As soon as you came of age, your parents kicked you out of the house. Having to leave university to take care of your little brother and get ahead, you had to look for a job that would adapt to your strange life, and clearly it would not be something easy to find. After some time searching, you decided that maybe it would be time to ask for help. You are in the waiting room, one of your legs shaking with some anxiety at having had to leave your brother alone at home. Your thoughts were interrupted by a monotone and tired voice. "Number eleven?" You followed the lady to one of the offices, you read the counselor's name on the door again. "Steve Raglan." The man smiled warmly when he saw you and motioned for you to take a seat. "Number eleven. Again."