The door was forced open, and Edward strutted inside.
He glanced around the little compartment, his face scrunched in irritation as he stepped farther in.
A low moan caught his ear.
He turned toward the sound and frowned. His face tightened as his fist clenched, gaze fixed on the figure lying a few meters away.
His fingers twitched. The stale air seemed to cling to his skin, and beneath the sour smell of medicine, he caught the faint, metallic scent of sickness.
It'll only take a moment, won't it?
The thought came too easily. That was what unsettled him most.
He took one step, then another, his eyes locked on the ailing woman. She looked so helpless. So vulnerable. Her breathing rasped unevenly, each shallow rise of her chest seeming to measure the distance between need and opportunity.
He knew the urge. He felt it, sharp and familiar, tightening behind his ribs.
But just then—
"Father?"
The voice broke him from his uneasy trance.
Edward turned sharply. Kim stood near the doorway, her demanding gaze fixed on him.
Bastard.
"What's with that look, you brat?"
His voice dripped with venom as he moved away from the ailing woman and crossed to the other side of the room. He kept his hands at his sides, though his fingers still curled and uncurled as if they remembered what he had almost done.
Kim's eyes followed him.
"You said you'd get the money for her treatment today."
Edward stopped.
"Where is it?"
Silence stretched between them. Somewhere near the bed, a pipe clicked as it cooled. The sound made the room feel even smaller.
He slowly turned around. "What money?"
Kim stared at him. "The treatment fees."
"I heard you the first time."
"Then answer me."
Edward scoffed. "You think money grows on trees?"
"No. I think you promised to bring it."
"I said I'd try."
"You said you'd get it."
His expression darkened. "You've got a lot of courage for someone who doesn't earn a damn thing."
Kim's eyes narrowed. "And you've got a lot of excuses for someone who keeps spending everything he gets."
Edward's jaw tightened. "Watch your mouth."
"Then stop giving me reasons to use it."
The room fell quiet.
Edward stepped toward her. "You think I'm enjoying this?"
"I think you're avoiding it."
"I've been looking for money all day!"
"And where did it go?"
Edward's eyes flickered.
Kim caught the hesitation. "The casino?"
"Shut up."
"You went gambling again?"
"I said shut up!"
The woman on the bed stirred. "Please…"
Her voice was barely audible, but both of them stopped.
Kim immediately hurried to her mother's side. "Mother…"
The woman looked between them with tired eyes. "Don't argue…"
Kim's anger softened. "We're not arguing."
Her mother gave her a faint, exhausted look. "You are."
Kim lowered her gaze.
Edward rolled his eyes. "Always this nonsense."
Kim turned back to him. "She's sick, and you're still making this about your pride."
"Edward…" The woman's voice trembled. "Please."
He clicked his tongue. "Fine."
Turning away, he muttered, "I'm tired of this house."
Kim looked at him. "And we're tired of waiting for you to help."
Edward spun around. "What did you say?"
"You heard me."
Her voice remained steady, though her hands tightened at her sides.
"You keep saying you'll get the money. You keep saying tomorrow. Then tomorrow comes, and there's nothing."
"I told you I'm trying."
"No, you're hiding. There's a difference."
Edward stared at her. For a moment, he had no answer. The accusation settled over him more heavily than he wanted to admit, and he felt the familiar heat of shame rise beneath his collar. He crushed it down before it could become anything else.
Kim pressed on. "If you can't pay, say so. If you won't pay, say that instead. But stop making her wait for a promise you never meant to keep."
Edward's face hardened. "You think you know everything."
"I know she's getting worse."
"I know that!"
"Then do something!"
The words struck harder than her earlier accusations. Edward's hands curled into fists.
Then the stranger's words returned.
A school.
For exceptionally intelligent children.
Accommodation. Education. Everything provided.
And they compensate the family.
Edward's eyes drifted toward Kim, and his expression changed—only slightly.
The offer had sounded absurd when he first heard it. Too clean. Too generous. Now, with the woman's ragged breathing behind him and the memory of empty pockets pressing against his skin, its edges seemed less impossible.
Kim noticed his silence. "What?"
"Nothing."
"No. You're looking at me like you've decided something."
Edward's gaze sharpened. "You want the money or not?"
"Of course I do."
"Then stop asking questions."
"That depends on what you're planning."
He looked away. "How much is the treatment?"
She frowned. "You already know."
"How much?"
"Enough that we don't have."
"That isn't a number."
"It's more than you can steal, borrow, or gamble back."
Edward's mouth tightened. "Just tell me."
She gave him the amount.
For a moment, he said nothing. The figure hung between them, final and impossible.
Kim watched his face. "Now what?"
Edward slipped his fingers into his pocket, where they brushed against something.
The card.
He pulled it out. Its blank white surface stared back at him, marked by a single phone number and nothing else. It felt unnaturally smooth against his rough fingertips, almost warm from the stranger's hand—or perhaps from his own.
Edward rubbed his thumb across it.
For one brief moment, he imagined the money in his palm. Then he imagined Kim gone, the room empty, the bed silent. The second image came unbidden, and he shoved it away with a curse forming behind his teeth.
"What are you looking at?" Kim asked.
"Nothing."
"That's not nothing."
He quickly folded the card and slipped it back into his pocket.
The woman coughed weakly.
Kim looked toward the bed, then back at him. "If you have a way to help her, use it."
Edward glanced at the woman, then at Kim. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I'm asking you to keep her alive."
"You think it's that simple?"
"No. I think you're making it complicated because you're afraid."
His eyes flashed. "You don't get to call me afraid."
"Then prove me wrong."
The woman coughed again, weaker this time.
Edward looked at her, then at Kim, and finally toward the door. His face twisted with frustration. The card seemed to weigh more than it should, dragging at the fabric of his pocket.
"Damn it."
Kim watched him carefully. "What did you agree to?"
"Nothing."
"Then why do you have that card?"
Edward's silence answered her.
Kim's expression changed. "What kind of deal is it?"
"It's not your concern."
"It becomes my concern if it's the only reason she might get treatment."
Edward's jaw clenched. "You want the money? Then don't ask where it comes from."
"I want to know what you're sacrificing."
He stared at her.
Kim's voice dropped, but the pressure in it only grew. "Because if the price is me, you don't get to pretend this is help."
Edward reached into another pocket and pulled out an old phone. The screen was cracked.
Kim went still. "What does that mean?"
"Nothing."
"You're calling them?"
"Be quiet."
"Father—"
"I said be quiet!"
The woman on the bed stirred at the shout. Edward flinched, then lowered his voice.
"I'm handling it."
Kim stepped closer. "You're not handling anything. You're cornered."
His eyes met hers.
"And you're about to make a decision for me," she continued, "without even having the courage to tell me what it is."
Edward stared at the phone. For several seconds, his thumb hovered over the keypad. He remembered the stranger's blue eyes, the calm voice, and the strange offer. There had been no threat in it, which somehow made it worse. No demand, no explanation—only the quiet certainty that Edward would eventually come crawling back.
When you've made your decision, call the number.
Edward swallowed. His mouth had gone dry.
"What are you doing?" Kim asked.
"Getting your money."
"At what cost?"
He looked at her, anger and shame warring across his face. "You want your mother treated?"
"Yes."
"Then let me do this."
"That isn't an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Kim's eyes shone, but she refused to look away. "If you make this call, don't lie to me afterward."
Edward's thumb pressed against the first digit.
"Father."
He stopped.
"Whatever you're about to do," she said, "remember that I'll have to live with it too."
The words landed harder than any accusation. Edward's hand trembled once before he forced it still.
He pressed the first digit, then the second, then another. Each tone sounded too loud in the cramped room, and with every number, the possibility became harder to dismiss and harder to escape.
The phone began to ring.
Edward raised it to his ear.
For the first time that night, he looked uncertain.