Life Drainer (2)

Arthur followed, his eyes scanning the dim interior of the house. The air was heavy, stale, as if it had been trapped inside for far too long.

The house was eerily quiet, and Arthur could feel the sadness hanging in the air like a physical presence.

Inside, the space was small and cluttered. Old furniture, much like the house itself, seemed to be barely holding together.

In the corner of the room, a thin figure lay on a worn-out mattress, covered by a threadbare blanket.

The figure barely stirred as they entered, but Arthur could make out the shallow rise and fall of her chest—Oliver's daughter.

"She's been like this for months," Oliver said quietly, wheeling himself closer to the bed. "The medicine keeps her alive, but barely. Every day, she gets weaker. I don't know how much longer we have."

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to the bed. The woman lying there looked eerily like Charlotte—pale, fragile, her face gaunt from the illness that was slowly draining her life away.

The sight struck him hard, but he didn't let it show. He'd seen this before. He lived with it every day.

"Her name's Marie," Oliver said, his voice cracking. "She used to be so full of life. She had dreams, you know? Wanted to be a teacher. But now..." He trailed off, his eyes filled with pain and helplessness.

Arthur didn't respond immediately. He wasn't sure what to say. He stood there for a moment, staring at the woman, his mind racing.

"Life Drainer."

The same disease that had cursed Charlotte had done the same to Marie, another innocent trapped in the grip of something no one could understand. And for what?

There was no cure, no hope—just the slow, inevitable decline.

Without a word, Arthur reached into his jacket and pulled out the vial of medicine he had just bought.

He placed them on the small table beside Marie's bed, the glass clinking softly against the wood.

"Here," Arthur said, his voice flat. "This'll give her another week."

Oliver looked at the medicine, then up at Arthur, his eyes glistening with tears.

"I can't thank you enough," the old man whispered, his voice trembling. "Thank you. You've given us time. Time we didn't have."

Arthur nodded, but his expression remained cold. He wasn't doing this for gratitude. He didn't even know why he was doing it.

Maybe it was because he saw a reflection of his own life in Oliver and Marie.

Maybe it was because part of him wanted to believe that he wasn't alone in this cruel world. Or maybe it was because he knew how it felt to have time running out, with no one left to help.

"Don't thank me yet," Arthur said, his tone sharp. "This is just another week. The medicine isn't a cure, it's just buying time."

Oliver nodded, his voice hoarse. "I know. But time... time is all we can ask for right now."

Arthur turned away, heading toward the door without another word.

He couldn't afford to get emotionally involved, not when Charlotte was still waiting for him at home, relying on him to survive.

"This was a reminder," he thought. A reminder that Charlotte wasn't the only one suffering from this disease.

The world was filled with people like Marie and Charlotte—slowly slipping away, their lives draining bit by bit.

As Arthur reached the door, he paused and looked back at Oliver, who sat beside his daughter, his face etched with sorrow but also with hope, however faint it might be.

"Take care of her," Arthur said, his voice quiet but firm.

Oliver nodded, tears silently streaming down his face.

Arthur stepped outside, the door creaking shut behind him. The cold night air bit at his skin as he walked away from the house, his thoughts swirling with anger and sadness.

"This world..." He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on him.

"How many more are there?"

How many more people were suffering in silence, hidden away in forgotten corners of the world, while life went on as if nothing was wrong?

"It's a cruel joke," he thought bitterly. The doctors couldn't even explain what Life Drainer was, let alone find a cure.

They only knew how to slow it down—prolong the suffering for a little while longer.

He walked through the dark streets, his mind heavy with the realization that no matter how hard he fought, no matter how many missions he completed, this disease would always be there—gnawing at the lives of those he cared about.

The world had broken people like Oliver and Marie, just like it had broken him and Charlotte. And there was no one coming to save them.

Arthur shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking, his resolve hardening with every step. He wouldn't let Charlotte suffer the same fate.

He'd do whatever it took—complete as many missions as the system demanded, fight as hard as he had to.

Because time, as fragile and fleeting as it was, was the only thing that mattered now.