Charles stared at the message blankly. There was a way he could wiggle out of his current situation? He looked at James, who still looked a little guilty, then Amelia, who looked even more guilty about listening to James and trying to carry out his request. “I'll leave you to rest then.” He said, and walked away, but turned sharply at the door. “Don't try anything stupid, okay! You should stay just like that. I'll work on my plan.” He snapped, and James managed to nod, with a smile. Charles left the room, and went to his, locking the door behind him. Then he asked the system his question. “What do you mean by there's a way I can wiggle out of this?” He asked, “What do I have to do to get out of this situation?” The system replied almost immediately, giving him two tasks that seemed a little tedious. YOU CAN WIGGLE YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS BY FULFILLING THESE TWO TASKS. TASK ONE: RAISING HALF A MILLION DOLLARS, WITHOUT THE HELP OF THE SYSTEM, AND EXHAUSTING IT ON THE ONE IN A PARTICULAR WARD OF A HOSPITAL, WHO NEEDS IT THE MOST. FAILURE TO SPEND ON THE RIGHT PERSON, WILL BRING ABOUT DIRE CONSEQUENCES. TASK TWO: WINNING THE TECH COMPETITION WITHOUT THE HELP OF THE SYSTEM. Charles read the instructions of the system over, and over, until he eventually scoffed. Why was it telling him to do all that without its help? How was he to go about it? He had absolutely no idea. Charles walked to his bed, sitting and placing his head in his arms, and his elbows on his knees. The system had never been that way before. Why was it suddenly bringing about all that new change? It seemed so different from the system he used to know. Charles sighed again, not knowing where to start from. Then he began to wonder: If the system could give such a task to help a person, then it could also give weird tasks. What other tasks did it have in store for him? Helping was good, but how to identify the person he was to help was the problem. Helping the wrong person would bring about dire consequences. What if more confusing tasks were given to him in the future, with no clear way of how to carry them out?Charles got up from his bed, and went to his desk to pour himself a cup of water. “What system upgrade did I accept to?” He asked himself, rubbing his forehead, as the water plopped into the glass continuously. He raised the glass to his lips, and drank it all at once. It wasn't an upgrade that would benefit him. He had actually counted on the system helping for the competition. Not that he couldn't handle it himself, but his success was definite and taken care of, with the help of the system. Charles left his room, and trudged down the stairs slowly, unable to get his mind off the tasks the system required of him. Had it been he had anyone to ask about it, it would have been better, but he had no one to ask about it. No one knew of the system, and even if they did, they would not know what to do, with such an overbearing upgrade. He already had so much on his head, he didn't need any more problems to work out. Charles began to feel lost. Try as he might, he couldn't think. So many suggestions floated into his head, but they disappeared as fast as vapor. Martha noticed, and offered him a light dessert, and Charles appreciated her. He ate the dessert, but couldn't feel the taste, as his mind wasn't anywhere close to it. ~ That evening, Charles still couldn't find a surefire way to deal with the situation, so he drank instead. He poured glass after glass of wine, and drank. James was still there, requiring painkillers almost every three hours. He was still there feeling guilty, and probably scared because of the bomb in his arm, which could go off anytime Longman wanted. He needed to help James out immediately, but those tasks seemed like a dead-end to his problem-solving skills. After drinking for a while, he decided to stay optimistic. He could raise half a million dollars, without the help of the system, and as for the hospital, he could simply check the wards for the person, who required the help the most. Although that part seemed tedious, and impossible to do. “Well, it's worth giving a shot.” He said to himself. The next day, Charles went to see Mr. Longman, and he welcomed him like he was a friend, not minding how he had played dirty to get Charles. “Welcome! I see you've come quite a long way. Ready to officiate the deal on our partnership?” Mr. Longman asked. “I'm a busy man, so why don't we just get on with the contract?” He asked, and Longman chucked, as he settled on the sofa opposite Charles. “Oh ho, you're an impatient one, aren't you?” He continued to chuckle, and his P. A brought the papers. Charles read through carefully, making sure there wasn't any other additional clause that could put him in more problems, since he couldn't trust Mr. Longman with anything. The contract was clean, and he sighed it hastily, not wanting to waste any time with a man who constantly disgusted him. “Finally. We're partnering up for the competition. What a delight to have you as a partner, Mr. Lincoln.” He said, extending his arm, and Charles shook it briefly. Charles got up, and left, so he could check on James, and make sure Longman didn't go back on his words. But in his mind, he resolved to get back at Mr. Longman, and pay him back in multiple folds. Of all the people he hated, he hated dubious and dirty people the most. When he was done with everything, he was definitely not going to leave him alone.