Chapter 2: Scars and Decisions
My hands went numb in the cold water, mud squishing between my fingers as I dragged him up out of the creek. The water soaked my jeans, and mosquitoes whined in my ears. I shivered, unsure if it was from the chill or the sight of him. Red welts crossed his back like barbed wire.
The worst scar ran nearly the length of his back, jagged and raw.
Where the so-called 'spirit core' had once been, there was nothing left but an empty hollow under my fingers.
My hands shook as I checked for a pulse, just like a first responder would. I’d seen plenty of men beat up, but this was something else. Something mean.
"System, the spirit core here... where did it go?"
"It was cut out. Marcus was the strongest in the whole damn story. No one could touch him—unless they took away what made him special."
"Besides, it’s better for the later emotional development."
My voice trembled, and I didn’t dare touch him carelessly. "Did it hurt a lot?"
The system sounded bored: "They’re not idiots. How could they have done it if he was awake?"
"They drugged him. He passed out, so he didn’t feel much."
After too many questions, the system snapped: "Why are you asking so much? Just send him over, take your reward, and leave. I’ll log off, go on vacation, and everything will be settled."
He was tall, but when I lifted him, he felt light as a feather.
His white shirt hung loose; his ribs stuck out so sharp it nearly made me cry.
They’re so stingy. Always talking about love and hate, but they can’t even give him a proper meal.
To reduce someone to this...
Maybe it was because my tears kept falling that the system got a little more patient.
"After all, it’s a tragic love story, so some suffering is inevitable at the beginning."
"But don’t worry, the ending of this novel is HE—a Happy Ending."
"Everyone will be happy in the end."
I thought of the book the system mentioned.
In it, the former student who fell in with the wrong crowd used dirty tricks to drag his shining mentor down, step by step.
I flipped through it once back then. It was so nasty I used it as a brick to prop up a wobbly table leg.
Back then, I was huddled under that table in some rundown trailer, sheltering from a hailstorm, wishing I’d never seen the thing. Even as a prop, it seemed to stink of bad luck.
Halfway down the road, the system suddenly realized: "Aren’t you going the wrong way? This isn’t the road to the bad guys."
I tightened my grip on him.
"I won’t hand him over."
"Only a monster would send their benefactor to hell."
"A person with a conscience couldn’t do such a thing."