Hacking the Game Didn't Go as Intended [Part One]

CHAPTER 9: Survival Tactics

When Daisuke returned home that night, he expected to find his worried mother waiting at the front door. He anticipated her relentless scolding until dawn, followed by a meager offering of stale bread. But there was no sign of her, no flicker of candlelight in the windows.

Fearing the worst, Daisuke hurried inside and made a beeline for the bedroom. "Mom?!" he called out in a panic, his breaths coming in rapid gasps.

He burst into the room to find his mother lying motionless on the well-worn bed, bathed in moonlight. Without hesitation, he rushed to her side, though there was no need to check her pulse; her labored breathing and drenched body told him all he needed to know.

Placing his hand gently on her forehead, Daisuke's heart sank. "Oh no, you're burning up! We need to bring that fever down right away."

Thankfully, it had rained just the night before. In the absence of any convenient water supply systems, much like the rest of the village, they had developed a habit of collecting rainwater in buckets for all their essential needs: cooking, drinking, and bathing.

Daisuke hurried outside to fetch a bucket with the cool rainwater. He dipped a clean towel into the liquid, carefully wringing out the excess before folding it neatly across her forehead.

With another damp cloth, he tenderly dabbed at her neck and arms, hoping to provide some relief from the heat and wipe away the sweat.

"...Haxks," she whispered weakly, managing a faint smile. "I'm so... glad you're okay."

"Don't strain yourself," Daisuke urged softly. "Just focus on getting better."

He bit his lower lip as he realized she had already drifted back to sleep. Instead of scolding him for leaving the safety of their home, she was simply relieved he had returned unharmed.

Yet, in that fleeting moment, Daisuke understood another unspoken message: with his mother bedridden, the responsibility now fell squarely on his shoulders to become the temporary breadwinner, or they would both face inevitable peril together.

Daisuke eyed his sack of hard-earned food scraps with a hint of bitterness. Between constantly being physically exhausted and malnourished, his mother's health had taken a turn for the worse. Feeding her unsanitary foods would only deteriorate her compromised immune system even further.

Sinking to his knees beside her bed, Daisuke gently cradled his mother's hand against his face. Despite his outward appearance as a seven-year-old, he carried the weight of an adult inside.

I can't keep going like this, he resolved within himself. I need to get my ass in gear! I need to step up and take charge!

***

In a forgotten corner of the slums, a lone gingko tree stood tall between two abandoned buildings. Its branches, adorned with golden leaves, provided a modest canopy that filtered the sunlight into soft, dappled patterns on the ground below.

Around the tree, children gathered, making the most of their bleak surroundings. Some perched on the lower branches, while others found seats on piles of garbage or leaned against the worn walls of the buildings.

Daisuke observed them quietly, feeling a sense of connection to their shared struggle in this neglected corner of the world. Rather than engaging in the cutthroat competition for scraps like the other children in the slums, Daisuke took a different approach. With the wisdom of his adult mind, he began forming a coalition among the children, using his eloquence to persuade those he could reach.

"Fighting amongst ourselves," he declared, his voice ringing out from behind a shoddy, makeshift podium, "will only lead to more suffering. But together, united, we can achieve far more than we ever could alone."