Desperate Measures

The hospital room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the pale sheets where his mother lay. Fin stood by her bedside, his fingers curled tightly around the metal bedframe.

"I have to go for now, Mom," he said softly, his voice thick with hesitation. "But I'll be back soon. I promise."

His mother gave him a tired smile, her fingers weakly squeezing his hand. "You always keep your promises, Fin. Take care of yourself, okay?"

He forced a smile in return, though his chest felt tight. "I will. Just rest, Mom."

As he stepped out of the room, he spotted a nurse adjusting an IV drip at the station down the hall. He approached her quickly. "Excuse me, can you keep an eye on my mom? I have to leave for work, but I'll check in as soon as I can."

The nurse nodded reassuringly. "Of course. She's stable for now, but she needs to rest. We'll take good care of her."

Fin exhaled slowly. It wasn't much of a relief, but it was something.

Back at the Office

Fin stepped into the office, the familiar hum of keyboards and quiet chatter washing over him. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and the cold artificial glow of fluorescent lights seemed harsher than usual.

His steps were heavier than before, burdened by the weight of reality. He walked straight to the HR department. His hands felt clammy as he signed the necessary papers, taking out a loan just large enough to cover the existing hospital bills. The process wasn't instant—the HR officer took her time reviewing his request, flipping through documents, occasionally glancing at him with a mix of sympathy and formality. The minutes dragged. With every second that passed, his heart pounded harder. What if they denied it? What if it wasn't enough?

Finally, she pushed the papers toward him. "You're approved, but the amount will be disbursed in three days."

Three days. He didn't have three days.

As he stepped out of the HR office, he heard a familiar voice.

"Boss?"

Fin turned to see Ren standing by his desk, arms crossed, eyes scanning him carefully.

"You're back," Ren noted. "You okay?"

Fin nodded, exhaling slowly. "Yeah. Just a family emergency. But everything's fine now."

It wasn't a complete lie. His mother was stable—for now.

Ren studied him for a moment longer before sighing. "Well, if you need anything—"

"Actually..." Fin hesitated, his heart pounding.

His mind screamed at him to stop. To handle things on his own. To not drag Ren or anyone else into this mess. But desperation gnawed at him, clawing its way past his pride.

"Do you..." he started, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. "Do you know anyone who could lend me money?"

The question lingered in the air between them, thick with unspoken weight.

Ren exhaled, shaking his head. "Sorry, Fin. I can't help you with this."

Fin blinked. He hadn't expected a flat-out no.

Ren's Internal Flashback

Back in Ram Online, during his early Assassin days, Ren—known as Crowd, the number one Assassin—had been part of an elite raiding party. The mission had taken almost 24 grueling hours, pushing every member to their limits. Only a handful had survived the final encounter.

And then, they saw it—the treasure chest of a lifetime. Inside lay artifacts and weapons that had never been seen before, their stats so absurdly powerful that they felt almost unreal. Among them, a single dagger that could change the game forever. The kind of item that could be sold for real-world money—enough to buy a car.

Ren, exhausted but triumphant, reached out to claim his share. But before he could, a notification flashed before his eyes—You have been removed from the party.

He froze. The warm glow of the treasure vanished as the system cut his connection to the instance. Then, the chat flooded with messages:

"Sorry, Crowd."

"Less members, less competition."

"Hope you understand."

But Ren wasn't alone.

A shadow moved beside him—Kaela. A beastman warrior with an alluring presence, sharp feline eyes, and long silver hair that trailed down her back. Her body was slender yet powerful, clad in dark armor that hugged her curves while allowing her unmatched agility. Her large, clawed gauntlets shimmered with an eerie glow, pulsing with energy. She was fast, a vanguard built for battle, and the only one who had warned him beforehand.

"They're going to betray you, Crowd," she had whispered before the raid. "I overheard their whispers. I don't like backstabbers."

She had stayed. And now, they were surrounded.

Kaela moved first.

With a feral growl, she dashed into the fray, her speed a blur. Fireballs and lightning strikes slammed into her, but she twisted mid-air, narrowly avoiding the worst of the attacks. Her gauntlets flashed in the dim cavern light as she carved through a mage's staff, sending splinters flying. She weaved through enemy attacks like a ghost, her claws slicing through armor like butter, leaving behind shimmering trails of energy as they retracted and extended seamlessly.

Ren lunged into the chaos, his blades flashing. He was precise, surgical, dismantling their formation from the inside. He struck down a rogue mid-backflip, spun, and slit the throat of a cleric trying to heal. Their numbers dwindled. Desperation flickered in their eyes.

Kaela roared, her claws rending through their leader's chest, pinning him to the cavern wall. "Sorry, boss," she hissed mockingly before finishing him off.

Only one remained—Vaelin, the archer, trembling as he stepped back.

"Crowd... please," he stammered. "They made me do it... I didn't loot your main items."

But to Ren, this wasn't about the items anymore.

It was personal.

Kaela wiped blood from her lips, standing beside him as they looted their fallen betrayers. "Told you," she said with a smirk, her tail flicking behind her. "Backstabbers always get what they deserve."

Ren clenched the legendary dagger they had tried to steal from him. The love of money is the root of all evil.

Kaela nudged him playfully. "You owe me one, Crowd. A fancy coffee. No cheap vending machine stuff."

Ren chuckled, shaking his head. "Fine, fine."

She winked. "Don't forget."

Fin's Reaction

Fin forced a smile, pretending it was fine—but inside, something cracked.

A Desperate Thought

As he rode the train home, his eyes flicked toward the graffiti on the walls near the station exit—numbers scrawled in black ink, barely noticeable unless you were looking for them.

A name. A phone number.

A loan shark.

His fingers hovered over his phone. One call. That's all it would take.

But then he remembered Ren's expression when he refused. The firmness in his voice.

He remembered the tired smile of his mom as he left the hospital.

Fin clenched his jaw, lowering his phone. Not yet.

Tonight, he resisted. But for how long?