Arin Solis remained still for a long moment, his breathing gradually stabilizing. The sharp tension from earlier had faded, but the weakness in his body remained. It wasn't something that would disappear with rest. It felt deeper, as if this body had always been like this.
Slowly, he pushed himself up.
The moment he did, his arms trembled under his weight. A dull strain spread through his muscles, forcing him to pause halfway. Even sitting up felt like a struggle. He took a slow breath, steadying himself before finally managing to sit at the edge of the bed.
"…Too weak."
His voice was calm, almost emotionless.
He stayed there for a few seconds, allowing his body to adjust. Then, with careful movement, he stood up. His vision swayed slightly, the room spinning for a brief moment before settling again. He didn't rush. He simply waited until the dizziness passed.
Only then did he take a step forward.
Each step felt heavy and unstable, as if his legs could give out at any moment. Still, he continued moving. The room was small and mostly empty. A bed behind him, a simple table to the side, and a storage unit placed in the corner.
Nothing else.
His gaze moved slowly across the space, observing everything in silence. There was no sign of food anywhere. No supplies. No stored items. The emptiness of the room made the situation clear without needing further thought.
He walked toward the storage unit and opened it.
Empty.
He checked again, slower this time, as if expecting something to appear.
Still empty.
"…No food."
The words came out quietly, without surprise.
His body was already at its limit. Without food, it wouldn't last long. He stood there for a moment, thinking, before turning toward another corner of the room.
A small unit was fixed into the wall.
He reached out and pressed it lightly. A faint hum followed, and a thin stream of water began to flow. He watched it for a second before leaning forward and drinking.
The cold liquid ran down his throat, easing the dryness.
But only that.
It didn't touch the hunger. The emptiness in his stomach remained, just as strong as before. He pulled back slowly, his expression unchanged. Water alone wouldn't solve anything. At best, it would only delay the inevitable.
His thoughts shifted.
From memory, something should have been left behind. His parents had worked for years in dangerous zones. Even after their deaths, there should have been compensation. Insurance. Credits.
Something.
"…If it's still there."
That was his only option.
Without money, survival wasn't possible. Food, medicine, even basic necessities—all required credits. His gaze moved toward the table, where a small metallic device rested.
A personal terminal.
The moment he saw it, the memories aligned. Identity, transactions, records—everything was connected to that device. It was the only thing in the room that still held value.
He walked toward it slowly, each step more controlled than before. Reaching out, he picked it up.
The surface lit up faintly.
Recognizing him.
Arin Solis.
The name appeared clearly on the screen.
Below it… a number.
His eyes focused.
"…Credits."
The number appeared clearly on the screen.
12
His expression didn't change.
That… was expected.
Barely enough for a single day.
Maybe two, if used carefully.
Nothing surprising.
Nothing reassuring either.
He was already at the edge.
This only confirmed it.
His gaze shifted slightly.
Another line appeared below.
Different.
Not the same category.
"…Stellar Credits."
He paused.
The number beneath it slowly came into view.
50,000
For a moment—
his mind went blank.
"…What?"
This time, the reaction came instantly.
His grip tightened around the terminal.
Fifty thousand Stellar Credits.
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't something someone like him should have.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
From the memories…
this value had always been zero.
No access.
No balance.
Nothing.
So why now?
The answer surfaced quickly.
Compensation.
After his parents' deaths, the system had issued it.
Not immediately.
Not when it was needed.
But only after processing… verification… delay.
Too late.
Arin's expression remained still.
Part of it had already been given before.
Standard Credits.
For survival.
That portion—
had long been used.
Spent slowly…
until only 12 remained.
His gaze returned to the second value.
50,000 Stellar Credits.
Different.
Not for daily life.
Not for simple survival.
This was long-term compensation.
Reserved.
Restricted.
A resource meant for growth.
But for the original owner—
it had been useless.
Because he had never reached the level required to use it.
Arin exhaled slowly.
12 Credits.
50,000 Stellar Credits.
One could keep him alive for a day.
The other…
could change his future.
But not yet.
His fingers tightened slightly.
"…So this is how it is."
A faint calm settled in his eyes.
At least now—
he had something.
Even if only a little.
Even if barely enough.
It was still—
a chance.