The moment Mark pushed the door open, the familiar creak echoed through the small apartment.
His little sister was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, hunched over the low coffee table, wearing an old t-shirt, scribbling furiously into her notebook. Pens, calculators and worn textbooks were spread everywhere like a battlefield of education called high school. She looked up instantly. "Hey, you're late!" then she turned to their mom, "Mom, Gorilla is home!"
Mark almost smiled, from the cramped kitchen, his mother peeked out, white hair, tired eyes, and had a wooden spoon in hand. The pot of corn soup simmered gently on the stove, filling the apartment with a comforting, familiar smell. Her brows furrowed the second she saw him.
"Why are you limping?" she asked sharply. "Do you know what time it is? I tried calling you so many times earlier."
"Sorry mom, did you receive my message? Just ignored it, I was just being dramatic." Mark slipped off his shoes, wincing as his swollen ankle protested. He forced a small smile.
"Long day though," he said. "I walked too much."
They were always like this, concern first, questions second. Even when they barely had enough, they still worried about him.
His sister eyed his leg suspiciously. "You walk like a zombie."
"I broke my ankle, Maya! Different!" he admitted casually. Both of them froze.
"You what?" his mother said, panic flashing across her face as she rushed over. "Sit. Sit down right now."
"I'm fine," Mark said quickly, lowering himself onto the old couch. The springs creaked beneath his weight. "Really. It's not that bad."
His mother crouched in front of him, inspecting the swelling with worried hands, clicking her tongue. "You never take care of yourself," she muttered. "Always working. Always rushing."
He let her scold him. It felt… normal. Safe. Then he cleared his throat. "But I have good news."
Both of them looked up.
"I got a bonus from work," Mark said. "Unexpected."
His mother blinked. "A bonus?"
His sister's eyes lit up. "How much?"
"Enough," he said, smiling. His sister hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders drooping. "Really? Thank God. I need to pay my tuition for this semester. If I don't, they won't let me take the exams."
Mark's smile didn't fade. "No worries," he said immediately.
Maya stared at him. "Seriously, is your bonus enough for you to say that?"
"More than enough!" He smirked, and pulled out his phone, fingers moving without hesitation. He opened the banking app, sat back on the couch, and typed calmly.
"Mark," his sister said nervously. "Don't joke, "
Transfer Complete: $5,000
Her phone buzzed. She looked down. Then looked up. Then looked down again. "…What the, " Her voice shook. "That's too much," she whispered. "Where did you even…"
He smirked, "Buy the books you wanted," Mark said gently. "And those new shoes. The ones you keep pretending you don't like."
Her face crumpled. She let out a strangled sound, then launched herself at him, hugging him tightly despite his injured leg. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Gori…" she cried, bouncing on her feet, tears streaming down her face. "I swear I'll study harder!"
Mark laughed, eyes stinging. Then he turned to his mother. He transferred $10,000.
Her phone buzzed too. She stared at the screen in silence. Then she looked at him slowly.
"…Mark," she said carefully. "Are you doing something illegal?"
He laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time in what felt like years. "No, Ma," he said. "I promise. I'm just… lucky."
She studied his face, searching for lies. Then her eyes filled with tears. She pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing her forehead against his. "You've suffered enough," she whispered. "Thank you… my son."
But before the moment could grow too heavy, Ding-dong. They all froze. "What's that?" his sister asked. Mark grinned. "Dinner."
The door opened to bags and bags of food. Fried chicken. Pizza. Pasta. Ice cream. Drinks. More chicken than any reasonable household needed. They gawked at it then followed by chaos. Laughter filled the apartment. Plates were brought out.
The soup was forgotten. They ate until their fingers were greasy and their stomachs hurt. They sang old songs badly. His sister danced in socks. His mother wiped her tears while laughing. For one night. They were not poor. They were not worried. They were just a family, full and happy.
Later, when the lights were off and the apartment finally quiet, Mark lay on the couch, ankle throbbing, heart heavy, but warm. For the first time in a long while…He slept with a full belly. And a reason to wake up.
Several hours later. Mark was deep asleep when the ding cut through the silence. Sharp. Clean. Unmistakable. His eyes snapped open. For a moment, he didn't know where he was, then he remembered.
The couch. The dim light from the kitchen. The faint sound of his mother's steady breathing from the other room. His sister murmuring in her sleep.
The blue screen bloomed into existence above him, casting a soft glow across the ceiling.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION.]
Mark groaned quietly. "You have terrible timing."
But the screen didn't care.
EMOTIONAL SPENDING DETECTED
Mark blinked. "…Excuse me?"
[FUNDS ALLOCATED FOR NON-SELF BENEFIT.]
[PRIMARY MOTIVE: FAMILY WELL-BEING.]
He sat up slowly, careful of his ankle. "That's… a crime now?"
[NO VIOLATION DETECTED.]
He relaxed slightly. Then the next line appeared.
[BONUS EFFECT: RESOLVE STABILIZATION.]
Mark frowned. "What does that mean?"
The screen shifted, text scrolling deliberately.
[HOST EMOTIONAL STATE: PREVIOUSLY UNSTABLE.]
[CURRENT STATE: ANCHORED.]
[CAUSE: POSITIVE OUTCOME FROM PAIN-BASED INCOME.]
Silence filled the room. Mark looked toward the room where his family slept. The memory of the night replayed in his mind, his sister jumping around the room, his mother's tears, the way the apartment felt alive for once. His jaw tightened. "So…" he whispered. "You're saying it worked."
[CONFIRMED.]
Something inside him settled. Not joy. Purpose. He exhaled slowly, deeply, grounding himself. "For years," he murmured, "I suffered for nothing."
The screen pulsed faintly.
"But tonight," he continued, voice steady now, "my pain fed them."
That thought didn't horrify him. It hardened him.
NEW STATUS UNLOCKED
[MENTAL STATE: RESOLUTE]
[PANIC REDUCTION: ACTIVE]
Mark almost laughed. "So trauma really does build character."
The system didn't argue.
He swung his good leg off the couch and stood, testing his balance. Pain flared, but it didn't overwhelm him this time. He breathed through it.
"That accidental injury earlier?" he said quietly. "That was stupid."
[AGREED.]
A corner of his mouth twitched. "But I'm not stupid anymore." He limped to the window, looking out at the sleeping city. Somewhere out there were gyms, construction sites, underground rings, dangerous jobs people avoided because the pay wasn't worth the risk.
Mark's eyes sharpened. "Risk," he said softly, "is relative."
The blue screen responded.
[SUGGESTION AVAILABLE.]
"Oh?" Mark raised an eyebrow. "Now you give advice?"
[CONTROLLED INJURY YIELDS MAXIMUM EFFICIENCY.]
[AVOID RANDOMNESS.]
[AVOID DEATH.]
[SURVIVE.]
Mark nodded slowly. "No streets. No idiots on bikes," he muttered. "No gambling with my life." He glanced down at his injured ankle. "Calculated," he said. "Contained and recoverable." His gaze drifted back toward the hallway. "For them." He clenched his fist, knuckles whitening. "I won't waste pain anymore."