"Reality?" Arthur scoffed silently. "Let it change. I'll bend it to my will if I have to."
The doors slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a woman standing in the doorway.
She had golden locks of hair that cascaded down her shoulders and a face that, by most standards, could be considered beautiful.
But Arthur didn't care much for that. His eyes flicked to her briefly, cold and indifferent.
The woman, dressed in a white doctor's coat, offered him a polite smile. "I'm glad you're awake, Arthur," she said softly.
"Someone found you unconscious on the street and called us. We came and picked you up in the ambulance. You've been out for about an hour."
It seems like after completing the mission, he was transported back to this world, and someone found him on the floor unconscious.
"How are you feeling now?" the doctor asked, her tone gentle, concerned.
Arthur's face remained expressionless. "I'm fine," he replied curtly. "I want to leave now."
The doctor hesitated, her golden brows knitting together slightly. "We'll need to do some checks first, just to make sure everything's in order," she said. "After that, we can discharge you and send you home."
Arthur looked her dead in the eyes, his gaze cold and unflinching. "For free?"
The doctor's polite smile faltered. "No, unfortunately not for free."
"Unfortunately? More like fortunately," Arthur scoffed inwardly.
There it was, that thin veneer of sympathy masking the greed that ruled this world.
"Of course, it's never for free."
"Then no thanks," Arthur said, his tone dripping with disdain.
"I don't need any of your checks. I'm guessing there's already a payment for my stay here, right?" He already knew the answer.
The world didn't function on goodwill, and he'd learned that lesson long ago.
The doctor nodded as if the question was routine. "Indeed. You'll need to pay $1,500 for your stay."
Arthur's expression shifted, the slightest flicker of surprise flashing across his face.
"For what?" Arthur asked, his voice now filled with incredulity. "For letting me sleep in your bed for an hour?"
The doctor shook her head patiently as if she had explained this a thousand times before.
"We're a private hospital, one of the best in the area. The ambulance we sent to pick you up is part of the fee, and we've already run several tests while you were unconscious. That's where the total comes from."
Arthur's jaw clenched. He could barely contain the anger simmering inside him.
"A private hospital. Of course, it couldn't be a public one that I was sent to."
Whoever had called the ambulance didn't do him any favours—they'd made sure to saddle him with a massive bill for no good reason.
"What kind of bastard calls a private hospital for an unconscious stranger on the street?" It wasn't a good Samaritan who called, that much was clear.
It was probably someone who didn't want to deal with him and dumped the responsibility on a hospital that would milk him dry.
Arthur's mind raced, the fury bubbling up inside him. He had risked his life, nearly died, for $2,000 on that mission, and now he had to turn around and hand over most of it to these vultures.
The entire system was a joke—whether it was this world or the worlds the system sent him to. Nothing was ever fair.
"I almost died for that money," Arthur thought bitterly. "Now they want to take it from me for letting me lie in a bed?"
But he already knew the money was in his bank account from the system rewards. $2,000—it was there, waiting. The fact that it would be drained for something so pointless made his blood boil, but he wasn't about to argue. The sooner he paid, the sooner he could leave.
"Fine," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "I'll pay. Let's just get this over with. I've got things to do."
The doctor, oblivious to the storm of anger brewing in Arthur's chest, nodded politely.
"Of course. You can go to the main reception, and they'll take care of the payment there."
Arthur didn't respond. He stood up from the bed, his movements stiff but controlled. The brief burst of pain from the gunshot wound was gone, but the memory of it was fresh in his mind, mixing with the frustration he felt toward the world.
The doctor stepped aside as Arthur strode out of the room. The sliding doors whispered shut behind him, the sterile hospital corridor stretching out ahead. His footsteps echoed in the silence as he made his way toward the reception desk, his mind churning with hatred.
As he approached the reception area, the bright fluorescent lights seemed to sting his eyes. The woman at the desk glanced up, offering a too-cheerful smile. "How can I help you today?"
Arthur's eyes narrowed as he approached the desk, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. "I'm here to pay," he muttered, the words tasting bitter in his mouth.
"Of course," the receptionist chirped. "What's your name and room number?"
"Arthur," he said flatly. "Room 207."
The receptionist nodded, typing something into her computer. A few moments later, she glanced up, her fingers poised over the keyboard. "That'll be $1,500 for your stay," she said sweetly, as though she were announcing some wonderful news.
Arthur's hand tightened around the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white. He said nothing as he handed over his card. The receptionist swiped it, and the beep of the machine confirmed the transaction.
"Just like that," Arthur thought darkly, "most of my reward is gone."
"Thank you! You're all set," the receptionist said, handing him back his card with that same cheerful smile. "Feel better soon!"
Arthur's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to nod before turning away. He walked out of the hospital, each step punctuated by the growing bitterness in his chest.