James sat alone in his dimly lit room, the glow of the system's interface now gone—but its words still echoed in his skull like war drums.
Two missions remained:
Do not watch pornography.
Do not touch yourself indecently.
For some, maybe that was easy.
But for James... it was war.
He had tried to quit before—over and over. But the urges didn't just return. They came back louder. Filthier. Hungrier.
This wasn't temptation.
This was addiction.
And stopping cold turkey?
It felt like trying to hold back a tidal wave with bare hands.
But tonight, James had a plan.
Primitive? Yes.
Desperate? Absolutely.
Effective? He could only hope.
"I'll put mittens on my hands and tie them to my chest," he muttered. "That way... even in my sleep, I'll be safe."
He sprang into motion.
Rope from the garage.
Mittens from the kitchen drawer.
Padding from old towels to prevent burns.
He worked with trembling focus. First the mittens. Then the rope. He tried looping it around his torso—
"GAH! I'm too fat to reach my back!"
No matter how he twisted or contorted, he couldn't tie himself fully.
But he didn't give up.
From his drawer, he yanked out a thick leather belt.
With a grunt, he looped it around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides, and yanked it tight. His chest compressed. Skin puffed around the edges. He winced.
But it worked.
James stood in front of the mirror.
Mittens on. Belt tight. Rope in place.
He looked like some character from a deeply questionable corner of the internet.
'God, I really hope no one sees me like this...'
He crawled into bed like a trussed hog on a spit.
His arms throbbed. His legs burned from the earlier jog. His stomach growled.
But none of it mattered—not compared to the thought of dying... and taking his family down with him.
"It's up to my subconscious now," he whispered. "Either it breaks me... or it learns to behave."
And with that, James surrendered to sleep.
It was only 8 PM.
--
As the hours passed, James slept in twisted silence.
His face clenched. Sweat beaded at his brow.
Inside the mittens, his fingers twitched.
His lips whispered names he didn't remember speaking.
Shadows of old routines echoed through his bones.
Withdrawal.
His body screamed. But it was bound.
By rope. By leather.
By resolve.
And so—through the storm—he endured.
---
Morning – 8 AM
James opened his eyes.
The light stabbed his skull. His limbs were stiff, his back aching from sleep paralysis. Arms tingled—numb and bloated with pooled blood.
But...
He was alive.
He blinked, sat up with a grunt—and then realization struck.
"I... I can't get myself out," he muttered.
He rolled on the bed. Rocked side to side. Tried everything.
Nothing worked.
The belt had done its job.
"Damn it... why am I so good at this?" he sighed, exhausted and embarrassed.
There was only one person who could help.
The one person he didn't want to see him like this... but the only one he trusted enough to ask.
"…Mom."
He swallowed his pride.
"MOM! MOOOM! I—I need help!"
Footsteps.
The door creaked open.
Vanessa Draevin stood in the doorway, hair disheveled, eyes still foggy from sleep.
"James, honey, what's—"
She stopped.
And stared.
There he was.
Mittens on.
Chest wrapped in a belt.
Rope loops drooping awkwardly off his sides.
"…What the hell…?"
Before she could say another word—
DING.
[ Sudden Mission Triggered]
Mission: Tell your mother the truth.
Difficulty: F
Reward: Choose 1 of 5 Special-Grade Wishes
Failure: Untimely death of your entire family.
James's heart stopped.
'What?! Not now—Not THIS!'
But the system didn't care.
Vanessa stepped forward, gently undoing the belt. "Did someone do this to you? Was it a prank? The twins? Julia?"
James didn't answer at first. His jaw clenched. His eyes burned.
Finally—he spoke. Slowly. Barely above a whisper.
"…I did this to myself."
Her hands froze.
"I… I'm ashamed," he said, voice trembling. "But I'm an addict, Mom. I've been for a long time. I struggle with school. I can't talk to people. I disappear into my room and lose hours doing disgusting things. Just to feel... something."
The words clawed out of his throat like broken glass.
"I tied myself up because... I'm sick of it. I want to stop. I want to change. Not just for me... but for you. For all of you."
Tears blurred his vision.
He didn't look up.
Didn't dare.
He imagined her face twisted in disgust. Recoil. Anger.
Then—
A warm hand on his cheek.
Soft. Reassuring. Forgiving.
Vanessa knelt beside the bed.
"I'm your mother," she said gently. "No matter what you've done... I'll always love you."
Her voice cracked, but her gaze held steady.
"You're still my son. My firstborn. My baby."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"And I'm proud of you—for having the strength to fight something so ugly. Even like this, you showed courage most people run from."
She wrapped her arms around him—mittens and all.
A mother's hug. Unshakeable. Safe.
"You don't have to carry this alone anymore, James."
"You never did."
---
DING.
Mission Complete
1 Special Wish Granted
Love Level with Vanessa: MAX