Miserable condition

In the silence, Arthur's thoughts grew heavy. The world was cold, cruel, and unforgiving, but he would endure it—for her.

If surviving meant bending the world's rules if it meant fighting back against everything it threw at him, then so be it.

He would take on any challenge, and face any mission, as long as Charlotte stayed safe.

He stood up, glancing around their small basement. The world outside had taken everything from him, but here, with her, was the one thing that mattered.

Arthur sighed softly, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders as he nestled into the uncomfortable chair beside Charlotte's bed.

He leaned back, trying to stretch out his tired limbs, but the exhaustion quickly overtook him. His eyes fluttered closed, and before he realized it, he drifted into sleep.

Dawn crept over the horizon, its soft light filtering through the small window in the basement.

Arthur stirred, blinking away the remnants of sleep. His neck throbbed painfully from the awkward position he'd slept in.

Stretching, he groaned quietly, wincing as the stiffness in his muscles reminded him of the night before.

He yawned, but quickly covered his mouth with his hand, not wanting his stale breath to disturb the stillness of the room—or Charlotte, who still slept soundly nearby.

It was a habit now, waking up before the sun rose. The early deliveries demanded it, and his body had long since adjusted to the rhythm of his thankless routine.

The pain in his neck persisted, a dull ache that gnawed at him, but Arthur forced himself to push through it. He had no time for discomfort. Not when every day was a battle for survival.

His eyes shifted to Charlotte, her frail form resting beneath the thin blankets. Even in her sickness, she looked peaceful, almost regal. 

the uneven rise and fall of her chest was the only indication of the struggle her body endured daily.

Arthur's heart clenched at the sight, a mix of sorrow and determination swirling within him.

"If only it had been me and not you, Charlotte..." Arthur thought bitterly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze locked on his sick sister. "You wouldn't have to suffer like this. You deserve better."

He knew she tried to hide it. The brave face she put on when they talked, the way she smiled through the pain, never wanting to burden him more than he already was.

But Arthur wasn't blind to it. He knew she was suffering just as much as he was—if not more.

Her brave face broke yesterday showing her inner turmoil, which proved him correct.

His long hours of work, the freezing cold he endured every day, the exhaustion that weighed him down—it all paled in comparison to what she had to endure.

"You're stuck in this room," he whispered softly to himself, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow lessen the weight they carried. "You can't even go to the toilet alone, and your mind—always overthinking, always worrying. This silence, this... imprisonment."

Arthur swallowed hard, pushing down the emotions that threatened to rise. He had to be strong, for her sake.

He had to endure. He had to find a way out of this life.

"I'll change all of this soon," he muttered, his voice thick with resolve. A fierce determination sparked in his eyes. "We won't live like this forever."

He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The memories of the missions, the risks he'd taken, the pain he'd endured—it all fueled the fire inside him.

The World Travel System had given him a chance to escape this pit of misery.

Even though the missions were dangerous, even though the cost was high, Arthur knew it was his only shot at securing a future for them both.

"Soon, Charlotte," he promised silently. "Soon, we'll be free from this misery."

Just as the thought crossed his mind, his phone buzzed in his pocket, its soft vibration breaking the silence of the room. Arthur's heart quickened. He knew what it meant before he even reached for it.

The system had given him another mission.

He pulled the phone out and stared at the screen, his pulse steadying as the familiar text appeared before him:

> New Mission Available.

> Mission Tier: 1 (Low-risk world, minimal combat)

> Mission Objective: Infiltrate the events surrounding the assassination of Abraham Lincoln and retrieve key documents from Ford's Theatre, Washington D.C., April 14th, 1865.

> Mission Reward: $3,500, Enhanced Stealth Skill (Rank F+ → Rank E-)

Time Limit: 10 hours.

> Accept Mission? Y/N

Arthur's breath caught in his throat.

"Abraham Lincoln?" He hadn't expected that.

His last mission had plunged him into World War II's infamous Operation Valkyrie, and now the system was sending him even further back in history, to one of the most pivotal moments in American history—the assassination of the 16th President.

His heart raced as he reread the details. Infiltrating the chaos surrounding Lincoln's assassination meant navigating a historic event filled with danger.

But the reward—$3,500 and a boost to his stealth skills—was too good to pass up. That money could buy Charlotte's medicine for months, and improve their living conditions. The thought of her healing, of her no longer being bedridden, filled Arthur with a fierce sense of purpose.

"This is what I needed," he thought, his mind weighing the pros and cons. He knew how dangerous these missions were. There was no guarantee he'd make it out unscathed—or at all.

But he'd come back from worse, and he'd do it again if it meant giving his sister the life she deserved.

Arthur stared at the glowing Y on the screen, the mission details flashing in his mind. Infiltrating Ford's Theatre, retrieving critical documents tied to Abraham Lincoln's assassination—it sounded like a straightforward mission, but he knew better now.

The last time he had rushed in, he had been careless leaving his alarm on, and it had nearly cost him his life. He had taken a bullet, barely escaped, and found himself paying the price in more ways than one.

"I won't make the same mistake again," he thought, his gaze hardening.

Before tapping Y, he knew he had to prepare. He wasn't going to dive headfirst into another mission without having a plan, and without the tools he needed to survive.

"Not this time." he thought, as he put his phone on do not disturb, whilst also removing his alarms.

Arthur slipped his phone into his pocket and quietly left the basement, closing the door behind him as he ventured out into the cold streets.

The sun had risen, and the city was waking up. The cold bit at his skin, but Arthur hardly noticed. His mind was focused on one thing—preparation.