One Percent Too Late

In the twenty years I was bound to my host, this was the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time I had watched him argue with Vivian Hale.

The meal he had carefully prepared was smashed all over the floor.

His eyes were red as he nearly shouted at her.

"Why do you choose him every single time? You divorced him, remember? I am your husband!"

Vivian remained calm, as if she had known all along that my host would make a scene.

"So what if we divorced? I have a child with him. I cannot just ignore him."

That one careless sentence left my host sitting frozen in place for a long, long time.

Long enough for the sky outside to go completely dark.

There had been countless moments like this before, but he had always gritted his teeth and held on.

I thought this time would be no different.

Until my host suddenly asked me,

"What happens if I abandon the mission?"

For a moment, I thought I had misheard him. Instinctively, I looked at the system screen beside me.

Still, when Simon Mercer asked, I gave him the answer.

"If you choose to abandon the mission on your own, you will be erased. Your soul will turn into data and disappear completely."

Simon was silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on the wreckage across the floor.

"Submit the request for me. I am done."

I was speechless, but I still tried to persuade him.

"Vivian Hale's affection score is already at ninety-nine. You are only one percent away from success.

"Even if her affection is only at ninety-nine, she still loves you..."

Simon took out a cigarette and lit it. Smoke blurred the expression on his face.

His voice was hoarse.

"I have spent ten whole years trying to cross that final one percent."

I had no answer.

In the twenty years I had been bound to him, I had seen everything.

At first, he had only been chasing mission progress. In the end, step by step, he had fallen in.

He loved her beyond saving.

I was about to say something else when there was movement at the entryway.

Vivian had come home.

She waved away the heavy smoke.

Her gaze landed on the shattered plates on the floor before finally moving to Simon, who was still smoking.

Vivian frowned, impatience in her voice.

"Didn't you quit smoking ten years ago? Why are you smoking again? You know I hate the smell.

"You broke those things. Clean them up yourself."

She said it casually, then stepped around the broken pieces and went into the bedroom.

When she came out, she was holding a bank card and dragging a suitcase.

Every time she took that bank card before, it had always been to withdraw money for her ex-husband and son.

Whenever Simon saw it, he would fight with her.

But this time, Simon's face showed no expression at all. He did not even say a word.

Vivian paused as she was about to leave.

Maybe because she did not hear his usual questioning, she glanced back at him.

"My son has a fever. A hundred and two. I am not lying this time.

"Adrian Lane is a grown man, but he does not know how to take care of a child. The boy cannot be without me right now.

"I am moving over there for a while..."

Her tone was stiff, but for once, she had the patience to explain.

"You do not need to tell me any of that."

Simon's voice was flat, as if he were speaking about something that had nothing to do with him.

"He is your son. Decide for yourself."

Vivian's eyes widened slightly.

From the system screen, I could see the numbers tracking her heartbeat rising.

Maybe she was wondering why Simon did not argue with her the way he always did.

The air went silent.

In the end, Vivian seemed to resign herself and sighed.

She set down the suitcase, bent over, and picked up the pieces of broken porcelain.

"I do not even know what you are mad about. It was just an anniversary. We can celebrate it anytime.

"I do not even give a hoot, so why do you?"

Vivian complained softly as she cleaned up the mess on the floor.

Simon watched her quietly, then suddenly asked,

"Vivian, compared to loving me, do you love Adrian more?"

Vivian's hands paused.

Then she said, almost carelessly,

"We have been married for so many years. Why are we still talking about love? If I did not love you, would I have married you?"

There was a ding.

The affection score that had been stuck at ninety-nine suddenly dropped to ninety-eight.

It was also in that moment that I finally understood why my host had chosen to give up on the person he had spent twenty years pursuing.

Vivian's phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, then hurried toward the entryway.

"I am leaving. I will not be back for the next few days. Clean up the rest yourself."

The door slammed shut.

Almost the second the door closed, Simon vomited a mouthful of blood.

Clutching his chest, he slowly slid down the wall and crouched on the floor.

I was worried, but there was nothing I could change.

If the mission target did not love him, then he, as the mission taker, had to suffer the punishment.

Ten years ago, he had already failed once.

I still remembered that day when he begged me.

"It is only one percent. If you ask me to give up now, I cannot accept it. I will pay any price. Just give me one more chance."

I gave it to him.

But the price was his life.

After ten years, his body had long been drained dry.