Ivan stepped into Charlie's home, taking in his surroundings with a discerning eye. His first impression was that the interior matched the exterior in its unfinished and worn-down appearance. The walls were bare, exposing the rough gray cement beneath. Not even a coat of putty or paint had been applied, giving the room a cold, uninviting look. It felt like a space that had been abandoned mid-construction, left to weather time without care or completion.
The living room doubled as a bedroom. In one corner sat a large bed piled with yellowed sheets and blankets, their once-vivid colors now dulled by time and stains that refused to budge. The furniture was sparse and mismatched; a wooden table and a few rickety chairs that creaked with the slightest movement.
A thin woman, likely in her mid-thirties but aged by hardship, rose hesitantly as Ivan entered. Her posture was stiff, and her hands fidgeted nervously. "Hello… Hello," she stammered. "I'm Charlie's mother, Louise." She glanced toward her son. "Charlie, make a cup of tea for the gentleman."
Her tone was nervous, almost apologetic. Ivan could tell she was trying to make a good impression, though her resources were clearly limited.
Ivan offered a reassuring smile as he pulled out a chair and sat. "Please, no need to be so nervous," he said gently. "I'm here to talk about Charlie, and I want to get straight to the point. Perhaps you've already heard, I'd like to sponsor him for school."
Louise's lips tightened, and a flicker of unease crossed her face. She remained standing, clutching her hands together. "You're very kind, sir," she said after a pause. "I would be glad for Charlie to go to school. It would mean the world for him."
She hesitated, her eyes darting to the floor. "But… I have a request. If you're willing to take him to school, could you… could you also take him with you?"
Ivan blinked, surprised. "Take him with me?" he repeated. The idea was unexpected, and her insistence seemed to hint at something deeper. He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but probing. "That's quite a request. Madam, is there something going on that I should know about?"
At that moment, Charlie re-entered, carrying a chipped porcelain cup of tea. The liquid was dark and murky, with visible tea foam floating on the surface. Ivan accepted it with a polite nod, though he could tell the tea was of poor quality.
Louise avoided his gaze, gripping her own cup tightly. "I'm sorry, sir," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I know it's too much to ask, but… I'm afraid his father wouldn't allow it. He won't agree to Charlie going to school."
Ivan frowned slightly. 'Why wouldn't a father want his son to attend school?' He glanced at Charlie, who stood silently, his eyes fixed on the floor. Turning back to Louise, he pressed gently, "Why wouldn't he agree? Surely he understands what an opportunity this is for Charlie."
Louise's shoulders sagged, and her voice dropped to a near whisper. "Because his father… he's addicted to drugs."
---
Ivan listened in silence as Louise recounted her husband's tragic story. Fred Hank, Charlie's father, had once been a strong and devoted man. He had served as a soldier during the Great War, part of the 41st Infantry Division of the United States Army. Before the war, Fred had been a loving father and a pillar of the family. Even after being deployed to the Western Continent, he sent money and letters home regularly, filled with assurances of his eventual return.
But everything changed in 1918 during the 'Battle of the Main.' Louise's voice grew strained as she described that fateful day.
Fred's company had been ordered to reinforce a position near Rice. The battle began at ten in the morning under a gray, misty sky. The ground was thick with mud, and Fred and his comrades huddled in the trenches as enemy crossfire tore through the air above them.
Barely an hour into the battle, a massive armored vehicle; a fortress of iron, emerged from the enemy lines, rolling over the barbed wire like it was nothing. The soldiers' M1917 machine guns were useless against it, their bullets bouncing off its impenetrable hull like pebbles against stone.
As the iron behemoth advanced, the Maxim machine guns mounted on its sides unleashed a hellish storm of firepower. The trenches became a slaughterhouse. Soldiers who had been shouting orders and firing moments before were turned into lifeless, broken dolls under the relentless barrage. Blood and dirt sprayed into the air like a grim fountain as the machine carved through the ranks of Fred's company.
Fred survived that day, but not without scars, ones that were far deeper than the physical. Louise's voice wavered as she described how the war had changed him. When he returned home, he was no longer the man she had married. The once-loving father was replaced by a haunted, hollow shell who turned to drugs to numb the memories of what he had endured.
---
Ivan sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the weight of Louise's story. It explained so much; why their home was in such disrepair, why Charlie worked as a newspaper boy instead of attending school, and why Louise seemed so anxious and worn.
"Madam," Ivan said gently, "I understand your concern now. I can see why you'd want Charlie to leave this environment. But taking him with me permanently is a big decision. It means committing to his future, and yours."
Louise nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, sir. I know it's asking a lot. But if Charlie stays here, he'll… he'll end up like his father. I can't let that happen."
Ivan looked at Charlie, who was standing stiffly by the wall, his face carefully neutral but his eyes betraying a mixture of hope and fear. Ivan sighed inwardly. He had come here intending to help the boy, but now he realized the stakes were far higher than he'd imagined.
"All right," Ivan said at last. "Let's take it one step at a time. I'll sponsor Charlie's education, and we'll see how things progress. But, Madam, you need to understand that this is as much an opportunity for Charlie as it is for your family to start over."
Louise nodded fervently, and Charlie's expression shifted to cautious optimism. Ivan set down the cup of tea and stood. He hadn't just offered Charlie a chance at a better future, he had also stepped into a family's desperate struggle for survival.
Fred lost his left arm in that fateful battle. Surviving should have been a blessing, but it came with a cruel price. His doctor, in an attempt to manage his pain, prescribed him heavy doses of morphine; a medicine that dulled his agony but chained him to an even greater torment.
When the war ended, Fred was discharged and sent back to civilian life. But his dependency on morphine didn't end with his service. The cravings followed him home, a shadow that clung to him, whispering temptations. At first, he resisted, bolstered by his sense of duty to his family. But the weight of his disability, his inability to find steady work; gradually wore down his resolve.
Unable to escape his need, Fred began secretly buying morphine. At first, it was a reluctant solution, an act of desperation. Then, one day, he read about a new drug called Halene, advertised as a miracle cure for morphine addiction. Desperate for a way out, he decided to give it a try.
For a while, it seemed like the answer he'd been praying for. But six months later, the truth hit him like a hammer. Halene wasn't a cure, it was a trap. Far more potent than morphine, it consumed him completely. By then, it was too late. Halene's hold on him was unrelenting, and even morphine could no longer provide the relief he craved.
To make matters worse, Louise; the family's last financial pillar, lost her job when the arsenal she worked for shut down. With war orders drying up, the factory bled money until it collapsed entirely. A year ago, Louise had been forced to rely on odd jobs and Charlie's meager income as a newspaper boy to keep their family afloat.
"He changed," Louise said, her voice trembling as her eyes grew red. "He used to be a good man, a father who cared about his family. Now, all he thinks about is money and drugs. He doesn't even see us anymore... just what he can take."
She paused, gripping the edge of the table for support, then looked up at Ivan, her eyes brimming with desperation. "Sir, I'm begging you, please take Charlie out of this city. His father… he won't let him go. He'll try to drag him into his world. But Charlie is too young to make it on his own. We have no relatives, no one else who can care for him if he leaves us…"
Her voice cracked, trembling as if the weight of her plea might crush her.
---
Ivan sat quietly, processing her words. His expression remained calm, but inside, something shifted. He thought back to his own path, how far he'd come, and how much he had changed. A question surfaced in his mind, unbidden and sharp:
'When did I stop caring about people?'
He sifted through his memories, searching for the moment when his motivations had shifted from idealism to pragmatism. Was it when he first crossed into this world? When he killed his first wizard? Or when he took the lives of ordinary people who stood in his way?
It wasn't a sudden change but a slow erosion. His past self, someone who believed in helping others when he could; had been buried under layers of justifications. He had told himself it wasn't his responsibility to fix the world. He'd convinced himself that his actions were necessary, that the ends justified the means.
But now, faced with Louise's story and Charlie's hopeful eyes, he felt a pang of guilt. He realized he had been hiding his own choices behind excuses. 'I'm solving a case. It's not my responsibility. I had no other option.' These were the lies he told himself to survive, but deep down, he knew better.
'Why did I let it come to this?'
He didn't need to dig far for the answer. He had tried, once. He had tried to live honestly, to build a life as an ordinary man. When he first arrived in Bridgewick, he had taken the commission to investigate the Kangaroo Thief in good faith, believing it would be a straightforward job. But life had quickly disabused him of those notions.
He was hunted by the Bridgewick Gang. He was discriminated against, denied work, and eventually sold as a commodity by human traffickers. Every attempt to live quietly had been met with cruelty and exploitation.
Ivan clenched his fists under the table, his jaw tightening. 'I tried to be ordinary. I tried to play by their rules. But this country doesn't allow it. This world doesn't allow it. Kindness is weakness, and only profit earns respect.'
If he had taken an ordinary job, he would have been bullied and discarded like so many others. If he had resisted, his identity as a wizard might have been discovered, and he would have been dragged into the mysterious wizard forest to face God knows what fate. If he didn't resist, he would be stuck in poverty forever, scraping by without dignity or hope.
'No,' he thought bitterly. 'It's not my fault. It's theirs. This country. This system. This world.'
The soldiers who had fought and bled for this land weren't even protected. How could outsiders like him expect anything better?
That was why Ivan chose profit. It wasn't about greed; it was survival. In a world that punished kindness and rewarded power, what choice did he have?
---
Ivan finally broke the silence, his voice quiet but firm. "I understand, Louise," he said. "You're not asking for much, you're asking to save your son's future. I'll do what I can."
Her shoulders sagged with relief, and she gave a trembling nod. "Thank you, sir… Thank you."
But Ivan's thoughts remained troubled. He wasn't just helping Charlie for altruistic reasons. He knew this was an investment, one that could help him navigate a corrupt world where connections were currency. Still, he couldn't help but wonder: 'Is this enough to make up for the things I've done?'
As Louise wiped her eyes and Charlie looked at him with cautious hope, Ivan stood. The path he'd chosen wasn't perfect, but it was the only one he had. For now, he would take another step forward, carrying the weight of his choices with him.