Spirit Game

His father raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like we're just going to hop on a plane tomorrow," he chuckled, but the sound was lighter, less weighed down by the earlier stress. "We haven't even thought about where we'd go."

Rain shrugged. "You don't have to decide right now. But I'm serious—take some time for yourselves. Go to the beach, visit some hot springs, or even just take a few weeks to relax at home. I've got this covered."

His mother's smile grew, even as fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. She hugged him again, tighter this time. "We're so lucky to have you, Rain. We don't deserve this."

Rain's throat tightened, and he fought back his own tears. "You deserve everything," he whispered back. "And I'm going to make sure you get it."

His father's hand found his shoulder again, squeezing it in silent support. "Alright," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "We'll think about it. We'll take a few days to figure things out. But Rain—thank you. Truly. You've done more for us than we could ever ask."

Rain pulled back, giving his father a determined look. "You don't need to thank me. This is just the beginning. I'm going to make sure you never have to worry about anything ever again."

For the first time in a long while, the tension in the room seemed to lift, replaced by a tentative but growing sense of hope. His parents looked at him, not just with the worry of caretakers, but with a newfound respect and pride. And as Rain met their eyes, he felt a surge of determination unlike any he'd ever felt before.

This was his chance to make a real difference, to change their lives for the better. And he wasn't going to let it slip away.

====

After taking his parents out to dinner at an expensive restaurant, Rain returned home with them to relax. The evening had been filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, something Rain hadn't experienced in a long time. His parents seemed lighter, almost as if the weight of their worries had been temporarily lifted.

Though $20,000 wasn't a significant fortune in their country, it was enough to allow his parents to take a two-month break.

Of course, Rain had far more money than that. With all the Soul Elixirs in his possession, he was a billionaire in essence, but those funds weren't exactly liquid. The elixirs were crucial for developing his territory in the game, and selling too many of them could destabilize his plans.

For now, he settled on spending just enough to live comfortably and make sure that his parents stayed relax and unpressured about money and work.

Later that night, Rain sat at his desk, preparing to dive back into the game. He was eager to continue his progress, with countless strategies swirling in his mind. But just as he was about to log in, his phone buzzed unexpectedly.

It was Fifi.

Rain frowned. Fifi rarely called him outside of their usual meetings and updates. Something about the timing made him hesitate before answering.

"Hello?" he said, his voice calm but laced with curiosity.

On the other end of the line, he heard a muffled sob. It was Fifi, her voice trembling as she spoke. Discover exclusive content at empire

"Rain . . . I-I'm so sorry for calling you late like this," she said between gasps of breath. "I didn't mean to bother you, but . . . I just—I can't take it anymore."

Rain's grip on the phone tightened, his casual demeanor immediately replaced with concern. "Fifi? What's wrong? Take a deep breath and tell me what's going on."

There was a brief pause as Fifi tried to steady herself. Her voice was still shaky when she continued. "My territory . . . it's gone. They took everything, Rain."

Rain's eyes narrowed. He leaned forward, his heart pounding. "Who took it? What happened?"

"It was a group of players," Fifi explained, her words coming out in a rush. "They invaded my territory while I was offline. I had defenses, but . . . it wasn't enough. They were too strong. They destroyed everything, they captured my troops, took hold of my buildings . . . everything I worked so hard to build." Her voice broke again, and she let out a soft sob.

"I don't know what to do anymore."

Rain's mind raced as he listened. He knew how much effort Fifi had put into her territory. Losing it would be devastating.

Rain knew that losing his territory would make him insane after all the effort he had put in it.

"I'll be coming to the mainland next, Fifi. Can you wait for me there? Is there a friend or someone you can stay with for now?"

A pause lingered on the other end of the line before Fifi's hesitant voice replied. "There is . . . but, Rain, what are you planning to do?"

Rain's tone turned resolute, steady like the calm before a storm. "We'll talk when I get there. For now, just breathe, Fifi. You're not alone in this, and I'll help you get back what's yours."

"W-What? Y-You don't have to do that, Rain!" Fifi's voice cracked as she stammered. "I didn't call because I wanted you to help me take back my territory. I just needed to tell someone . . . I couldn't keep the pain to myself anymore. I should be grateful I'm even alive."

"Fifi." Rain's voice sharpened, cutting through her despair like a blade. "Don't worry. And just so you know, I'm not doing this for free."

"What?!" Fifi exclaimed, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you remember that time when I was starving, and you gave me that sweet?" Rain's voice softened, carrying a warmth that contrasted with his earlier tone.

"Y-Yes . . ." she whispered, her voice fragile.

"It's payback for that," Rain said with a faint smirk audible in his voice. "So don't argue."

"Rain . . ." Fifi's voice cracked, and she began to sob again. "What are you even saying? You're going to help me just because of something so small?"

"It's not small," Rain countered firmly. "When I was so hungry, you were the only one who offered me food. That gesture alone is worth more than you know. If you ever think you don't deserve help, remember that moment."

On the other side of the line, Fifi broke down into a mix of gratitude and relief. "Thank you, Rain. Thank you."

As the call ended, Rain leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He had plenty of reasons to go to the mainland, but now he had one more. Not out of obligation, but because friendship wasn't something he ever took lightly.