"Sorry, you're not quite what we need."
"I see, thank you for your time!"
How many times had he gone through that exact process? Why was it always the same? It always proceeds so smoothly, but once they see his resume it's almost like they were repulsed. So he always changed it. Fine tuning it, seeing if there was something he was missing.
But nothing.
A whole day had passed, he even went to the outskirts of cities to see if some lone business owner was looking for an extra hand. Yet nothing, there wasn't a single person who would hire him.
Why? Had he done something? No matter what he always avoided anything illegal. He had no criminal record to speak of. Although he was lacking in experience, he did plenty of odd jobs to survive. That should be enough to prove his willingness to learn and work. So why was he always turned down?
Eron collapsed onto his bed. Lying there he closed his eyes. Exhaustion prominent in his bones he almost fell asleep. With a groan he forced himself up and drove away the drowsiness. After all he was supposed to visit his mother today.
. . .
Arriving at the hospital he quickly went through the check in process. He had visited many times before to the point that the staff knew who he was. The process was a smooth and painless one. He wished that applied to the job finding process as well.
Entering a room he spotted his mother, lying perfectly still, air pumping into her lungs via machine. A strange liquid was being inserted into her body via tubes. A machine lie underneath the bed, a screen showing a variety of data that Eron did not know was on its side.
There was a chair in the corner, Eron dragged it closer to the bed and sat down. With a tired sigh he simply sat there holding his mother's hand. After a few minutes he began to tell her of what had happened recently. Speaking enthusiastically as if it was merely some fairy tale. Once he finished he leaned back into the chair, exhaustion gripping at him tightly, "I'll manage somehow though. I have for the past four years! Don't worry though, I won't do anything illegal."
Thud-thud-thud.
Eron looked towards the door and watched as it opened. A doctor came in and looked at Eron with a sad look, "Mr. Yun?"
"Is there something wrong?"
"Yes I'm afraid so, but it has nothing to do with your mother's current condition."
A bit of relief entered Eron's body but he remained on edge, "What's happening?"
"Please follow me to my office, I'll explain things there."
Giving his mother's hand a quick squeeze he stood up and followed the Doctor. As he walked through the painfully white hallways he couldn't help but notice a strange quiet. The only thing he could hear was the sound of his breathing, and the footsteps they made.
Stopping in front of a door the doctor opened it and gestured him inside, "Please take a seat, I'll be with you in just a minute."
Nodding Eron sat in an arguably much comfier chair. The Doctor's office was quite plain. A PC sat on a desk, no doubt for their personal use, and a few closed folders sat stacked on the side. A simple office chair was turned towards the opening side of the desk. Perhaps a sign of it being in use.
A small plaque was placed at the corner on the desk. It read 'Doctor Bernad Oswith'. Although Eron was familiar with the name. Dr. Oswith was the one who oversaw his mother. It was someone Eron was only faintly acquainted with. They only conversed if Eron needed to know something. Otherwise they hardly spoke at all.
A small bookshelf was placed against the wall, a small distance away from the desk. With a simple push you could roll over to it in the office chair. The bookshelf's contents were simple, matching the theme of the room. A few books, with titles Eron was unfamiliar with, and a few binders lined up neatly.
What caught Eron's attention most was a small ornament at the very top of the bookshelf. It was one of those drinking bird toys. Every time it bobbed its head into the water Eron heard a small 'plip' sound. Besides his own breathing he could only hear this sound, and it accompanied him as he waited.
Plip~
The door opened and Dr. Oswith entered. Carrying a thin paper folder he placed it onto the desk and sat on the office chair. Drumming his fingers against the desk he spoke, "So Mr. Yun, about this bad news of mine. I recently received a—let's say notification—from your insurance company. It was quite troubling, so I think you should read it yourself. If you have any questions don't be afraid to ask."
Dr. Oswith slid over the thin folder. Picking it up Eron opened it and read the singular sheet of paper that lie inside. As he read a frown formed and deepened on his face, "This is. . . ?"
"In short your company decided it would be cheaper to send your mother to a new institute. One that supposedly specializes in cases like your mother's. Naturally with her being my patient I looked into this institute and could find nothing. Which means it's either a newly formed one, or something else."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"New institutes don't last very long. Usually that is. Unless they receive some sort of funding they quickly go bankrupt. Since I couldn't find anything on it I can only assume it's a new institute with no public funding. Which is also a bad sign."
"So what can I do?"
"Well since your father is unreachable, you are the current 'caretaker' of your mother. Which gives you a few options. You can accept this and your mother will be sent to this institute—your insurance will cover the transport costs—or you can decline and keep her here. Problem with that is your insurance will no longer pay for the health costs which will leave the burden on you."
"There's absolutely nothing about this institute?"
"None, at least nothing a common person can find. As the doctor of Mrs. Yun for the past four years I'm not entirely sure this institute can be trusted. I even reached out the insurance company to provide some extra details, but they refused."
Eron felt his arms tremble, "So they decide to send my mother to some risky place to save a few Digits?"
"I am afraid so. Which is why the choice falls onto your shoulders."
"How. . . how much is the cost to keep her here?"
"It's going to be twelve-thousand Digits monthly. A hefty price I am aware. But I could only make it this small."
Twelve grand?! A month?! He could barely make two-thousand Digits in a month with the OJA! He had to either risk this mysterious institute or somehow get twelve-thousand Digits in monthly income?!
His entire body trembled. There was no break! It was nothing but one bad thing after another! Why?! Why him?!
Eron leaned back in the chair, "I really don't have a choice do I?"
Dr. Oswith remained silent.
"I don't. . ."
"I was able to do one additional thing, but this was the full extent of what I'm capable of. If you choose to keep her here, but are unable to afford it, they will still pay for the transport cost to send her to the new institute. After all they're still responsible for her life."
-<"If that's the case why not become a Mercenary?">-
Eron closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, "I'll make the money for now. If at any point you gain information on this institute could you please send it to me?"
"I will email you if I learn anything. I assume you have decided?"
"Yes, keep her here. I won't risk some unknown institute."
"Alright, I just need you to sign this and I'll take care of the rest."
Eron signed a series of papers. With each stroke he grew more determined.
'So be it! If I have to sell my soul for money, I will!'