Morgan stares at the new window.
The window stares back.
He exhales through his nose.
"So," he says, voice rough, "death now comes with mind control, whiplash, and some paperwork. Sounds like the start of a good romance."
Morgan shakes his head and sits on the ground, trying to make sense of the information he's seeing. He actually doesn't care much about the "you're doomed if you don't" shenanigan the 'system' presented on the last line. But the implication that his son's letter has something to do with the quest is something he can't just gloss over.
So Morgan tries things he recalls from his son's favorite books to figure out how this system works. He tries willing the table to go away, shrink, and expand, focusing on words to make their meaning pop out, willing the status to fold and unfold, while pushing his thoughts not to halt on the mention of his son as much as possible as he mentally clicks every word he sees on the system window.
Some tricks, like folding, organizing, and opening or closing the window, work perfectly. Some, though, don't work as he remembers them from the books. When he tries to focus on words, nothing happens at first. But as he continues from top to bottom, he notices some words leaving an impression of their meanings, like the knowledge just appearing in his mind.
For example, he knows "Titles" are passive stats that help force your stats on your surroundings. Another one is "PoI," that means Person of Interest, and "Existential," is life or death. He could have guessed the last one himself, but it never hurt to make sure.
Then his gaze drops to the final line.
Y/N
What does he have to lose either way? He's already lost everything he values. The only thing thats of interests to him is figuring out how his son's letter is related to the system quest. 'dick move' from the system that he can't know what the quest really is, but he knows nothing can be done about it. Or maybe the system knows he wouldn't say yes if he knew because it read his mind. Who knows?
He tries one last time. "Define Existential."
Silence continues its long, committed relationship with him.
He sighs, flexing his fingers. Smaller fingers. Annoying fingers. Someone else's childhood fingers.
"Either way... lying down achieves nothing."
He mentally pokes the Y.
The window pulses. Light spills outward—not bright, but dense, like reality buffering.
Pressure fills his ears. His stomach drops half an inch. His skin prickles, every hair reacting like static before lightning.
Quest Accepted
Existential Quest Initiated
Then Everything turns white.
Suddenly, he's back in his mansion in Hidden Hills. But not like before, seeing the image from outside. Now He's back in his own body, holding the letter and reading it again and again. He wishes he didn't find that letter. He wishes the house burned with it inside.
"Hey Dad.
We haven't had our emergency juice protocol time because I'm sick. So I'm writing you another letter instead. Doctor Lia says it really helps.
I know you're not like other people. You don't get sad at the same stuff, and you don't get happy at the same stuff either. But you still notice things. You even see stuff other people don't.
So I'm not gonna say 'be nice' or 'be good,' because you always say those words don't mean anything unless someone explains them.
So I'll just say: if you see someone who can't protect themselves, and you can help, you should.
You always say "bullying is not nice, but it's how the world is." But I want you to make the world a little better. You also always say that the world works in rules and patterns. So this can be one of your rules.
You don't have to act different. You don't have to pretend to feel stuff. Just don't let unfair things happen when you're strong enough to stop them. And you are strong enough, Dad. I know you can stop some bad things from happening as you did for me. But if you don't, then who will?
I love you, Dad
— Kiddo the Great"
Then his vision went black.
Morgan is… unique. He knows that. Actually, from what he has gathered, the whole Whitlock line has been the weird bunch: maturity at a very young age, high-functioning photographic memories, psychopathic tendencies, relatively young body and face in similar age brackets, antisocial behavior, and extensive net worth with no political or social association except one or two familys like the Viremonts. They are some royal bloodline from England, who have casually kept in touch with him here and there. The only thing he knows is they have had a lot of business dealings and favor exchanges with his family through the generations.
And Elliot is no exception. Even Morgan is impressed by the intelligence his son shows, even at a young age. Looking in his eyes, Morgan always feels unsettled, unsure. And that's saying a lot coming from him. People say Morgan has no soul in his eyes. Elliot is the opposite. You can see a caring soul full of life and wisdom from a young age. There's no sillyness of being a kid. He always acts like a grown up who knows everything and a kid who wants to know everything. And the kindness in him knows no bounds. In short, the veiled judge of the West, the devil in man's clothing, the dark star, the serpentine prince—Morgan Whitlock has no defense against his son. And This letter is the last bullet that destroyed the mental patchwork keeping him together on thread.
Morgan opens his eyes
Quest Directive:
Morgan Whitlock, based on your anchor of will, you have been given a system-approved quest from your bloodline.
Judge intents
Preserve innocents
Correct wrongs
Quest reward:
Will increase based on parameter requirements.
Will increases by 10 per level
Bloodline bonus: Will increases by 15% per level
Morgan goes still, trying to recover from the implications of what he's reading as the next lines form.
Warning:
Failure to hold to the parameters of the quest will lead to undesirable circumstances.
Acting against the parameter of the quest will lead to undesirable circumstances.
Willing the window to close, he sighs.
"Kiddo, what did you do to me? "
Last time he basically killed himself to fix his wrongs in the world. Now he has to try a different way and see if he can satisfy the ghost of his kid who seem to follow him even to the afterlife. He closes his eyes, returning to the same scene, accepting his son's request in a new light. Warmth spreads through his chest—not emotional, not quite physical. More like a lock sliding into place inside his ribs. Something aligning. Something deciding he is, unfortunately, still required to exist.
A small window shows up on the far left side of his vision.
System Notification: Will +4
The pressure in the air eases.
The window minimizes, shrinking to a faint symbol at the edge of his vision.
He rolls his shoulders. It's time to deal with the silent watcher he has been entertaining.
"Umm… you know it's weird to be a peeping Tom in your own place. You should come say hi."
Wood creaks, and someone stumbles on the edge of the large open exit. Then there's silence.
"Come on, I know you're there," he says, tilting his head to show he knows where they're hiding.
A girl, maybe thirteen, comes out. She has dark hair tied back badly, like she did it while losing an argument. Her clothes are a little worn but clean. Oval face, deep blue eyes, slightly upturned nose.
"Uh… what's a peeping Tom?" she says .
"It's when someone is watching you while you're doing something private."
Her eyes widen, and she stutters, blushing uncontrollably. "No, that's not… I was just…" Her gaze drops to his chest and then to his eyes. Then she turns and runs.
He stares as she disappear to the side of the house."What was that?"
Then he remembers: he's still shirtless. Still covered in dirt. Still looking like he lost a fight with the concept of hygiene.
"Jesus, Morgan. What a great first impression." He murmered to himself as he follows her footsteps.