Spirit Game

His father let out a tired sigh. "Yeah. They said it was because we're getting too old for the job."

His mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "They didn't say it outright, but we know what's happening. They're replacing people like us with robots, son. They claim it's about efficiency, but it's just a way to cut costs and get rid of older workers." Her voice cracked, bitterness and hurt spilling out in the tremble of her words.

Rain clenched his fists, a wave of anger boiling up inside him. "But you're not even that old! You're only in your forties, right?"

His father gave a sad, resigned smile. "It's just an excuse, Rain. They want fresh faces, younger people who can work longer hours for less pay—or machines that don't need breaks at all."

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His mother's eyes filled with unshed tears, her hands trembling as she tried to maintain her composure. "They're targeting older employees, pushing us out one by one. It's happening to a lot of people at the factory. Families are being left with nothing."

The words hit Rain like a punch to the gut. He'd always known his parents worked hard, long hours to provide for him, but seeing them like this—tired, defeated—was unbearable.

But a strange sense of relief also washed over him. They wouldn't have to grind themselves to the bone anymore. They wouldn't have to be away from home, working themselves to exhaustion every day just to make ends meet.

Now, he could take care of them.

His father tried to muster a smile, attempting to lighten the mood despite the heaviness of the situation. "But don't worry about us, Rain. We've got our severance pay. It's enough to get us through a few months. By then, we'll figure something out. We'll find new jobs."

Rain felt a pang of doubt. His parents hadn't gone to college, and with their age, the job market wouldn't be kind. The competition was fierce, and without specialized skills, finding stable work would be nearly impossible. He could see through the forced optimism—they were just trying to comfort him, to keep him from worrying.

He took a deep breath, making a decision. "Mom, Dad," he said, looking between them with a resolve he hadn't felt before. "Why don't you take this time to relax? You've worked so hard for so long. Go on a vacation, take a break. You deserve it."

His mother blinked at him, surprised. "A vacation? But we need to save—"

Rain cut her off gently but firmly. "Let me take care of it. I've been doing well, and I want to give you both a chance to breathe. To enjoy life, even if it's just for a little while."

His father's brows furrowed, concern etched on his face. "Son, we appreciate it, but you don't need to—"

Rain held up a hand, smiling softly. "I want to. Please. You've spent your whole lives taking care of me. Let me return the favor, just this once."

His parents exchanged a look, the kind that carried years of shared hardship and love. His mother's eyes softened, a tear slipping down her cheek. She stepped forward and hugged Rain tightly, her grip warm and familiar.

"You've grown up so much," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Rain felt his own eyes sting, but he held her close, his heart full. He'd do everything he could to make sure they'd never have to work themselves to exhaustion again. He would give them the comfort they deserved, the peace they'd earned through years of sacrifice.

"Don't worry about anything," he said, his voice steady. "I've got this. From now on, I'm taking care of you."

Rain could see the worry in his parents' eyes. He knew they were trying to keep up a brave face, but the uncertainty of their situation was eating at them. He needed to reassure them somehow, and a bold idea struck him—something that would take the weight off their shoulders, at least temporarily.

Rain cleared his throat, plastering on a confident smile. "Actually, you guys don't need to worry about finding jobs. I've already got something lined up—a high-paying one, too."

His mother's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "You? A high-paying job?" She looked him up and down, like she was expecting to see him dressed in a suit and tie, rather than his usual casual clothes.

"Yeah," Rain nodded, leaning into his lie. He had to sell it. "I've been working as a financial consultant for some big clients. You know, stock trading, investment portfolios, that kind of thing." It wasn't a total lie—he had been trading, but Soul Elixirs, not stocks.

His father's jaw dropped. "A financial consultant? At your age?" He looked at Rain as if he'd just grown horns. "Are you pulling our leg, son? You're still in high school!"

Rain laughed it off. "I know it sounds crazy, but I got really good at it over the past year. You could say I had a bit of a head start," he added, thinking of his trading exploits in the Spirit Realm.

His parents exchanged a skeptical glance, clearly struggling to wrap their heads around the idea. "Rain," his mother said slowly, "you're telling us you've been making enough money to support yourself—at your age?"

Rain nodded confidently. "Why don't I show you?"

He pulled out his phone and opened his banking app, the remaining balance from his last big trade flashing on the screen. He turned it around to show them the number: **$24,750**. It was the remaining cash from when he had sold a large batch of Soul Elixirs.

His mother's eyes widened, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God," she whispered, clearly stunned.

His father's eyes narrowed as he leaned in closer, double-checking the screen as if expecting it to disappear any second. "Twenty-four thousand dollars?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "How on earth did you manage this?"