choice, Mr Yang. One that can benefit all of us."