《My Lethal Company System》 Chapter 1 : Damn this company Quota 0/130 - Only 2 days left 5:00 PM Victor had arrived in front of a house with a lodge, the same one as the day before. He didn''t want to come back here after yesterday''s fiasco, but he had to. He had to if he wanted to become rich. Having made up his mind, Victor slipped into the house through the front door. He had left it open yesterday and would leave it open until he departed. The entrance hall was like those of wealthy homes: an immaculate white shining gently under the lamps¡¯ light, a cupboard filled with dusty coats, and a tall mirror reflecting guests without ever revealing their true colors. And it also reflected uninvited visitors like Victor. With his poor broke clothes, worn and stained in places, his shoes bought from the swindler near his place, already holed even though he had bought them last week, and his face so full of dark circles that one might wonder how he still managed to stand. Well, maybe he would have been handsome if he hadn''t been so poor. With his pale complexion, jet-black eyes that seemed to read souls, and his messy black hair giving him a brooding and mysterious look. But for now, he looked more like a corpse than a darkly handsome model. He had already searched the living rooms yesterday without finding anything interesting, so he went upstairs. He found a bedroom of no importance and a room that would probably ruin his day. "Damn this art collector," Victor muttered upon seeing the state of the room. The floor was messed by wooden chests marked with the initials of the worthless statues they contained. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. And that was precisely Victor''s problem. No value. Or at least, no value to the company. He had tried yesterday to submit one, but the lady at the front desk had kindly but firmly sent him back to this rotten house over 30 minutes from his place. And of course, the company wouldn''t pay for his gas. Damn this company. But he had learned his lesson: he wouldn''t tire himself to death today to bring back just one statue. He would only take small objects to at least have one of value and not get embarrassed like yesterday. ''Alright, time to get to work!'' he thought to cheer himself up. He began opening the smaller chests. There were sculpted heads, feet, hands, and busts. But Victor had trouble deciding. Yesterday''s whole statue had brought him nothing. He kept on searching. After nearly an hour, he finally found something other than those statue pieces. In a chest buried under its fellows laid a perfectly preserved bronze vase. Victor picked it up with a smile on his lips. "This has got to be worth at least 130, right?" he thought aloud. He carefully placed the vase in his backpack before checking the time. 6:00 PM He would soon have to leave to be on time for the first service. Victor took one last look at the back of the room. In the shadows lay a wooden chest over two meters tall that Victor opened with curiosity. He slowly opened it from the top only to be disappointed. ''No way I''m bringing this back,'' he thought. He had come face to face with a statue''s head. Art modern enthusiasts would no doubt love the statue, with its creepy human head, white torso dotted with nails, and its huge spring serving as a neck, but it wouldn''t fit in his car. He had struggled yesterday with a statue of one and a half meters, so over two meters was definitely out of reach. Especially since he had to leave. He closed the chest before leaving the room, bag in hand. After closing the door, he went downstairs. Passing through the kitchen to leave, he grabbed whatever he could, thinking: ''Might have value.'' He exited through the front door before turning to face the house. While it had the air of a wealthy house, Victor was leaving with only a bronze vase and some kitchen utensils. His only thought as he passed through the gate in his washed-out car was: ''Let¡¯s just hope that the next house will be better.'' But if Victor had known that he''d have to come back here tomorrow, without the company paying for his gas, he would have undoubtedly muttered: "Damn this company." Chapter 2 : A normal day in Victors life Quota 0/130 - Only 2 Days Left 6:30 PM "And now there''s a traffic jam, just perfect," Victor thought as he saw the endless line of cars ahead of him. His GPS assured him he''d make it on time, yet he couldn''t shake off his anxiety. Any minor accident or unforeseen delay and he''d be late for his first shift. And, of course, he couldn''t even blame the company for being late on his job due to the confidentiality agreement those sharks had made him sign. "Damn this company," he muttered for the umpteenth time, as if it were the source of all his problem. Perhaps in response to his constant complaints, the traffic ahead started to clear. He would''ve loved to hit the gas and slalomed through the traffic to avoid any other standstill on the ring road, but his car wouldn''t allow it. With 500,000 kilometers on the odometer and not a single check-up in the last 100,000 kilometers, it was a miracle that it was still running. But let''s not tempt fate. Victor slowly but surely maneuvered himself out of the cursed ring road and into the city. Lille. A French city in the extreme north, close to the Channel and England, where it always rains, where it''s always cold, and where unemployment seems to lurk around every corner. A city where, apart from Victor, everyone constantly complained... "Damn this city!" Victor exclaimed, stopping at the tenth red light in less than 10 minutes. Every light had turned red just as he was approaching, as if they were mocking him. Speaking of mocking, a black Mercedes pulled up on the bike lane next to his battered sedan and revved its engine. Normally, Victor would ignore such taunts, thinking, "Nice sound, but you''re lucky that I''m not in the mood to race." But not today. Today, he wanted to show those flashy German sedans not to underestimate French engineering. So, he responded to the challenge with a roar of his engine, admittedly less impressive than the Mercedes if he was being honest. The light was still red, but it was one of those temporary traffic lights at construction sites with a countdown. 5... The engines roared. 4... Pigeons seemed to be the only witnesses to the impending showdown. 3... Victor rolled up his window to improve aerodynamics. 2... He eyed his opponent: a young guy in his twenties, probably bought the car with his work bonuses. 1... On the passenger seat was a girl, probably his sister judging by the look of disgust on her face. She was quite cute, with her blonde pigtails swinging from side to side, her pristine white shirt, and her eyes¡ªblue, green, or brown, Victor couldn''t quite tell from the distance as he pressed his face against the passenger window to get a better look. He snapped out of his trance only to see the Mercedes stutter. The guy had stalled. Victor suddenly remembered he was in the middle of a race. "Damn this woman," he grumbled as he shifted gears. Races like this usually spanned from one light to the next over a distance of about 400 meters. But, of course, Lille had to have traffic lights everywhere, so their race would only cover about a hundred meters. The short distance favored Victor since the Mercedes had stalled, but he wasn''t about to thank the city for it. He was about to win when a loud thud came from under his hood, and a warning light flickered above his speedometer. He couldn''t accelerate at all. He looked back in disdain at the Mercedes catching up. "Damn this company," he muttered through his clenched teeth. As the sound of the German sedan grew louder, Victor approached the finish line at a snail''s pace. And as La Fontaine wrote, "There''s no point in running; you must leave without stalling and have enough momentum to cross the finish line." Thanking Monsieur de la Fontaine for the proverb, Victor crossed the finish line with less than a meter''s lead over the Mercedes. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. But even though he had won the race, Victor faced a small problem: he was stuck in the middle of the road with less than 10 minutes to make it to his shift. He glanced at the driver of the Mercedes on the bike lane asking for a rematch, then at the line of cars behind him, before he left his car and started running. He sincerely wished all the drivers good luck in his heart and prayed to God that the company would reimburse his repair costs. He sprinted towards his workplace a few hundred meters away, running as fast as his body would allow, ignoring the honks ringing in his ears. He arrived 2 minutes early, panting as if he had run a marathon, not a mere hundred meters. He now looked more like a zombie than a human, but it didn''t matter. He had arrived just in time to wear a waiter''s shirt and stand up for three hours. Perhaps this shift was more physically demanding than his morning or early afternoon jobs, but at least it was less boring and paid better. Packaging figurines early in the morning while still being sleepy had the supernatural power to put Victor to sleep faster than counting sheep, and cashiering in the afternoon made him roll his eyes every time an elderly lady showed up at his register. So, given the choice, he preferred standing for hours, salivating over the dishes that passed by rather than being bored. And he never said no to more money. He climbed the stairs and entered the hotel through the front door. While the building''s exterior was quite modern, the interior exuded classicism. There were luxurious leather armchairs, exquisite black and white engravings on the ceiling, a gleaming marble floor, and the soft sound of piano music floating in the air. After greeting the receptionist, he headed to the hotel''s restaurant. His father had secured this job for him several months ago, and Victor made it a point to always be on time. Because he probably wouldn''t find a waiter job this well-paid anywhere else in the city, and it was likely the last connection he had to his father. Of course, there were also all the debts to repay. Victor arrived at the hotel''s restaurant. At some tables, the regulars, always well-dressed, whom Victor saw daily reading their newspapers before starting their meals, were already seated. And at the bar, the restaurant manager was waiting for him, sternly checking the time on her watch. She must have been in her thirties, and Victor had to admit, she looked stunning in her suit. But, as with all beautiful things, it''s only upon closer inspection that the flaws become apparent: this woman should have been the embodiment of perfectionism. She only looked up when Victor approached. Her eyes might have shown indifference, but her voice was ice-cold: "You have 1 minute to get ready, Victor." Then she ignored him to check her watch again. ''Why are the most beautiful women always the craziest?'' Victor muttered as he hurried off to get ready. After slipping into a shirt and tidying up his hair, he got to work. Evenings were always very quiet, with clients either being extremely talkative or as silent as the grave. This evening was no exception. After finishing his shift, Victor left the hotel. The night had already fallen, and his car had vanished, likely towed away by a tow truck. Luckily, his apartment was just a short walk away, but Victor decided to take a slight detour. 10:00 PM ''Hopefully, I''ll be back before 11 PM,'' he thought as he set off. He was heading towards the company building. The alleys were deserted due to the cold, and Victor began to shiver under his coat. Fortunately, he had already arrived in front of the building. Nothing about its facade suggested that it hid a nefarious company behind its door, a company that had refused to reimburse Victor for his gas. And they would pay one day. But probably not today if Victor was being honest. Victor stepped through the door to find himself in front of the reception desk. On a chalkboard, the company''s four rules were scribbled: - Close the entrance doors after you. - Found items may only be sold to the company. - The existence of the company must remain a secret. - Meet your Quota. There was no mention of what might happen if someone broke any of these rules. Of course, Victor was already so in debt that he didn''t care about facing one or two lawsuits. He shifted his gaze from the rules to the person sitting behind the desk. It was a young woman whom Victor greeted with the codename she had given him the day before: "Good evening, Experimentation. - Good evening, Victor, how was your day?" she asked. - My car gave me trouble again," he replied, trying to sound as heart-rending as possible. But the receptionist wasn''t fooled. She swiftly changed the subject to the reason for his visit. "Are you here to sell?" Her entire demeanor changed the moment she asked. ''No need to be bipolar,'' Victor thought. Why else would he have come here, in the cold and late at night, if not to sell what he had found today? Perhaps she thought... he had come for her? He nervously observed the receptionist, trying to decipher her body language. Authority. Uprightness. And... irritation? Well, maybe Victor shouldn''t have stared at her so intently without saying a word. He finally emptied the contents of his bag. He had thought she would be surprised or even annoyed to see him pull out various pieces of dinnerware, but she showed no emotion. Experimentation stood up to take Victor''s findings to a machine in the corner of the room. It was a sort of printer with a digital screen, except instead of placing white sheets, there was room for statues over two meters long. This machine would decide if his day''s efforts were in vain. The vase went inside the machine, and a number began to appear on the screen. ''Please let it be 130...'' he muttered, holding his breath. The machine started to display the unit''s digit. 0. Then the tens digit.
And then, nothing else. The vase was worth 30. All his searching, all his efforts, for 30. Only for the whip that he had grabbed hastily from the kitchen to be valued at 40. If this wasn''t a joke, Victor didn''t know what was. He had filled half his quota, yet he left the building with a heavy heart, not even responding to the receptionist''s goodbye. He checked the time on his phone. 10:15 PM Maybe tomorrow would be better. He crossed the road in the rain to head home and was hit by a truck. Chapter 3 : A strange inner self Quota 70/130 - Last Day "Where am I? In Lyon?" Victor whispered, surveying his surroundings. Unless he unknowingly possessed an hologram in Lyon, he was far more in the countryside than in a city. He had no idea how he got there, and even if he knew, it wouldn''t necessarily help him. ''I guess I should be glad to still be alive,'' he thought. That is if being unconscious, in a coma, or even dead was still considered being alive. At least the surroundings would make for an exceptional paradise. A paradise exceptionally boring, perhaps, but a paradise nonetheless. A paradise with trees reaching the heavens, birds with angelic feathers, and a starry sky that would excite any astronomy enthusiast. Yet, it was devoid of people. Well, there was a figure sitting on a bench, but aside from that detail, the scene wasn''t exactly bustling with life. Victor approached the figure. With a white sheet covering its entire body, Victor couldn''t even tell what it was. Maybe it was his inner self. ''But why choose the countryside as a setting? Couldn''t it have picked a 400 square meter duplex right in the center of Paris?'' he muttered. He didn''t know if the figure was his inner self, but it sure had made a mistake with the dream setting. ''And why hide your face under a sheet?'' Victor couldn''t find any rational explanation, so he asked the figure sitting on the bench, "Why hide behind a sheet?" The figure didn''t even turn around. Victor was sure that it had heard him, but it had simply chosen to ignore him, calmly sipping from its cup while staring at the stars. ''Damn this inner self,'' Victor grumbled, feeling his patience tested. ''If that''s how it is, let''s see who''s more patient!'' he thought to himself. So, he sat on the bench after picking a nearby flower. He began plucking the petals, thinking of Experimentation. "She loves me. A little. A lot. Passionately. Madly." He tossed the flower away. He stopped because mathematically, he would land on ''not at all.'' The figure didn''t react at all. He started over with a new flower, thinking of his supervisor: "She''s crazy. A little. A lot. Completely. Madly." This time, the flower didn''t have enough petals to continue further. Victor glanced at the figure to his right. Still no movement. Victor picked another flower. "My inner self is ugly. A little. A lot. Extremely. Madly..." And as Victor was about to pluck the last petal, it fell to the ground on its own. The figure turned toward Victor. He still couldn''t see its face, shrouded in endless shadow, but he could now hear its voice. It was a melodious male voice that Victor guessed was tinged with mockery: "Shouldn''t you be thinking about your quota? - Why do you care? - The right question is, why don''t you care?" Victor furrowed his brows. ''This guy is way too arrogant! Well, maybe he''s not entirely wrong,'' he thought, while asking the question at the forefront of his mind: "Who are you?" And the man answered with the same words that Victor had used: "Why do you care?" Victor could feel the man''s smile facing him. He then asked the second question on his mind: "Why am I here?" To which the man replied: "To give you an opportunity in exchange for becoming one of my test subjects." Victor thought the man would give further explanations, but he did not. The world shook. It seemed it was time for Victor to leave, as the surroundings began to collapse. He could only hear one more sentence from the man before being swallowed by the void: "Follow the rules if you wish to survive." His consciousness wavered, and he was back in Lille. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The cold, the empty alleys, and the feeling of always being cornered. It wasn''t just a feeling for Victor, who was literally leaning against a wall. The shock of the accident must have thrown him several meters, so much so that his head should have hit the sidewalk across the street. There was no one around. The driver had probably thought that Victor had died from the impact. Instead of calling the police, he chose to flee. ''Well, at least that''s one less problem,'' Victor thought, checking his condition. The driver had at least had the courtesy to leave him his wallet, phone, and backpack. Victor checked the time. 1:00 AM ''Guess I won''t be getting back by 10:30 PM,'' he muttered as he got up. His clothes were in bad shape, but honestly, one more tear wouldn''t make much difference to the sorry state they were already in. ¡®Let''s head back,¡¯ he thought, before setting off. He had to cross the road again. Victor looked right, left, then right again before darting forward and falling head first onto the road. This time, fortunately, there were no cars, but Victor had fallen due to a severe migraine. Hello host, I am the system And now, Victor was beginning to hear voices. ¡®Better get home and go to bed,¡¯ he thought as he got up for the second time in a short span. He felt that the fall had cut open his face as blood was dripping down onto the pavement, but he could only see the expanse of the damage once he got home. In front of the half-shattered mirror of his apartment, he could see the wound on his forehead: a small cut that he would have little trouble bandaging up. But as he was carefully examining his wound, the same voice echoed inside his head. It was a robotic voice devoid of any emotion. Human body: x1 - value 5 Victor didn''t know why, but he felt relieved, annoyed, worried, and curious all at once. First, relieved: "At least I''m not worth 0." Then annoyed: "And the whip earlier was worth 8 times more than me." Worried: "Why do I keep hearing this same voice in my head? Why am I even starting to believe it?" And finally, curious: "How am I supposed to sell myself to the company?" But all these questions would have to wait until tomorrow. Victor fell headfirst onto his bed before falling asleep. Tomorrow, he had to pack figurines in the morning, smile at the grandmas in the afternoon, find his car, fix it, then drive for 30 minutes to try to meet his quota and finally be on time for his job as a waiter. In short, Victor was only thinking one single thing: ¡®Can''t wait for tomorrow.¡¯ And the next day lived up to his expectations. The day started wonderfully with the packing of Barbie dolls. Then, the grandmas flocked to the checkout just after lunchtime and just before mass. Now, the problem was the car. Victor found a solution: hitchhiking. Of course, this solution was far from ideal, but he hadn''t really had any other ideas. All he had left to do was to stand by the roadside armed with a sign that had the full address of where he wanted to go written on it. He waited like this for about 30 minutes before a white minivan pulled up alongside him. Before getting in, he asked the voice in his head for reassurance: ¡®You have a self-defense mechanism, I hope.¡¯ Of course, I can sell you shovels ¡®Better than nothing, I guess,¡¯ thought Victor before sitting in the passenger seat. The driver was a man in his fifties, very nice if he hadn''t spent the entire trip giving him ambiguous looks accompanied by creepy smiles. "Damn this company," grumbled Victor, holding himself back from buying a shovel from the system. But even though the journey was unsettling, Victor arrived in front of the same house as yesterday in one piece. He waved at the man with a fake smile before running to take refuge inside the house. Once inside, he let out a deep sigh of relief. He still hadn''t solved the problem of getting back, but he would figure that out when leaving the house. Victor knew very little about the voice in his head. It called itself "system," seemed to know the value of objects, and could sell him shovels. As odd as it might seem, Victor was skeptical about all these points but was still reassured by the idea of being able to buy shovels for himself. ¡®I think I''m going mad, well, at least I¡¯m not at the level of the hotel''s head waiter or Experimentation, but it''s starting to get worrying,¡¯ he thought as he headed straight for the stairs. He had only one question since he had seen his value in the mirror last night: how much was the statue from yesterday worth. However, he immediately noticed a problem once he reached the upstairs. At the end of the hallway, the door he had closed before leaving the previous day was open. It was just a detail, but it was crucial: someone had been here. It couldn''t have been someone from the company because Experimentation had assured him that each house was assigned to only one team. He rushed into the room. The over two-meter tall cabinet at the back of the room that contained the statue he had closed yesterday seemed to have been forcefully opened, and the statue had vanished, probably taken by the mysterious visitor. The discovery saddened Victor before he remembered that the company had valued the whip more than the perfectly preserved bronze vase. So, he went down to the kitchen before grabbing a teapot that was passing by. He stared at it intensely for several seconds before a voice echoed in his head. No value. He then grabbed a wooden spoon and stared at it for nearly five seconds. No value. Victor didn''t know if he could trust the judgment of the voice in his head, but he didn''t really have any other choice. He then put the wooden spoon down and picked up a porcelain plate. No value. He glanced at the stack of about twenty plates in front of him. "Why have so many plates?" he sighed inwardly. No Value No Value No Value No Value No Value After scanning just 5 plates out of the hundred in the kitchen, the enormity of the task hit Victor like a ton of bricks. He couldn''t help but swear out loud: "Damn these rich people." He checked the time on his phone. 5:00 PM His plates would have to wait until he had finished with the appliances in the kitchen. He started with the toaster, then moved on to the microwave and any other appliance he could lay his hands on. No Value No Value No Value No Value ¡­ 5:30 PM He hadn''t found a single valuable item in the last half hour and was starting to doubt the voice in his head. "Are you sure there are valuable items in this house?" he asked the system. Of course, Host, there are exactly 1107 spread across 16 valuable items inside this house ¡®I guess the porcelain plates don''t count as valuable items,¡¯ Victor thought as he left the kitchen. He only had a few rooms left to search: the various bedrooms, the living room, and the two bathrooms. He found no valuable items in the bedrooms. 5:45 PM He found no valuable items in the living room but discovered a small music box he hadn''t noticed the night before. It was playing a soothing melody, which Victor needed since he hadn''t found a single valuable item in almost an hour. He entered the first bathroom. Used to hearing "No Value" in his head, he didn''t even react when picking up a valuable item. No Value Hairdryer: x1 - value 77 No Value He was holding a pink plastic hair dryer in his hand. ¡®So, this pink hair dryer is worth more than the whisk and vase from yesterday combined. Someone will have to explain to me one day how the company assigns value to items,¡¯ he thought to himself. He then picked up a small perfume bottle with no discernible brand on it and¡­ Perfume: x1 - value 104 He had almost doubled his quota with just these last two items. He searched the second bathroom a few steps away, but without success. 6:00 PM He would have liked to search the chests, but he didn''t have time. It would already be a miracle if he managed to find a kind soul to take him on time for his first shift. So, he went back downstairs. The soft melody from the music box in the living room had taken on an ominous tone, probably due to a malfunction. In any case, Victor left the house, this time closing the front door behind him, and came face to face with the restaurant manager in a white BMW who seemed to be waiting for him. Chapter 4 : Magnificent, independant and crazy Quota 70/130 - Last day "This woman is absolutely insane!" Victor internally screamed as they narrowly missed another car by mere inches. He diverted his gaze from the road to look anxiously at the driver. Dressed elegantly in a suit, she no doubt carried an air of gracefulness, yet Victor was convinced he had never encountered a woman as crazy as her in his entire life. They had left the house a few minutes ago, and she hadn''t uttered a single word since. Victor had no objection to the silence, but he also favored the idea of staying alive. Despite her beauty, independence, and any other compliment one might think of, she was undeniably reckless. Under normal circumstances, Victor might have suggested her to seek psychological help or even go on a relaxing retreat at a spa, but he was far too preoccupied with clinging onto his life to entertain such thoughts. After all, they were on the ring road during rush hour, being more over 200 km/h than under. And the driver seemed to prefer slaloming through the traffic over braking, a tactic that Victor found more terrifying than dealing with the slow-moving elderly of the early afternoon. Yet, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly: ¡®This car is super cool.¡¯ He would, however, withhold any praise for the driving skills of his boss, who was navigating through traffic with undeniable grace but had seemingly decided to risk both their lives just to avoid being late for the first service. ¡®Damn this woman,¡¯ Victor muttered, gripping the handle beside him with all his might. Salvation seemed imminent when Victor heard police sirens behind them. But just as he braced himself for a high-speed chase, his manager calmly pulled over to the emergency lane. From her suit, she retrieved a wallet, and from that wallet, a striking red license. Victor had a bad feeling, sensing that she might just get away with her recklessness. As the police car stopped behind them and an officer approached the driver''s side window, his eyes widened upon seeing the driver. ¡®Don''t get fooled brother! This woman is crazy!¡¯ Victor internally exclaimed. But it was too late; the officer was already speaking to his manager in the softest, calmest, and kindest tone possible: "Excuse me, madam, but you have... you have exceeded the speed limit." He had stuttered a bit under her indifferent gaze. She didn''t speak, simply showing him her license without handing it over. The license, with its loud red color, featured a salamander logo and a note in black ink: Diplomatic License. ¡®Damn this woman!¡¯ Victor inwardly shouted, despair slowly sinking into his soul. The officer, upon seeing the diplomatic license, became even more polite. He checked the identification number and, after confirming everything was in order, wished them a good day and added: "Please be careful on the road, madam. People here drive like lunatics." ¡®Thank you, officer. I hope you''ll have my death on your conscience if something happens to me on the road,¡¯ Victor thought as he was leaving. He then looked at his manager with concern as she neatly put away her license and wallet back into her elegant suit, and he helplessly witnessed a nightmarish scene unfold. She slammed on the accelerator, and Victor''s head was thrust back into his seat by the sheer force of the acceleration. In no time, they were back to cruising at 200 km/h. He was trapped, waiting for death in his comfortable leather seat, which was ventilated, heated, and had a massage function. He even started to ventilate his back. ¡®If I''m going to end up in the morgue or at work, might as well arrive in the best conditions.¡¯ Victor had already resigned himself to his fate, glaring resentfully at his manager''s face so he could haunt her in his next life. Human body: x1 - value 5 ¡®Less valuable than a kitchen whisk, you''ve really outdone yourself this time, Ms. Perfect.¡¯ Sarcasm was all he had left. He rested his head against the door to gaze at the landscape. Surprisingly, it was quite relaxing¡ªif not for the constant presence of death at every turn. The engine''s rumble. Cars whizzing by as if standing still. So relaxing that Victor barely noticed the journey. Just ten minutes ago, they were on the outskirts, and now they were already in the heart of the city. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. All of it in just ten minutes. "I must have misread the time when I left," Victor thought as he saw them approaching the same traffic line as the night before. They were also approaching a Mercedes. Black. Driven by a young man in his twenties, with a witch sitting in the passenger seat. The white BMW of his boss had pulled up to the light, encroaching on the bike lane. The Mercedes'' engine roared. Perhaps the driver wanted to erase last night''s defeat, but he had made a poor judgment of his opponent. Because the white BMW blatantly ran through the first red light without stopping. It kept going as if it couldn''t brake, going through the line of red lights in mere seconds. Victor couldn''t explain why, but he felt a pang of sadness for those lights. Nonetheless, they had arrived at their destination in one piece. His boss parked directly in front of the hotel, handing the keys to the porter who had come down the stairs to welcome them. She gave Victor one last glance before entering the hotel. ¡®At least I won''t be late for the first shift,¡¯ Victor thought, checking the time. 6:10 PM He then entered the hotel himself. As he made his way to the restaurant to prepare for his shift, a voice called out to him. It was the receptionist''s voice, a man in his sixties with grey hair, embodying the quintessential grandfather: endless kindness and unshakeable goodness. Victor had never spoken to him since the old man only dealt with hotel guests. Yet, he had heard him say his name. "Excuse me, Mr. De Lafayette, but the manager would like to see you in his office." It had been years since anyone had called him by his last name. Despite his harmless elderly appearance and polite wording, his tone was authoritative. Without waiting for an answer, he gestured towards the elevator. Victor got in, and with a dull noise, the elevator started moving. In just a few seconds, he had arrived. The elevator doors opened to a vast room. There was a huge bay window offering a panoramic view of Lille, a carved wooden desk that must have cost a fortune, and a small lounge area with leather armchairs. Seated in one of them was a woman in her thirties, exuding charisma and a sharp aura. It was Victor''s first time meeting her, but he instinctively knew she was the one in charge of this hotel branch. He silently prayed. ¡®Please God, let this woman be reasonable.¡¯ She was holding a folder, but Victor couldn''t see what was written inside. "Good evening, Mr. De Lafayette, please take a seat," she announced, gesturing to the chair opposite her. He sat down. He had many questions, especially about his recent BMW ride, but before he could speak, she asked : "Why do you work for the company?" It was a simple, seemingly innocent question, yet the atmosphere had grown tense. He answered seriously, "To pay off my debts and find my father." It was the sad truth, but the woman still smiled. Maybe she already knew the answer, maybe she suspected it, or maybe she knew nothing at all. Either way, she showed no sign. She kept asking questions. "Why do you work at this hotel?" - To pay off my debts and find my father." The two questions might have seemed very different to her, but not to him. It seemed she hadn''t expected that answer, showing a flicker of surprise she instantly masked behind her smile. She pulled a sealed envelope from her folder and handed it to him. Inside the envelope was a badge, identical to those he had seen on hotel guests: a black salamander curled up on a white background. Victor was confused. ¡®Why am I receiving this?¡¯ But there was more inside the envelope. He found a plane ticket to New York and a note written in black ink : You will find your teammates there. Good luck, Victor. Now, Victor was worried. ¡®What do you mean I have to go to the other side of the world?¡¯ He glanced at the woman sitting across from him. She hadn''t shown any emotion and was just watching him with a slight smile. Victor closed the envelope and stood up. His shift wouldn''t start for another thirty minutes, but he needed time to think. He bid her farewell before slipping away. Once out of the elevator, he ignored the receptionist''s gaze and headed to the restaurant. The restaurant manager was still checking the time on her watch, waiting for 7 PM. The hotel manager must have asked her to bring him back, but Victor had no idea how she knew where he was or how she possessed a diplomatic license. ¡®And why was there a salamander on her license? It''s as if this hotel was its own country.¡¯ Victor shook his head. He should focus on more immediate problems: ¡®How am I supposed to get my car out of the impound?¡¯ It wasn''t an easy question to answer since he didn''t really have the money to pay the fine, and he couldn''t see how he could retrieve it without paying anything. He pondered this for over 30 minutes, so much so that his shift began before he could address the real issues at hand. The shift went smoothly. 10:00 PM Victor left the hotel. The same empty streets and the same gloomy weather. "At least there are no cars in sight," he thought, relieved as he looked at the road ahead. He began to cross and narrowly missed the familiar white BMW that emerged from around the corner. "Damn this road and damn this woman," he muttered as he watched the car drive away. He finally crossed the street safely and entered the company building. Experimentation was still there, behind her desk, as if she had waited all evening for him. Victor greeted her and took out the perfume bottle and hair dryer from his bag. The first sold for exactly 104, and the second for 77. Victor was pleased to have met his quota, but he was primarily looking forward to his salary. The ratio between pay and quota hadn''t been specified in the contract, so he didn¡¯t know how much he would gain. Experimentation recorded the total in a spreadsheet before turning to Victor. "A total of 251 will be paid 5000 euros. Would you like the total by transfer or in cash?" Chapter 5 : a way to become less poor Quota 0/270 - On break : 13 days left to start the quota ¡®Did I just hear 5,000 euros?¡¯ Experimentation''s voice had turned angelic to Victor''s ears. His debts were substantial enough that 5,000 euros wouldn''t clear them, but it would at least buy him some time. He finally replied to the angel waiting patiently for his answer: "Oh divine beauty, I would be grateful if you could deposit the money into my bank account." Experimentation chuckled softly before typing a few keys on her computer. Just seconds later, Victor received confirmation of the transfer on his phone. His only desire after receiving the money was to embrace the angel in front of him. But he restrained himself, thinking back to his misadventures from the day before. ¡®Don''t anger the heavens, Victor,¡¯ he admonished himself, taking a deep breath to calm down. He was still as poor as before, but he might have underestimated the salary that the Company would pay him. He had only one desire : to return to the shitty house 30 minutes from here to earn more. But before that, he still had a few questions for Experimentation. "When does my next quota start, and where should I go? - You need to start it in the next 13 days, and once you ask me for the address, you have only 4 days to get there and 3 days to complete your Quota. - Can I choose from different addresses? - No. - Can I search for more than 3 days? - No. - Can I be assisted by porters to help me remove the items? - Not unless they are members of the Company. However, if you decide to undertake a quota with teammates, the profit will be divided." ''So the letter that wants me to go to New York, wants me to give part of my due to strangers.'' Victor thought, increasingly finding the idea unpleasant. He still asked Experimentation: "Is there a branch of the company in New York?" For once, Experimentation seemed surprised by his question. She opened a compartment in her desk to pull out a world map. It was covered in different colors, sometimes enveloping cities, countries, or even places in the middle of nowhere. For example, Lille was colored green with an E symbol. The rest of France was crisscrossed by a multitude of colors, including a black zone surrounding the Maginot Line annotated with a T. Victor focused on the United States. Inside the American metropolises, different colors indicated different neighborhoods. New York had all of them except for black. Brooklyn was colored green with an E, the Bronx in yellow with a V, Manhattan in orange with an M, and finally Staten Island, in red, annotated with a D. "What do the different colors on the map mean?" he asked. - They represent jurisdiction zones. - Are there differences between these zones? - Green zones earn the least but have the most employees completing their quota. As for the other zones, the closer you get to red, the higher the salary, but also the fewer people completing their quota." ''Ah, so these ominous colors just mean fewer people complete their quota. I really wonder why.'' Victor thought, eyeing the black-marked zones on the map with curiosity. Perhaps Experimentation sensed his interest in the black zones, as she quickly added: "The salary in the black zones isn''t specified even to company members because too few people complete their quota there." ''It must surely be due to a lack of items on site.'' Victor convinced himself before losing interest in the topic and thinking back to the money. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. "Do you earn more working in green zones alone or in other zones with others? - You''ll earn approximately the same in a yellow zone, more in an orange zone, and the two should not be comparable in a red zone." That was all Victor needed to know to agree to board the plane to New York. He would have preferred to stay in France, but all the red zones were lost in the middle of nowhere. Victor felt it would be a nightmare just getting there, not to mention finding accommodation. With some luck, his trip to New York would be paid for by the person inviting him. He then looked at the flight ticket inside the envelope. April 18, 6:00 AM He checked the date on his phone. April 17, 10:30 PM Tomorrow''s wake-up would be tough. He bid farewell to Experimentation before returning to his apartment. It was only once home that Victor remembered his car was still in the impound lot. ''It can wait until my return from the States, I guess.'' Sure, the bill would likely increase, but upon his return from the land of opportunity and wealth, he would presumably be rich enough to buy the impound lot outright. With this dream in mind, Victor fell asleep. And he woke up dreaming of being able to go back to sleep. He checked the time on his phone. 4:00 AM He had an hour and a half walk to the airport. By the time he arrived, his body was bent from the lack of sleep and the cold. ''Damn this airport, they didn''t even turn on the heating!'' He glanced again at the plane ticket in his hand. He was allowed one suitcase, but he didn''t have a suitcase at his apartment, nor enough clothes to fill it. So, he had only taken his small backpack, trying to stuff it with whatever he could find in his apartment. Which meant not even enough clothes for 3 days. Victor had arrived at the airport half an hour before departure because it was his first flight, and he didn''t want to be late. He approached the security check. There weren''t many people at this hour, but Victor still watched what they were doing. They were placing their belongings in a small plastic bin that was going straight into a machine for scanning. Victor placed his small bag in a tray before passing through a scanner himself. When he came out, the entire scanner was beeping. As someone was searching him from head to toe to find the problem, Victor saw his bag take a turn and end up in the hands of a security member. It seemed that his bag also failed the scanner test. Meanwhile, the man searching Victor found the discrepancy. Victor had kept in his pocket the badge that the hotel manager had given him the day before, as he had no clue about the security rules. The man rummaging through his bag also pulled out various items : he had found forks, butter knives, a bottle of shampoo, and even a screwdriver. He was even surprised to see someone so oblivious to the rules. While he was lecturing Victor, who was merely nodding his head while thinking about the unfair treatment he was enduring, the head of security approached the scene. It was not his habit to be up so early in the morning, which made him extremely grumpy at that moment. The last thing he needed was to come across a poor soul to unleash all his frustration. And that poor soul happened to be someone inside the security checkpoint. He approached a young man who was scolding someone even younger than himself. He would normally have sided with his team member, but not after receiving a message yesterday. An important person will be coming through tomorrow morning. I hope for your sake they make it to New York without any issues. It was a threat, plain and simple, yet the supervisor wasn''t worried. He knew these people were reasonable. However, he briefly doubted it when he saw the young man in front of him trying to get through the checkpoint with more than a dozen banned items in his backpack. He glanced at the badge the man was holding before stepping forward. "Raymond, go take your break." His face might have been friendly, but his entire body emitted an aura of authority he had acquired over the years. The security officer, though confused, couldn''t refuse his superior''s command. He just shrugged and went outside to smoke. Victor was also confused. He had only dozed off for a moment, and yet the man in front of him seemed to have aged decades and was now speaking to him in a soft voice: "I''m sorry for the inconvenience, sir," he said, handing back his backpack while putting back all the items inside. He then added, "To make amends, let me escort you to your plane." Victor didn''t refuse the offer. ''It should be easier to find the plane with the help of this kind gentleman,'' he thought, looking appreciatively at the man in his fifties in front of him. The journey only lasted a few minutes. They had arrived in front of a boarding gate. The digital screen was displaying two pieces of information. Firstly, the flight destination: New York. And secondly, the boarding status: boarding completed. Victor checked the time on his phone. 5:40 AM He then read the line just below the flight''s departure time in a low voice. "Boarding ending at: 5:30 AM" He checked once more the time on his phone. 5:40 AM ''That''s unfortunate.'' He didn''t react further due to fatigue. He was about to head back to his apartment when the man beside him grabbed his arm. Without offering any explanation, he pulled out his phone and began a call. Victor could only catch a few words out of the conversation. The call lasted only 30 seconds before the man beside him hung up. And barely 30 seconds later, a flight attendant rushed to the boarding gate in a panic. Like a suitcase, Victor was passed from the man''s hands to the flight attendant''s, hearing the man whisper in his ear: "Safe travels and happy hunting, Mr. de Lafayette." ''Thank you, sir, I''ll continue my hunt for wealth just for you,'' he thought to himself as he entered the plane. The attendant led him directly to his seat under the curious gaze of the other passengers. Victor checked his seat number on his ticket. 1A He then looked at the luxurious leather chair in front of him. ''Why does everyone say it''s cramped in planes?'' His seat, like those around him, was spaced out by at least 2 meters, and he would have no trouble stretching his legs. The attendant left him to himself and went back to her duties. He settled comfortably into his chair and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He might have taken longer to fall asleep if he had known that his plane would encounter a storm or that he would have to pay for his accommodation in New York out of his own pocket. But for now, it was better to let him sleep. Because the awakening would be sudden and unexpected. Chapter 6 : It doesnt cost anything to have manners Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota ¡®Why does everyone want to see what¡¯s inside my bag ?¡¯ It was the second time in the same day. The first hadn''t even asked for his permission before searching through his belongings, while the second had at least let him open it by himself. ¡®One star for him,¡¯ Victor thought, casting an appreciative glance at the man beside him. However, this second individual had forgotten his manners. There had been no hello or please. ¡®It doesn''t cost anything to be polite, and there''s no need to rush, we have hours left on this flight.¡¯ Yet, the man seemed indifferent to Victor''s opinion. With a backpack that likely contained a parachute and a pistol in his right hand, he appeared neither concerned with his lack of manners nor intent on remaining on the flight until its destination. Victor, with pleasure, willingly opened his bag to reveal its contents, causing the man to hesitate and double-check the seat number. 1A. No mistake, he was indeed in first class. Why then, did he momentarily feel as if he was doing some second-hand trades ? Perhaps Victor pulling out a screwdriver and some dishware didn¡¯t help to relieve the man''s confusion. The man was now looking at him with bewilderment. Here was Victor, in first class, with items that shouldn''t have passed security in his bag, dressed in torn clothes, and possessing utterly useless objects. ¡®What on earth does he plan to do with those butter knives ?¡¯ the man wondered in astonishment. He himself had gone to great lengths, calling in favors and spending a fortune to board the plane with a gun and parachute. Shaking his head, the man decided, ¡®Let''s leave the contents of his bag, but take the rest.¡¯ Victor felt the cold barrel of the gun against his temple. "Empty your pockets RIGHT NOW!" the man barked. ¡®Good Lord, no need to shout,¡¯ Victor thought, irritated. He had just woken up, and the man''s yelling was getting on his nerves. He emptied his pockets, revealing a wallet containing 5 euros, a cracked five years old iPhone, and the hotel badge gleaming gently in the light. The sight of such poverty in a first-class passenger was unprecedented for the man, who looked down on Victor with disdain before taking his key card and moving on to the next victim. As Victor considered buying a shovel to avenge the insult, another man entered first class, this one wearing a small bomb that blinked and emitted a soft metallic noise. "Let¡¯s forget about it, it''s just a badge," Victor thought, settling back into his comfortable seat. His nap had been cut short, but soon, soothed by the soft ticking of the bomb, he drifted back to sleep. He didn''t wake up until they had arrived. The nearly 8-hour journey had flown by in what felt like an instant, and in such comfort that Victor had only one thought: ¡®Best means of transport ever.¡¯ The trip would have been perfect if not for the two men who had interrupted his nap. But Victor knew one couldn''t have everything in life. A flight attendant approached him. "Excuse me, sir, the plane has landed, and the police are waiting downstairs for your statement." She looked at him with admiration; he was the only passenger who had slept through the entire journey and remained calm during the robbery. ¡®No need to stare at me so intently, madam, I''m leaving your plane,¡¯ Victor grumbled while gathering his backpack. He headed for the exit without encountering a soul. As he disembarked, he was met with the spectacle of American extravagance: SWAT team members everywhere, snipers on nearby rooftops, police managing the civilians, and even a tank. ¡®Are they filming a TV show or what?¡¯ Victor pondered as he was walking down the stairs step by step. Perhaps it would have been wiser to exit with the other passengers, as SWAT team members, or perhaps members of the national football team, charged at him at full speed. "Stop, I''m not Antoine Dupont!" he exclaimed while getting tackled on the staircase steps. Only the intervention of the flight attendant saved him. "**Gentlemen, this man is just another passenger, let him go, for heaven''s sake. - And why is he coming out 10 minutes after everyone else?**" one SWAT member asked, still pinning Victor to the ground. -**Because I was watching him sleep and didn''t want to wake him,**" she confessed, blushing. ¡®What?!¡¯ was the SWAT team''s unanimous reaction. Victor, however, had a different response, mumbling into the staircase. Stolen story; please report. ¡®Why are they speaking in another language? I can¡¯t understand jack shit!¡¯ The atmosphere had turned peculiar after the woman''s sentence, but Victor was clueless about what had been said, his knowledge of the English language being limited to "Hello" and "Thank you." The SWAT team eventually lifted him up and apologized. "**Sorry.**" Victor replied with a fifty-fifty chance of being correct : "Thank you." Given the lack of reaction from those around him, his response seemed appropriate. He finally reached the bottom of the stairs. Normally, the police would have searched his and the other passengers'' belongings, but after what they had been through, it seemed inappropriate. Instead, they simply asked what had been stolen. It fell to an American policewoman in her fifties the challenging task of trying to communicate with Victor. "**Good morning, sir, I''m going to need to ask you a few questions,**" she greeted him politely. "Thank you," Victor promptly replied. ''Wrong choice,'' he thought, noticing the confusion on the policewoman''s face. The man before her seemed to be suffering from post-traumatic stress, judging by the puzzled look on his face. So, she started again, this time with a softer voice and a more patient approach : "**How long do you plan to stay in our beautiful city ?**" As she spoke, she handed him a glass of water. Victor accepted the glass of water. He didn''t know it yet, but he was already in a checkmate situation. Unaware, he still tried: "Hello." The policewoman realized that the issue wasn''t post-traumatic stress as she had thought. ''This man only knows two words of English,'' she thought, looking around for help. Unfortunately for her, none of her colleagues spoke more than two words of French and, fortunately or unfortunately for her, an air hostess who had been following Victor offered to act as a translator. The policewoman tore a sheet from her notebook and handed it to the air hostess, politely asking, "**Could you ask him to write down his name, first name, address in France, and a way to contact him, please ?**" "**No problem, ma''am,**" she replied with a slight smile. She then turned to Victor to translate: "She is asking if you could kindly write down on this paper your name, first name, your address in France, your personal phone number, and where you plan to stay during your visit. By that, she means the names of the hotels, their addresses, and the dates and times you will be there," she asked as seriously as possible. ''They really ask for a lot,'' Victor thought, looking gratefully at the air hostess who had agreed to translate for them. ''But I have no idea where I''m going to stay,'' he continued, thinking of a solution. He then asked the air hostess: "Can you ask the policewoman if I can avoid writing down all the addresses of where I plan to stay during my visit for privacy reasons and to protect my personal life?" "No problem, sir," she responded before turning to the policewoman. "**Is it possible to give me a copy of his information to facilitate his travel by overcoming the language barrier ?**" "**If that''s his wish, no problem at all miss,**" the policewoman replied, impressed by the air hostess''s willingness to help. She then turned back to Victor with a big smile. "I''m sorry, sir, but the policewoman just informed me that it''s not possible. She also specified that you need to write this information in double, one copy for the police records and the other to help the investigation. "If I have no choice, I might as well write. Thank you, ma''am, for your precious help. "No problem, sir, and with a little luck, we might even bump into each other again." ''And now what am I supposed to write? I guess I''ll stay at a hotel but which one and for how long. Let''s just write the same hotel name as the one in Lille; I''m sure they have a branch here,'' he thought as he began to write his information in two columns. It only took him a few seconds to finish. After all, he had only written four lines in each row. De la Fayette Victor 06 XX XX XX XX 135 Avenue de Xxxxx Promise Hotel of New York for an indefinite duration He gave the sheet to the air hostess, who tore it in two while Victor was distracted and stuffed one of the pieces into her pocket before handing the other to the policewoman. "**Why did he write down the hotel where he intends to stay ?**" the confused policewoman asked the air hostess. "**If you need to ask him more questions and he doesn''t answer the phone, at least you''ll know where to find him**," she seriously replied with what seemed to be flawless logic. The policewoman slowly nodded before resuming her questions: "What was stolen from him during the flight?" This time, the air hostess translated the question precisely, and Victor replied: "Just an insignificant badge. I guess it would be good if you could find it, but it''s no big deal if you can''t. You''ll easily recognize it by the black salamander on a white background." The policewoman noted all this information in her notebook. She then thanked the air hostess for her help and Victor for his time before moving away to report to the brigade chief. Victor glanced at his phone. 8:00 AM He had received a worrying message from his telephone operator. United States! A change of country and a friendly reminder from your mobile operator. With your plan: - Calls made to this country: 15.50€ per minute - Incoming calls: 7.50€ per minute - Sent text messages: 6.50€ per use - Received text messages: Free! - Internet: not included And, of course, have a great stay. Victor didn''t even know the hotel''s address, but he figured he could wait until he was out of the airport to find his way. He thanked the flight attendant before slipping away. She watched him leave with a huge smile that would have sent shivers down Victor''s spine if he had seen it. By the time he reached the exit, there were families in tears, probably reuniting for the first time in months or even years, and taxis with signs hanging above their heads. The drivers held signs inked with their clients'' names. For instance, a bald man in his fifties in a suit had "Belmont" written, a young man in his twenties seemed more interested in observing the women around than the exit, holding a "Brison" sign over his shoulder, and a woman in her thirties with red hair and captivating beauty had "Victor de la Fayette" written in exquisite calligraphy on her sign. "Huh?" was Victor''s only reaction upon seeing his name. The woman must have already had a photo of him because she approached him before he had even given his name. "**Hello.**" She spoke with a melodious voice, in perfectly comprehensible English, even to a perfect novice. He responded with: "Thank you." Chapter 7 : Why am i always getting the misfits ? Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota "Why am I so unlucky?" Victor pondered as he attempted to converse with the woman before him. They hadn''t even managed to exchange a few words before hitting the language barrier. Victor knew a couple of English words but didn''t even understand their meaning in French. Needless to say, an English conversation was out of the question, and the woman understood this instantly. She extended her hand and introduced herself: "**Shirley**." ¡®What does that even mean? Is it a greeting or her name?¡¯ Victor had no clue, but he shook her hand anyway. The woman appeared slightly disappointed, probably expecting him to kiss her hand instead. Nonetheless, she quickly recovered, pulled out her phone, and launched an instant translation app. She started typing before turning the screen toward Victor: "Hello hand, I will take your hotel." Victor shifted his gaze from the phone to look at her with suspicion. She continued typing on her phone with a slight smile: "If you''d follow me, we''ll go on my car." Victor glanced again at the woman in front of him. ¡®I hate to say it, but I''m getting the feeling this woman isn''t crazy. It must be the automatic translator acting up,¡¯ he thought as he followed her out of the airport. Surrounding them were the iconic yellow taxis of New York and their drivers trying to attract tourists amidst the general commotion. It seemed the perfect spot to park a taxi, yet the woman did not slow down. She headed towards the parking area reserved for those picking up relatives. Inside, there were all sorts of vehicles from city cars to German sedans and, of course, American pickups. They were, in fact, walking towards one of these pickups. Victor couldn''t understand how anyone could buy something so large and tall when even he, who was not short, couldn''t reach the top. But at least he felt reassured. He had had his fill of German sedans and preferred getting into something, admittedly more imposing, but with less horsepower. However, he had forgotten one detail. He was now in the United States, the land of drag racing from one traffic light to another, and the first step to winning these races was to make your opponent believe they had a chance to beat you. Americans were willing to do anything to win these races, even if it meant putting over 1000 horsepower in an ordinary pickup that had never asked for anything. Victor only had a short moment to sense the danger and consider fleeing when the engine started, as it was surprisingly two to three times louder than sports cars. But he still went in and they set off. The woman gave off the perfect impression of being civilized. She drove within the speed limit with admirable smoothness, somewhat offset by the roar of the engine. But so far, so good. The airport was outside the city, so they took the ring road. Still no issues. Victor even began to get comfortable in his seat and closed his eyes. They left the ring road and entered an avenue. And then, disaster struck. A traffic light appeared ahead of them. As Victor was resting comfortably in his seat, hell broke loose behind him. It was the sound of a demon that had been chained for far too long and was finally freed after several minutes on the road. Victor slowly opened his eyes to look pleadingly at the woman beside him. She was the human embodiment of the devil, barely containing an inhuman smirk and a demonic gaze that sent shivers down Victor''s spine. ¡®Damn this woman, damn this woman, damn this woman !¡¯ he internally screamed. He turned his head towards the demon''s prey. It was a German sedan. A black Mercedes with a young man in his twenties at the wheel and a dazzlingly beautiful woman in the passenger seat. Victor was now curious on how this man was always managing to pick his worst nightmares as opponents. After likely taking the same flight as Victor, and after getting robbed, the man had rented the same Mercedes he had in Lille only to be humiliated by the first American to come along. The man had realized that there was a problem when he heard the demonic roar of the engine of his opponent but it was too late to back down. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Victor gripped the armchairs off his seat with all his might, the sheer force of the acceleration pinning him to his seat. If the man had already lost the start-up duel against Victor''s small city car, he stood no chance against the modified pickup of the American woman. She violently shifted gears, reaching the next traffic light in seconds. Once she won the race, her face returned to its human form. She resumed her polite smile while looking amusedly at Victor with her captivating green eyes. ¡®Damn this woman,¡¯ Victor sighed, resigning himself to his fate. He had just seen about ten red-lights and probably a hundred Americans ready to race against a regular-looking pickup truck. The journey''s end was anything but comfortable for Victor, who was even starting to miss the cozy BMW of his floor manager. After what felt like an eternity, they arrived at the hotel. Despite resting throughout the plane ride, the thirty-minute car journey had completely drained him. He hopped out of the pickup and onto the ground. In front of them stood a hotel facade, eerily familiar to Victor. A valet came down the stairs to welcome them and take the monstrous vehicle a few hundred meters away. Victor began climbing the steps before noticing the woman hadn''t followed behind him. She was still at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly giving a list of instructions to the valet, who was nodding after each sentence. Only after she had ensured that the doorman had understood and memorized everything did she reluctantly hand him over the keys. She caught up with Victor waiting at the top of the stairs, and together, they entered the hotel. The decor was exactly the same as the one of the Lille¡¯s hotel, even the guests bore a striking resemblance to those in Lille, with one slight difference : their attire was equally modest, but Victor could sense that these guests were significantly wealthier. The Swiss watches on their wrists and tailored suits hinted at a step up in the customer base from one hotel to another. Yet, everything else was the same. Even the receptionist wore the exact outfit as the one in Lille. Upon entering, he had called out to them, "**Miss Johnson and Mr. De la Fayette, the manager awaits for you in his office.**" Noticing Victor''s puzzled look and presumably having been informed of his poor English level, he repeated with a perfect French accent, "Mr. De la Fayette, the hotel manager is expecting you in his office." Victor appreciated the gesture and followed Shirley into the elevator. After a brief rumble and a few seconds, they had arrived. The office was identical to the Lille one, except that the view of New York''s skyscrapers was far more captivating than Lille''s fog and rain. Several people were seated in the office : the charismatic young manager of the New York branch, a disheveled thirty-something man with keen eyes, and a young woman. Victor wouldn''t normally think that she was older than fifteen, but she was cleaning an assault rifle in her hands. "The legal age for carrying a weapon in the United States is eighteen, so she must be at least eighteen, right?" Victor was trying to reassure himself but he was not really helped by her youthful face the fact that she was wearing a schoolgirl uniform. The manager stood up to greet them, offering Miss Johnson a gentlemanly kiss on the hand and shaking Victor''s hand vigorously. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. De la Fayette. I''ve heard a lot about you." Victor wondered who could be talking of him behind his back. His mind raced through all the possibilities: his weird and introverted inner self, his old boss who was more interested in her watch than him, the Lille¡¯s hotel manager who had given him his badge, and an unknown voice in his head. Only his inner self knew about the system, so it must have been him who spilled the beans. "Watch your back if I ever catch you one day," he thought, maintaining a polite smile. The manager, skilled at reading facial expressions, saw through him, "It seems Mr. De la Fayette doesn''t like being the center of attention. - Don''t worry, my old friend loves to play tricks on me," Victor replied while thinking of him beating up his inner self with a shovel. The manager, while surprised by the term "old friend," still hid his emotions behind a smile and invited them to sit. "Now that you''re here, let me explain why you were invited. In ten days, you''ll visit Dine on Staten Island to complete your second quota. You have ten days to get acquainted. I''ll be available if you have any questions. Remember, there''s a reason I chose you for this mission, so I hope you won''t disappoint me." The warning was clear, but no one in the room took it seriously. The young girl was still cleaning her rifle, the redhead was still more interested in retrieving her pickup than the current conversation, the man had a "try me" look on his face, and Victor was looking at the scene with confusion. ¡®Why do I always end up with the misfits ?¡¯ Despite their quirks, there was no doubt about their capabilities. Yet, they weren''t heading into a war zone, or so Victor thought. But more pressing than any of that, Victor had a crucial question for the hotel manager. "Can I stay at the hotel during the job ? - Of course, just keep your badge with you for identity verification. - About that... my badge was stolen on the plane." All eyes in the room turned to him, each silently asking, ¡®Who would dare?¡¯ Chapter 8 : A race to the badge Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota The man had finally arrived in New York. The plane ride had been rather stressful, the parachute escape had gone wonderfully, and the few hours'' drive to his destination had been punctuated by the distant sound of police sirens that seemed to always be on his tail. But he had finally arrived without a single patrol car behind him. He kept driving his van toward Manhattan before parking it in front of a house with an imposing facade. The house in front of him was undoubtedly worth millions of dollars, not to mention the several luxury cars in front of the entrance. He got out of his van with several shoulder bags and a leather briefcase in hand, and a valet came to meet him. "Please follow me, Sir is waiting for you by the pool." He didn''t even bother to greet him or wait for him. He had already returned inside the house as quickly as he had come. The interior of the mansion was crafted from white marble, and the crystal chandeliers enhanced its classical vibe. There were certainly some modern elements, like the robotic cookers in the kitchen or the huge flat-screen on the living room wall, but the rest was designed to evoke the extravagant homes of the 19th century. The exterior was not the same story. The owner must have been pure English because the lawn appeared to be cut every morning without fail. He was sitting by his pool on a folding chair, a beauty mask on his face, seemingly in the midst of a relaxation session. Two women in swimsuits were massaging his feet. Unfortunately for him, his little nap was about to end. Because business matters were more important than rest. "Melissa, Scarlet, could you help me take off my mask? I wouldn''t want to keep my guest waiting too long." The two women were probably professionals. They skillfully removed the mask before slipping away from the scene. "It''s very pleasant to enjoy the sun. Please take a chair and join me, Mr. Omega." The man codenamed Omega took a chair and sat next to him. Now that his beauty mask was removed, his face was clearly visible. It was the face of a man in his fifties, remarkably well-preserved, with salt-and-pepper hair that must have made him incredibly charming to women of his age. Omega had worked with him several times before to move his loot and knew now why this man was so effective at his job. This man was trustworthy and honest, a quality few of his ilk could boast, making him well-liked by everyone he met, regardless of their background. He could sell jewels to politicians, high-tech equipment to the nouveau riche, cars to middle-class families, or even football balls to underprivileged kids. The man must have been responsible for selling nearly 50% of all stolen items in New York from his folding chair by the pool. But even with the immense profits he was making, he was starting to have problems with the FBI, which had found a trace of his involvement in a case over ten years old. He could have pressured politicians with his lobby or even blackmailed them to stall the case. He could have also hired hitmen to eliminate the evidence and its bearers, but he did not want to get to that point. So, he simply hired mercenaries to hijack an entire plane while the evidence of his case was "secretly" being transported from Lille, where Interpol had taken an interest, to New York. The haul from the heist probably wouldn''t bring in much, but that had never been the point of the operation. He had already secured the briefcase next to Omega, and the rest would be a bonus. He began by opening the first bag. The bag contained valuables stolen from passengers in economy class, mostly jewelry because it was the easiest to move and most profitable relative to its weight. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Most of it was of poor quality, so after a brief moment of thought, the man gave Omega a price: "$50,000." It was a fair price that Omega couldn''t refuse. "Deal," he said before shaking his hand to formalize the agreement. They had been partly financed for the heist by the man before him, but Omega and his crew had a portion to regain before becoming profitable. He handed the man a second bag, this one containing the haul from business class. There were far fewer people in business class, but Omega felt his earnings would be higher than those from economy. The man opened the bag. Inside, there were mostly jewels again, but also various high-tech devices. Omega and his men had taken anything that seemed valuable, and it had paid off. "$250,000." The jewelry was of superior quality, able to fetch around $150,000, while one of the high-tech gadgets was a prototype that could easily sell for $80,000. The price was fair, and Om¨¦ga accepted the offer with a broad smile. They were already profitable with this second bag, so anything from the last one was just a bonus. Opening the third and final bag, he anticipated high-value items inside and began removing them one by one. The first item was a stunning necklace adorned with multiple small diamonds, meticulously appraised by the man using a magnifying glass and a small scale provided by his valet. After giving his assessment, he moved on to the next item, declaring, "300,000 dollars." This necklace seemed unique, as none of the following items exceeded $100,000. They had robbed a commercial airliner, not a private jet, so this was somewhat expected. Nonetheless, Om¨¦ga and his crew had made enough money to afford a luxurious vacation on a tropical island. However, as the man reached the bottom of the bag and the earnings were towering up in the millions, the valet approached with a phone, playing a melodious ringtone. Knowing his master disliked being disturbed during business, but seeing the caller ID, the valet proceeded without hesitation, offering the phone on a velvet cushion. The man, visibly serious upon seeing the caller''s name, frowned and answered, "Mr. Smith speaking, how may I assist you?" - Oh it seems that you haven''t fully explored your loot William. Please, continue as if I''m not here." The caller was a young man well-known to him but his voice had a hinge of mockery. "Are you talking about the briefcase?" This time, the voice was filled with anger and impatience. "Why would I give a shit about that briefcase?! I wouldn¡¯t give a fuck of your issues with the law or anything else happening in your life!" The voice shouted the last sentence with so much force that even Omega could hear it from several meters away. The man''s voice softened, barely masking his anger. "Could you please do me the favor, William, of opening the damn bag containing what you stole from first class and tell me what''s inside?" William searched the entire bag, but nothing stood out. He didn''t understand why the man would call him over a jewelry matter. In a trembling voice, he replied: "I see nothing in the bag that would make you this angry. Unless you gave a piece of jewelry to a woman on the plane as a token of your love." His voice grew quieter as he spoke, sensing something was amiss. Indeed, the man on the phone was too calm, eerily calm. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the man''s response to William''s second sentence was too much. Instead of yelling at William, his tone took on a melodiously sinister edge. "Your men robbed one of the guests I invited to New York. Do you know what they stole? You don''t know. They took his badge, and the fact is, the person who gave it to him was very special. You know how much these ''special'' people care about their image. So, I hope for your sake that the men you hired to retrieve your briefcase haven''t lost or mistakenly thrown it away. If you''re not at the hotel by 9 PM, I will need to send a letter. Good luck, William." The call ended. The man turned to Omega, his face full of reproach and anger. He had a bone to pick with him once they got out of this mess, but for now, he needed to find that badge ASAP. "You stole a badge, a black salamander on a white background. Where is it?" Omega was under pressure. He had stolen the badge because it seemed the only thing of value that the man owned, but after leaving the plane, they had to sort out the more valuable items to take to the man for appraisal and bury the rest in the forest for later retrieval. If they went back now, they risked being caught by the police scouring the area where they could have parachuted. But William didn''t seem to care. With nearly a two-hour drive at full speed, they had no chance of retrieving the badge by 9 PM if they showed the slightest caution or hesitation. They had to leave now. The valet pulled out a gray Mercedes from the garage. It seemed modified for long distances with its extra fuel tank in the trunk and about twenty high-tech gadgets near the driver to track and avoid police cars, radars, and even helicopters. The valet took the wheel, with Omega and William in the back seat. The car also seemed to have undergone some engine and chassis enhancements, as they left the metropolis in just a few minutes. Unknown to them, a certain flight attendant had received information from a certain hotel, giving her more than an hour''s head start on the location of a certain parachute drop. For, if the police were to stop the modified, speeding car of a certain William Smith, there was still little chance they would stop the ordinary pickup of a regular flight attendant. As the race unfolded in the shadows, Victor was still at the hotel. Shirley had already left to retrieve her pick-up, which she presumably missed, while the dark and mysterious man had vanished without a trace. Now, only Victor and the young woman remained, the latter cradling her weapon in her arms as one might a teddy bear. Beside her lay a massive case designed to house the weapon, along with an assortment of products and rags she had used to clean it. As Victor began to drift off to sleep, the hotel door swung open to reveal Shirley, brandishing the keys of a new vehicle. "Hey Victor, how about a little tour around the city?" she asked with her trademark beaming smile. Before he could politely decline, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the exit. ''At least it won''t be in her demonic pick-up,'' Victor thought as they passed through the doorway. However, what awaited them at the bottom of the stairs was not a pick-up, but a monster truck standing nearly 4 meters tall. "Don''t worry, Victor, I''ve fitted it with headlights and turn signals so we can drive it around New York legally! Let''s go, I''m sure it''ll be an adventure!" Chapter 9 : A little city tour Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota ¡®And now there''s a traffic jam, just what we needed,¡¯ Victor thought to himself as he looked at the traffic ahead. If he thought traffic jams in Lille were bad, the ones in New York were like facing the final boss. But unlike in Lille, he could at least enjoy the view here. Victor had to admit, riding in a monster truck had its perks for that. At four meters off the ground, it was hard to find any vehicle in the heart of New York tall enough to block their view of the endless line of cars ahead. ¡®Should I be happy that I can see we''re in for hours more of this? Or would I have preferred to live in hope that it would all be over soon?¡¯ Victor would never find out, as the monster truck didn''t care about his opinions or philosophical questions. He turned his gaze away from the traffic, which threatened to sink him into a deep depression, to look at Shirley. She, a speed and adrenaline junkie, seemed unfazed by the endless wait ahead. "**Look Victor, we can see the Statue of Liberty!**" she said while pointing a finger to their right. Victor couldn¡¯t understand a word she said, but he followed her gaze. Far behind the traffic stood a green statue about a hundred meters tall¡ªa representation of a woman with a crown on her head, a book in one hand, and some sort of torch in the other. Most importantly, Victor had no idea who or what it was. "Must be like with the Romans: an American empress from before Christ who wanted a statue at her effigy," Victor thought. He only knew of one American building and hoped they''d get to see it today. After more than three hours of being stuck in traffic, Victor had to accept that he wouldn''t get to see it that day. They''d seen skyscrapers touching the sky, drivers expressing their anger through their windows, and white marble buildings that filled him with so much hope. But he hadn''t seen the White House after more than three hours on the road. Victor didn''t know where it was hiding, but he would find it. ¡®And when I find it, well... I''ll have found it.¡¯ It''s not like he could go inside, so he''d content himself with observing and taunting it from outside the fence. ¡®Sounds good to me,¡¯ he thought, picturing the scene. Even if he hadn''t seen THE American building, he still enjoyed their little city tour. He turned to Shirley to thank her in English. "Hello." She replied with a charming smile, and kept driving. They were heading back to the hotel at a leisurely pace when a siren sounded behind them. Shirley didn''t react, as if the police car following them wasn''t there for them. But she had to face reality when one of the officers rolled down his window and ordered them to stop using a megaphone. The monster truck pulled over with two of its wheels on the sidewalk. The police car stopped behind them, and a young man in his twenties got out. Shirley had already prepared her vehicle''s documents and her own for the check. The young officer approached their vehicle. He would have liked to come up to their window like in the movies, but the size of the monster truck shattered that dream. He settled for staying at the bottom of the steps. "**Routine check, please step out of the vehicle,**" he asked them with a strong Texan accent. Shirley turned to Victor. "**You can stay inside, I''ll handle this,**" she told him before opening her door and getting out. But Shirley seemed to have forgotten in the moment that Victor wouldn''t understand a word she said. ''To get out or not to get out.'' Honestly, he had no idea. He took a coin out of his coat pocket. ''Heads I get out, tails I stay in.'' He tossed the coin, which landed on his palm with a dull thud. Heads. Victor sighed and pushed open his door to step outside. From atop his monster truck, he had already been able to smell the gasoline, but now he could also smell the cold tobacco scent. Circling the vehicle, he noticed Shirley cheerfully answering a young police officer''s inquiries about her monster truck, while the officer looked at her with an unmistakable glint of lust in his eyes. His smile was unsettling as he said, ¡°**You know, miss, driving such vehicles is dangerous for others. The slightest crash could mean certain death.** - **Don''t worry, officer, I drive carefully and regularly change my brakes. If this check is over, may we leave?**¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. The officer didn''t want to let his target slip away so easily, but he didn''t have much of a choice. The vehicle was perfectly legal, and everything was in order. Searching for any excuse to make her stay, he, unfortunately for him, noticed Victor. Victor, who was giving him a strange look because he reeked of tobacco¡ªa scent Victor loathed. Victor, with his torn clothes, that still somehow managed to captivate with his model-like face and mysterious aura. Victor, in essence, became the perfect distraction for the young officer. ¡°**You there, show me your papers.**¡± Victor ignored him since he couldn''t understand a word, but Shirley didn''t. Her face remained smiling, but her eyes had hardened. She had tolerated the officer''s control and attitude because she simply didn''t care, but she wouldn''t let her guest be harassed. ¡°**I''d like to know the reason for your request.** - **Every American citizen must have their papers in proper order. It shouldn¡¯t bother you if I have to detain what appears to be an illegal immigrant, am I wrong? If he''s your friend, you can, of course, come to the station so we can sort this out before he''s sent back to his country.**¡± With those words, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Victor, who until now had been peacefully enjoying the sun on his back, felt the atmosphere cool down. He looked up to the sky. ¡®Not a cloud or a breeze. It¡¯s always magical how the temperature can change at any moment. Someone should give that poor sun some sugar. Working all year round, it must be hypoglycemic.¡¯ Victor snapped back to the dire scene unfolding before him. Shirley was assaulting the young officer. In truth, the assault on him was over since he was already lying unconscious on the ground, but she was now dealing with his colleague who had emerged from the car to assist him. Her face bore the same demonic expression as inside the pickup, but without the sadism. Instead, she looked like the grim reaper, cold and calculated, executing her task. Victor wasn''t sure how to react since he had several options. He could try to separate them, but he wasn''t too keen on stepping between the devil and her prey. He could cheer on Shirley as if watching a wrestling match, though the more he thought about it, the more counterproductive it seemed. Or, he could flee the crime scene. And that''s exactly what he did, running through the streets of New York as far away as possible, unaware of the chaos he left behind. Next to the monster truck after a few minutes laid the unconscious bodies of about a dozen police officers. The streets had been closed off around the scene, and a SWAT vehicle had arrived. The woman at the center of this outburst of violence stood immobile, her characteristic smile replaced by a disgusted grimace, her brows furrowed as she surveyed her surroundings. She had been so focused on the fight that someone had managed to snatch Victor right from behind her. She turned to face about twenty officers advancing on her, guns drawn. Their colleagues on the ground hadn''t taken such precautions, and they wouldn''t make the same mistake. ¡°Hands behind your head and face to the ground!¡± The command was authoritative, tinged with apprehension. Contrary to the officers¡¯ expectations, Shirley simply smiled at them before lying down on the ground. An officer approached and handcuffed her. The tension was brief and didn¡¯t even require SWAT''s intervention. Shirley surrendered, and a police car took her to the nearest station. They placed her in an empty cell, but she wouldn¡¯t be alone for long. Three people were to be transferred there for a story so unbelievable it might seem like the start of a joke. It¡¯s the tale of a multi-millionaire dealer, one of his henchmen, and a flight attendant who had returned to the crime scene to retrieve a forgotten badge and incredibly, they couldn''t even find it. But to tell this joke, inspired by true events, we must go back a few hours to the middle of nowhere. 5:00 PM In the middle of nowhere, a few hours from New York. Commander Anderson had arrived with a significant part of his department deep in the forest. Their mission was to meticulously search the area for any traces of the plane robbers who had passed through hours earlier. With a bit of luck, they hadn''t left the area yet, but Anderson didn''t count on luck. He knew from the evidence that he was dealing with professionals who didn''t leave anything to chance in their plans. That¡¯s why he was all the more surprised when one of his lieutenants came to inform him that two cars were approaching the area. ¡®What¡¯s going on ?¡¯ he wondered as he stepped out of the command tent. There were barely ten cars a day that passed this way. It was quite the coincidence that two cars were approaching this remote forest. For now, just a coincidence. Anderson approached the first car. It was an ordinary compact car, driven by a young woman dressed as a flight attendant. ¡°What brings you here, miss? - Oh, I came because I received a tip that I wanted to share with the police about this morning''s flight robbery. - And what is this tip you received?¡± he asked, skeptically. - That the loot was at a location someone sent to me in a message.¡± Anderson asked two of his men to follow her into the forest before heading to the second car. It was a gray German sedan with a man driving and two others in the back seat. ¡°What brings you gentlemen here?¡± One of the men in the back answered. - "We came because we received information about the location of the loot. We wanted to give it to you in person rather than over the phone as it seemed safer.¡± This time, Anderson asked them to lead them to the location they had received. After more than half an hour''s walk, they arrived in a clearing. There were no traces around, but there were already three people on the scene, including a flight attendant and two policemen. They were in the process of digging up several military bags from under a thin layer of earth. Anderson approached and opened them. Inside were some of the stolen goods, but only items of lesser value. Among other things, Anderson had received a direct order from his superior to recover a necklace worth several hundred thousand dollars that had been stolen during the flight. He poured out the contents of the bag onto the ground. No necklace. He turned to face his informers. The flight attendant looked disappointed, while the three men turned pale. No badge. Chapter 10 : Good accounts make good friends Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota ¡®I think I''m truly lost.¡¯ That was the harsh reality Victor faced as he arrived at yet another crossroad. It was likely a historically significant junction, a key part of New York''s intricate road network, yet just another crossroad. The same red lights, the same building on either side, and the same bitter drivers in the middle of the road. It was identical to the last ten he''d encountered, and , unwillingly, Victor was becoming an expert in New York crossroads. He wasn''t walking in circles, and that was what worried him the most. In this city, there seemed to be no way to orient oneself or find the way back to his hotel. Victor had tried asking pedestrians for directions, but between their indifference and the language barrier, his hopes were crushed. Everyone was in such a hurry that no one bothered to use their phone to translate his words. They just wished him luck and moved on with a sense of duty fulfilled. But Victor had never felt more lost in his life. Like navigating in a maze, he initially tried turning right at every intersection but soon realized that it was a dumb idea after circling the same block three times. From that moment on, he decided to go straight ahead. Always straight ahead. At least that way, he wouldn¡¯t backtrack. However, a flaw in his plan emerged as he neared New York''s Chinatown. He had reached a new crossroad. To his right and left, roads¡ªas expected of any good intersection. But directly ahead stood a building, boldly blocking his "straight ahead" path like an immovable obstacle. Victor could have turned back, but he hadn''t gone through all this trouble just to give up. He needed to move forward. Fortunately, in his misfortune, there was a narrow pedestrian alley straight ahead that cut between the buildings. It probably served as a way to enter the depths of Chinatown, but Victor headed down it with relief. After all, it was the only way to keep going straight. Night had already fallen. The alley was deserted, lit only by the dim yellow light of a few Chinese lanterns. Yet, Victor was pleased with the change of scenery. It was quiet in his little alley, free from the noise of motorists and the smell of gasoline. He did, however, have to tolerate cigarette butts and garbage on the sides of his path. Aside from that, the experience wasn''t unpleasant for Victor. Still, he began to wonder if this seemingly harmless alley had an end. He had been walking for over thirty minutes with no exit in sight. Just as he started to lose hope and ponder whether he should abandon his principles and turn at the next intersection, Victor saw a light at the end of the tunnel. At the end of the alley, there wasn''t an exit from Chinatown, but what appeared to be a bar. He had been deceived by the bright white light of its sign illuminating the surroundings. Victor opened the door and entered. The bar was not very busy, with just a few people sitting at the bar, drinking in silence. He had resigned himself. He wouldn¡¯t be able to keep going straight, but he wanted to, at least, try asking for directions from the people inside. Perhaps he''d have better luck getting help if those he asked couldn''t simply walk away. As soon as he entered the bar, he controlled not only the entrance but also their only exit. They were trapped, and he could now ask his questions. He approached his first target, an elderly Asian man with a frail appearance. ¡®He probably doesn''t even own a phone. Better leave the elderly in peace,¡¯ Victor thought. He turned his attention to a woman in her thirties. She had long, jet-black hair tied up in a bun and legs that seemed to never end. She was wearing a short skirt, so it was no surprise that her legs stood out so much, but Victor was still astonished. "At this rate, those aren''t just legs; they''re stilts¡ªno, not just stilts, they''re vaulting poles!" Victor exclaimed internally. He had only one question upon seeing their length: "How does she manage to stand?" The woman must have noticed the curiosity she had sparked in the young man who had just entered a few moments ago and gestured for him to sit beside her. "Hello there, handsome." Victor started his charades. He first formed a square with his hands before adding a roof to his creation. "That should be enough for her to get the hotel concept," thought Victor as he continued his act. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. He then pointed to himself and then to the imaginary blueprint of his hotel. "Victor phone home." He had uttered that last phrase hoping she would use her phone to translate his words. The woman chuckled lightly, her laughter melodious. "You''re quite eager to go to my place without even saying hello, but I like that." She extended her hand¡ªwhite, pristine, seemingly a symbol of innocence¡ªand Victor took it in a handshake. Just then, a man entered through the door that presumably led to the back room. He was an Asian man in his thirties, dressed entirely in black. He had the same style as Victor but with a slight difference: the man seemed more like he was stacking corpses than being one like Victor. Victor felt the already cool evening air turn icy. ¡®No need to be a walking air conditioner,¡¯ Victor thought as the man was approaching. The man was not alone; he was flanked by two hulking Asian guards. ¡®Where did my kung fu fighters go? These two must be traitors to China with their sumo wrestler builds.¡¯ As Victor lamented the loss of Chinese martial arts, the man and his bodyguards reached him. The woman looked at the man with a provocative smile, still holding Victor''s hand. It wasn''t that Victor wanted to keep holding her hand, but he didn''t really have a choice. ¡®Let me go, damn woman !¡¯ he cried internally. He struggled to free his hand, which the woman clung to tightly. Victor met the man''s gaze and sensed his time was running short. ¡®Damn this woman, damn this woman, damn this woman !¡¯ No matter how hard he pulled, her grip wouldn''t budge an inch. He cast a desperate glance at the woman as a plea for help, to which she responded with a slight smile and a provocative remark : "**Don''t worry babes, I will protect you.**" Victor sensed the provocative tone without understanding the reassurance she was trying to convey. ¡®I''m so dead,¡¯ Victor thought as he slumped on his stool. After comforting Victor, she turned to the man: "**If you touch a single hair of his head, you''ll have a taste of my family¡¯s power.**" Before the man could respond, she rested her head on Victor''s shoulder. She was gently rubbing his face as he remained helpless. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, he felt she might be his only chance to stay alive. Yet, feeling like a circus animal was rather unpleasant. ¡®Somebody help me ! I''m being abused by this woman !¡¯ he internally screamed in despair. And the door to the bar opened. As if adjusting to the divine, brilliant light of the being who had just entered, it took him a few seconds to see the face of his savior. "What the hell is this?" Victor exclaimed. He was so surprised that he had spoken aloud. ¡®But how does she manage to walk around with her assault rifle in the middle of the city?¡¯ he wondered, eyeing the schoolgirl who had entered. As everyone in the bar probably thought the same, the young woman replied to Victor in French. Her French was rough, but understandable : "Follow me, we''re going back to the hotel." The woman holding Victor hostage had released his hand in surprise, allowing him to easily free himself. He joined the young woman at the doorstep, and before they could leave, he heard the man flanked by his bodyguards utter a phrase in Chinese. Victor didn''t really know it was Chinese, but it would have been odd if it wasn''t. The phrase must have been a curse or an insult because the schoolgirl immediately turned around with her rifle. "**Say that again and let¡¯s see what will happen,**" she said in Chinese while removing the safety from her weapon. The man probably thought she wouldn''t shoot, so he repeated his insult, adding his family name at the end to pressure the little girl. But if Victor had understood anything, it was that all the women he had met at the hotel were unreasonable. She fired a shot that passed just above the man''s head. She took out a badge. It was the same salamander, but there was a single star glistening above it. She approached the man and struck him across the face, branding his forehead with the mark of the salamander. The two bodyguards remained utterly motionless, frozen by both the sight of the badge and the assault rifle. ¡®This badge sure comes in handy. Too bad mine was stolen,¡¯ Victor sighed as they left the bar. The same scene seemed to unfold in the heart of Manhattan where a man with a neatly trimmed white beard and slicked-back white hair entered a police station. He was dressed in a tailor-made three-piece suit that gave him an air of extraordinary authority. The receptionist recognized him instantly. "It''s been a long time since you last visited us, sir. If you''d follow me, Miss Johnson is waiting in her cell." Miss Johnson was not alone in her cell. A flight attendant, William, and Omega were also locked up with her for questioning. They were the last known connection to the robbers, and the authorities were eager to trace the links, especially since William was notoriously involved in shady dealings like trafficking stolen goods. Upon reaching the cell, Shirley, with her usual cold and stoic expression, looked at the newcomer with disgust. "Father doesn''t even have time to come and get his own daughter from the station?" she asked bitterly. The man knew her anger was not directed at him, but he still attempted to explain on behalf of his boss. "Your father left a few days ago to fulfill his quota." He was careful not to mention the name of the company, so only Shirley understood. "Harrumph," was her only answer. The receptionist opened the cell and removed her handcuffs. As he was closing the cell, the man who had come for Shirley spoke again : "I am also here to retrieve the flight attendant on behalf of the hotel." He took out a badge from his pocket. Unlike the schoolgirl''s badge, which featured a star, this one seemed less effective to convince people. "I''m sorry, sir, but I can''t let you leave with her. I hope you understand that she is suspected of being involved in this morning''s robbery." "The hotel provided the location of the loot so she could retrieve an item that was stolen from a hotel member on the plane. The manager of the New York branch vouches for her and assure you that there is no link between her and the robbers. He is also ready to assist the investigation with crucial evidence if you release her." The receptionist apologized and went to call Captain Anderson. Chapter 11 : This world is full of unreasonable people Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota A phone rang on the corner of a desk in the middle of New York. It emitted a gentle opera tune that immediately caught the attention of the man standing in front of a large window. Most calls were going through his secretary¡¯s line, so it was extremely rare for this phone to ring. He locked the door before answering. The number was hidden, and he patiently awaited instructions. After a few moments, a woman''s voice was heard : ¡°The badge has been secured by one of Mr. T¡¯s men, but he now wants them to meet their quota before the agreed date.¡± - Did he specify a particular day in his request? - He wants them to start in three days. - Very well.¡± The person on the other end of the line hung up. The man unlocked his office door and returned to his view of the skyscrapers. Despite his calm and serene face, a pressing question was in his mind. ¡®I hope they have enough time to prepare.¡¯ At the same moment, another phone was ringing in a nearby building, this one belonging to Commander Anderson. He was reviewing the file of a certain William Smith when rock music interrupted him. He answered, but the caller spoke first: ¡°Sorry to bother you, sir, but a person has come asking for the release of the flight attendant. - Are you referring to Miss Hill? - Precisely, sir.¡± Anderson was taken aback. ¡®I didn¡¯t think some people could be so ballsy.¡¯ Even if he hadn¡¯t been in his position long, he hadn¡¯t even heard of something like this before. Attempting to extract someone suspected of being involved in an airplane heist required both guts and well-placed contacts. Judging by the tone of the officer on the phone, he would need to handle the situation himself. He put on his coat and adjusted it in front of a mirror. ¡®I need to buy a new coat. I haven¡¯t had time with all the paperwork from my promotion this week, but that will be my goal this weekend,¡¯ he thought before leaving his office. He walked down a flight of stairs and approached the cells. Normally, no one loitered in this area, but today seemed to be an exception. There was a young red-haired woman, an old man dressed in a way that spoke of his social status, and the officer who also served as the receptionist at the station. The flight attendant was still waiting inside the cell with William and Omega. ¡°Good evening, can someone explain to me what¡¯s happening here?¡± asked Anderson upon arriving near the two strangers. The old man smiled. ¡°You sure surprise me, Mr. Anderson, because I imagined you to be older. I mean, for someone like you with so few contacts, your promotion surprised some people.¡± His tone was calm but he had oddly emphasized the word ¡°contacts.¡± Before Anderson could grasp what he had just heard, the old man continued evenly : ¡°You need to understand that I have nothing against you, Mr. Anderson, but I know from past experiences that people like you can be unreasonable. You never lose sight of your enemies, but you never see your potential allies. You¡¯re so obsessed with following the law that you sometimes prevent yourself from doing people justice.¡± The old man paused for a few seconds to let the commander digest his words before continuing : ¡°My experience tells me you¡¯ll never accept the deal that I¡¯m about to offer, but I hope you¡¯ll prove me wrong. The organization I work for wants you to release Miss Hill, and in exchange, you¡¯ll receive crucial information about the robbers. I also wish to clarify that Miss Hill is innocent and my organization¡¯s intent is to keep her out of any legal trouble.¡± Commander Anderson answered before the old man could finish : ¡°I don¡¯t think, good sir, that the police need help from a private entity to catch this morning¡¯s robbers. Don¡¯t worry, if she¡¯s innocent, justice will find her not guilty. If there¡¯s nothing else, sir, I remind you that if you have crucial information that could advance the investigation, you¡¯re welcome to share it with the police, otherwise, the exit is right over there.¡± Both men maintained a polite smile. As the old man was leaving with Shirley, he turned back to Anderson : ¡°I forgot to say, congratulations on your promotion. I wish you well in your career.¡± With those words, he left the station. Anderson asked the receptionist : ¡°Who were that old man and that young woman ? - The man never shared with me his name, but I know he¡¯s the butler of the Johnson family, while the woman is the Johnsons¡¯ only daughter. I only know that this family is extremely influential. Every time their daughter ends up in this cell, they find overwhelming evidence against the police within hours to get her released. Now, the police just keep her here for a few hours to preserve its image before letting her go quietly. It¡¯s a sort of status quo that has existed for some time, with the police probably not wanting to alienate the Johnson family. That¡¯s all I know, Commander. - Any information on the Johnson family and their business? - None, Commander. At least, none were shared with me.¡± Anderson let him return to his work while he went back upstairs. ¡®These people really think they¡¯re above the law,¡¯ he thought as he returned to his office. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. He powered up his computer. With his clearance, he should encounter no problems in uncovering everything the police knew about the Johnson family. He typed in the search bar the keyword "Johnson" and waited for the results to appear. After a few seconds, the system prompted him for his credentials and password to continue. He entered them away from prying eyes, then came across the longest list of files in the world. There must have been millions of people in the United States named Johnson, so Anderson refined his search. He first tried to find the old man he had just spoken with. He used keywords like "old," "elderly," "wealthy," and even "butler," but without success. There were still over a hundred people just in New York matching those keywords. He couldn''t even narrow his search by location either, as he had no idea if the Johnson family was living in Manhattan, or even in New York at all. This lead seemed to be a dead end. Anderson closed his eyes to think. The old man had probably left no trace of his visit in the administrative system, but that might not be the case for the woman he was looking for. He finally opened his eyes and grabbed his phone to call the officer at the reception. "I¡¯m all ears, commander; he said once the call was answered. - What was the name of the young woman that the old man was looking for? - Let me check the records, sir," the officer replied, browsing through a large and old looking book. A few seconds passed in silence before the officer spoke again. "Shirley Johnson is the name we have on her arrest record." Anderson thanked him and ended the call. He returned to his computer and typed in "Shirley Johnson," only to find a long list of profiles. The profiles numbered in the thousands, but Anderson skillfully narrowed them down using the most distinctive trait of the woman he had seen : her hair color. With just the keyword "redhead," the list shrank to just a handful, among which he found the woman he was looking for. Name: Johnson First Name: Shirley Age: 27 years Occupation: No known profession Residence: 113 Avenue XXXX, Manhattan, New York Record: Proven innocent in 7 cases of violence against police officers and 3 times for gang-related violence. Repeated warnings for using modified pick-ups and monster-trucks on the road. Anderson raised his eyebrows at the length of her record. He hadn''t even opened the section on speeding offenses, but they seemed numerous. ¡®Let¡¯s look into her parents'' professions.¡¯ He opened her mother¡¯s profile. Nothing interesting. He then opened her father''s profile. Nothing interesting. Her father seemed to be a wealthy businessman who had made his fortune by investing in a hotel, but nothing more. The man had no criminal record and had not been suspected in any cases. He was even donating a large part of his fortune to charity and to the police department of New York to help them to maintain their proper functioning. He had always paid his taxes and seemed not to be involved in any lobbying. This file was portraying him as a model citizen, perhaps even excessively so. Anderson picked up his phone to call someone at the headquarters. His gut told him something was off with the file, and he trusted his instincts. A voice answered, the jovial tone of a man ringing through: "It''s been a while since you called, Thomas. I hit 200 miles per hour with my bike on the freeway the other day. Thought it''d be empty at 1 AM, but the cops chased me down and... - You know we''re both police officers, right?" Thomas cut him off, exasperated. - Specialist in classified information management. I won''t bore you with the story since you must have called for a good reason, but this cop yesterday was crazy ! She chased me down across a few hundred miles and eventually caught up because my bike ran out of fuel. But on the trip back to New York, she ran out of gas too in the middle of the journey and nowhere, so she handcuffed me to a radiator in a motel room nearby while she slept soundly on the bed. You should''ve seen me coming back home, exhausted, plus my boss yelled at me as soon as I was back to work. All I want now is to get back home, eat a pizza or two and sleep. They also seized my bike last night, need to sort that out this week... - Can you do me a favor?" Thomas cut in. - Sure, if you come over Sunday to watch the Giants versus Commanders match with the homies." His tone remained cheerful yet took on a note of seriousness, knowing the information Thomas was about to ask for would definitely exceed his clearance and could cost them both their jobs. - I''ll be there Sunday before the game starts. I need information on someone named Simon Johnson." A long silence followed. "Sorry, but I can''t help you," was his friend only reply before hanging up. There was no hesitation in his voice, no room for doubt, no chance of changing his mind. As Thomas wondered what he had just gotten into, he received another call. ''Why on earth would the New York Police Department Chief want to call me?'' he thought before answering. At the other end of Manhattan, a young woman was making a call in the company of Victor and a semi-automatic assault rifle. They were standing before an electric gate that opened after she made her call. A woman in her fifties approached them. She had small almond-shaped eyes and long brown hair. Her face was marked with wrinkles she didn''t seem to try to hide, and she wore a warm smile on her lips. She seemed different from the unreasonable women Victor had met in recent days. ''She didn''t react to the rifle, but other than that, everything seems alright,'' Victor thought, eyeing her suspiciously. Surprisingly, she was speaking in native French. "You shouldn''t be coming home so late, Olivia. You know that even with a fake gun, these alleys aren''t safe with all those irrational people hanging around," she gently scolded. ¡®I don''t think, madam, that her weapon is fake, nor that she''s part of our group of reasonable people,¡¯ he muttered, eyeing Olivia. When she caught his probing gaze, she had only one response. She raised the barrel of her gun towards Victor with a look that said, "You''ll see just how unreasonable I can be if you tell her the truth." This earned her another lecture from the woman. "Since when do you point your gun, even a fake one, at a guest? I¡¯m saying all of this, but I forgot to introduce myself." She approached Victor to kiss him on both cheeks. "Pleased to meet you, young man. I am Nathalie Martin, and I run this orphanage." Victor was puzzled to find himself in front of an orphanage, but Amanda misunderstood. She repeated her statement, but this time in a broken English. "**Hello young man, I am Nathalie Martin and I run this place.**" Olivia stepped in to save the situation. "He speaks French." Nathalie turned towards Olivia, who was avoiding her gaze. "Couldn''t you have spoke earlier? He must have heard my terrible English!" ¡®Yes, madam, I heard it, but I didn''t understand a word, so I''m not sure I can mock it.¡¯ She took a deep breath before regaining her welcoming smile. She invited them to follow her inside. "We were just about to start dinner, so you can join us," she told them once they were inside. Victor would never say no to a free meal. They entered a small canteen. In the middle of the room, a table was surrounded by about ten young children ranging in age from five to fifteen, each with their own distinct personality. However, they all had the same reaction upon seeing Olivia enter the room. "Big sister! Big sister!" The youngest ones even asked eagerly: "Big sister, can you tell us one of your stories about killing bad guys in the Middle East?" Chapter 12 : A childrens story Quota 0/270 - On hold : 12 days left to start the quota (Only 3 days left to meet Mister T. deadline) Once upon a time, in the heart of the Afghan desert, there was a princess who could speak to firearms. She had been born with this unique ability but only discovered it when she was five years old. Life was peaceful and filled with her parents'' love until tragedy struck. One day, on her way home from school, she encountered her first gun¡ªan AK-74 with an extended 75-round magazine. The gun spoke to her: "What are you doing out here all alone, young child?" Surprised, the young girl could only stare. "You can talk?" she asked. "Of course I can talk!" the gun replied. Her mouth formed an ''O'' of astonishment before she answered the original question. "My parents are inside the house," she told the gun, pointing with her little finger towards the distance. "Could you pick me up to make me feel less lonely?" the gun on the ground asked her. "Of course!" She continued on her way, the gun as tall as her standing over her shoulder . As they walked under the scorching desert sun for several minutes, the girl stopped to inform her new friend, "Just over that hill is my house!" They reached the top of the hill, and the AK-74 asked in surprise, "Why can''t I see your house?" There was no trace of life around, as if the sand had swallowed everything. The heat made it seem like a mirage, but a storm had indeed passed through. Nothing remained except for a few scattered weapons lying on the ground. The girl wanted to take them but didn¡¯t have the strength. She asked one of them, "Where is my house? Where are my parents?" It was a rocket launcher, an RPG-7 with a hoarse voice, "They have been taken far from here, carried by the wind." "Like angels?" "There are no angels in this world, my child, only power, money, and weapons." ''That¡¯s a strange moral for a children¡¯s story,'' Victor thought before diving back into the story. The girl headed back towards the village with the AK-74 slung across her and dragging the RPG-7 behind her. After walking for over 30 minutes, she reached the village entrance. Men, women, and her classmates were laying peacefully on the ground. It seemed to young child that they were sleeping. "This is¡­ morbid. Is this really a story for children?" The only people awake were holding weapons. One of them approached her. "You should shoot, my child," she said. So, the girl fired three bullets before the man in front of her fell asleep. She continued on her journey, asking the weapons if they had seen her parents and putting their holders to sleep. After a few minutes, her 75 bullets'' magazine was empty and no one was awake in the entire village. Suddenly, the sound of an engine was heard in the distance. An all-terrain vehicle was approaching with new weapons to talk to. The girl lifted the rocket launcher and fired her only munition. "Wow, it''s like the sun," she exclaimed, watching the fireball. She approached one of the surviving weapons to ask, "Do you know where my parents are?" "Dead," it replied. The end. ¡®What?¡¯ The children did not seem surprised by the abrupt ending of the story : it must have been Olivia''s trademark. They were even pleading with their eyes for her to tell another one. Victor turned to Nathalie to see her reaction. She was beaming at the sight of the children in her orphanage being happy. She seemed to follow the philosophy: "As long as it pleases the children, it doesn¡¯t really matter which story she tells." Victor didn¡¯t know it, but today¡¯s tale was soft compared to other stories she had narrated to the children. After promising to return the next day with a new story, Olivia and Victor left the orphanage. Nathalie hadn¡¯t joined them because she needed to make sure the children were tucked into bed. They found themselves alone, with only the coolness of the late evening to accompany them. Victor checked the time on his phone. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. 9:47 PM Olivia, of course, had not forgotten to bring her weapon. It wasn''t an AK-74, but Victor asked her anyway: "Can you talk to guns?" - Do I look like an Afghan girl?" Victor stared at her for a long moment. Pale skin, blond hair, and azure blue eyes. "I guess not, but I don¡¯t really know what Afghan girls look like," he finally replied, scratching his head. ¡®She''s got a point, but I need to stay on guard. At any moment, she might show up tomorrow morning with a rocket launcher in one of her hand.¡¯ Olivia had pulled out her phone to make a call. Just a few minutes after she had ended the call, a German sedan pulled up beside them. The driver appeared to be a hotel employee, judging by his uniform. ¡®I didn¡¯t know the hotel offered a chauffeur service,¡¯ thought Victor, reassured to be in the hands of a professional. Victor climbed into the back seat with Olivia, and the driver set off. His driving was smooth and soothing, a comfort to Victor after the travels he¡¯d suffered recently. As he closed his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, Olivia spoke in English to the driver: "**I¡¯d like to be at the hotel by 10 PM.**" The man checked the time on the central screen. 9:54 PM It was going to be tight, but the man couldn¡¯t really say no. He simply answered, ¡°Very well, madam,¡± before slamming down the accelerator. Victor only felt the pace change when the driver drifted the car at an intersection. He was thrown against the window, his eyes filled with terror as he realized they had just run a red light. ¡®It¡¯s a trap!¡¯ he exclaimed, reminding himself never to trust anyone he met. They arrived after a wild ride just seconds before 10 PM struck. The chauffeur opened the door for them with a big, friendly smile. ¡®Don¡¯t try that with me, you cheat. The first thing I¡¯m doing when I get back to France is getting my car out of the impound to drive myself,¡¯ he muttered as he stepped out from the sedan with Olivia. They went into the hotel. The lobby was almost empty, but the same receptionist stood behind the counter, unphased by their arrival. Olivia simply showed her badge before heading toward the elevator. The receptionist wished her a good night before turning to Victor. He should have an impressive memory because he was speaking to him in French, "Good evening, Mr. De la Fayette." "Good evening, Mr. Receptionist," Victor replied, unsure of the man''s name. "Please, call me Charon, Mr. De la Fayette. Your badge was returned to the hotel this afternoon," Charon informed him, pulling out a familiar badge from a drawer and handing it over. "Try not to lose it this time, Mr. De la Fayette." "I didn''t lose it," Victor muttered, slipping the badge into his trouser pocket. "I know, Mr. De la Fayette, it was just a joke," Charon replied with a smile. Victor had to admit the joke hadn''t landed, unlike a certain story that had worked wonders just minutes earlier. ''What can I say? Life is unfair sometimes,'' Victor thought, making his way to the elevator. Charon wished him a good night just before the doors closed. Victor found his room, opened the door, and collapsed onto his bed. He fell asleep so quickly that he didn''t even shut the door behind him, starting to snore immediately. The night passed in utter silence, and when Victor woke up, it was already 10 AM. Jet lag was unhelpful, as he still felt tired after so much sleep. He yawned, got ready, and left his room, not noticing someone had closed his door during the night. He headed to the restaurant area for breakfast, greeting the receptionist on his way. Inside, he was welcomed by the smell of fresh pastries and bread. The dining room was nearly empty, as most guests had eaten over an hour ago. However, he spotted three familiar faces at a table and joined them after grabbing some food. Shirley, Olivia, and the mysterious man from the manager''s office were there. Without a greeting or introduction, the man gestured for Olivia to speak. She stuck her tongue out before addressing Victor in French, "The dealines have changed. We need to start our quota in two days, so he wants to know what you can do." - What does he mean by that? Victor asked. - What are your skills?" ''Well, I have a knack for bad luck, the charisma of a corpse, and a mountain of debt to pay off, but I guess that''s not what they want to hear,'' Victor mumbled to himself, searching for an answer. After a few moments, he answered Olivia, "I know what has value and what doesn''t." It was vague enough to cover his back and close enough to the truth to avoid suspicion. Olivia translated his response to the others before continuing to sip on her orange juice. The man didn''t press further. They all had their secrets, and he had no interest in uncovering them. All that mattered to him was meeting the upcoming quota. Nothing else mattered. He stood up. "**Tonight, 7 PM, same place. You''re free for the rest of the day,**" he said before leaving. Olivia translated for him once more before letting him enjoy his breakfast. ''Truly a man of few words.'' Victor thought before focusing back on his food. Victor had to admit, the pastries were excellent, and he would have eaten more if he had woken up earlier. Shirley was watching him with curiosity. "**What happened to you yesterday?**" she asked. She waited patiently for Olivia to translate her question. "I kept walking forward," Victor replied. Olivia wasn''t surprised by his answer, but Shirley clearly was. She stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before clarifying her question. "I meant, where were you while I was battling the police forces?" Victor nearly choked upon hearing the question. "I ran away. Did you expect me to stay and cheer you on?" Once Shirley got the translation, she retorted, "Of course, you should have cheered for me you dummy !" She was pouting, so Victor tried to cheer her up: "And how did you manage to escape?" he asked through Olivia. Her pout turned into a scowl. ''Wrong move. Maybe I should ask Olivia to tell her a story to distract her,'' he thought, finishing his croissant. Breakfast ended on that sour note, but Shirley wasn¡¯t one to let yesterday''s troubles spoil her day. She invited Victor for another tour around the city and asked Olivia as well, who declined because she didn''t want to translate all day. She jokingly suggested kidnapping a hotel employee who spoke French to translate for them. Surprisingly, this plan was immediately discarded when the receptionist looked at them. He had a friendly smile but didn''t seem in the mood for jokes with his piercing gaze. Victor would have liked to stay in the hotel to sleep, but Shirley gave him no choice. Just like yesterday, they left the hotel in the same monster truck. They toured the city all morning before returning to the hotel around 1 PM for lunch. Victor was still sad about not seeing the White House but he hadn''t given up his hope of seeing it the next day. After eating their lunch with Olivia, who appeared to have spent the morning reading, the two rascals left the hotel again. Shirley hadn¡¯t warned him, but they wouldn''t be using the monster truck that afternoon. Remembering it was Victor¡¯s first time in the U.S., she couldn''t help but showing him more than just New York. She had planned for a transporter to deliver two bikes for a ride outside the city. They approached the motorcycles, Victor looking at them with both apprehension and curiosity. "**Take that one and follow me. I¡¯m going to show you around New York !**" she exclaimed, pointing to one of the bikes. The transporter, who had stayed near the bikes, handed her a bag that she had prepared. Inside were two helmets, two leather jackets, and two pairs of gloves. She handed one of each to Victor before wearing her own. After putting on her helmet, she mounted her bike and turned to Victor. Her face showed her anticipation, while Victor¡¯s conveyed his bewilderment. He had never ridden a motorcycle in his life and had no clue on how to ride one. ''It can¡¯t be that hard, I¡¯ve ridden a bicycle before,'' he encouraged himself. What he didn¡¯t know was that he was about to ride a Kawasaki Ninja H2R, a bike so powerful and high-performing, it wasn¡¯t even legal on the road. ''This will be a piece of cake,'' thought Victor as he approached the bike. Chapter 13 : Easy as pie Quota 0/270 - On hold : 11 days left to start the quota (Only 2 days left to meet Mister T. deadline) In summary, it wasn''t as simple as it seemed. Victor had no idea how to proceed since the motorcycle had no pedals like his bicycle used to. He hadn''t even managed to start it. He was just standing still beside it while giving Shirley a helpless look, hoping she''d come to help him. But Shirley had a different plan. She asked the carrier to load both motorcycles onto his truck and take them to a different address. She realized that Victor had never handled a motorcycle before and wanted to address that. Instead of exploring the city outskirts that day, they were going to take their motorcycle tests. Shirley was curious to see if she would pass herself. They climbed into the carrier''s truck, and it took them about an hour to reach their destination. Their destination was on the outskirts of the city. The three of them got out of the truck and unloaded the two motorcycles. They had arrived in front of a sort of track a few hundred meters long, with a small sign at the entrance: "**Private Zone. Get your license in less than a day with our professional courses!**" The carrier had left on Shirley''s orders, as if she expected them to leave with their licenses. For now, they simply pushed their motorcycles toward their new instructor a few steps away. He was an old man in his sixties, with black hair sprinkled with white. He had two motorcycles next to him that he usually used to teach beginners. He was thus a bit surprised to see them arrive with their massive bikes. He wasn''t the biggest expert on models, but he knew theirs were too powerful and radical to use for beginners. "**Good day to both of you, I''m Jackson and I''ll be your teacher for the day. Feel free to ask if you have any questions. If not, we can start right away,**" he announced before turning to the two bikes he had prepared for them. "**You should really learn on these models. They''re light and manageable, ideal for people just starting.**" It was a valid point which Shirley dismissed. They had all afternoon to teach Victor how to ride, and she was determined to return home by bike. She thought it would be best to teach him on the bike that he would be using later. She answered to the man''s suggestion with her signature smile: "**Don''t worry, sir, he''s quick to learn and catches on fast. He should be flying on his bike in just these few hours !**" She might have been overly optimistic. The man sighed in defeat before starting to give them instructions. Shirley didn''t need them since she knew how to ride a motorcycle despite not having a license, but the information was crucial for Victor. Unfortunately for him, he couldn''t understand a word the instructor was saying. Shirley warned the instructor about Victor''s condition, and they started a mime class. In summary, Victor had to learn to switch from bicycles to racing motorcycles in one afternoon by following mime lessons from an old man. The project seemed doomed from the start, but Victor managed quite well. He fell every few meters at first, but his biggest challenge was mastering the clutch. After an afternoon of falls, Victor was ready to face the real road. He now had only two main issues with his motorcycle. The first was its unreasonable power. It had so much horsepower that it would rear up if he used too much throttle. Doing a wheelie was cool for the show, but Victor didn''t have the skills to be confident once it was happening. The second problem was its weight. It was heavier than a standard motorcycle because of its engine, and Victor often found himself on the ground when he was trying to stop. He never really got hurt, but he never went over 20 miles per hour, or as Victor would say as a true Frenchman, 30 kilometers per hour. The instructor didn''t really think Victor was ready, but he believed they wouldn''t have any problems getting home if they went slowly. He gave each of them a motorcycle license before bidding them farewell and riding off on his own. Now, it was just the two young people and their two overpowering motorcycles. Victor checked the time on his phone. 6:30 PM "It''s going to be tough to make it to the hotel by 7 PM," he whispered while looking apprehensively at Shirley. She was wearing her signature comforting smile, though it wasn¡¯t really comforting Victor. He had the unsettling feeling that she would prioritize punctuality over obeying the law and, in this case, speed limits. Victor was already uneasy about it if he was a car passenger but driving a motorcycle himself was only intensifying his anxiety. He may have lacked confidence, but the thought of speeding on this bike, which was a bit too eager to start some wheelie, was worrying to say the least. Nevertheless, Victor resigned himself to his fate. He mounted his motorcycle and followed Shirley. She abided by the speed limits until they reached the highway. Once on it, she gradually began to accelerate. She didn''t exceed 150 miles per hour, but Victor already found it difficult to keep up with her pace. He might have managed if he had been alone on a straight road, but his instructor had never really taught him how to manage interlane traffic at high speeds. Well, the old man hadn''t taught him beyond 20 miles per hour, so he was doing pretty well all things considered. And by pretty well, I mean he was still alive, which is not bad, right? After the most stressful minutes of his life and a few close calls, they finally exited the highway. Victor didn''t know why, but he felt thrilled by the speed. "Maybe I''m a speed freak," he thought before catching himself. "I''m not crazy ! It''s this woman trying to corrupt my mind and lure me to the dark side of the law. But I, Victor, will never follow you into this madness !" he declared inwardly as he handed his helmet to the valet who had come down the steps. He checked the time on his phone. 6:55 PM Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. Five minutes early. It turns out, there was no need to rush. They could have driven at 140 miles per hour and still arrived on time. Victor stopped thinking about it and walked with Shirley into the hotel. They headed straight to the restaurant where Olivia and the mysterious man were waiting. They had already ordered drinks and seemed to be patiently awaiting their arrival. The patrons inside the restaurant were paying either with strangely colored coins or regular money, but Victor had neither. He was already pleased with the hotel''s hospitality and wouldn''t push their generosity. They took their seats at the table. When the man had said this morning that he wanted to talk, Victor had imagined a speech or something motivational for the troops, but that was not the case at all. The man didn''t speak during the first part of the meal, allowing Shirley to tell Olivia about their little motorcycle trip. He only started talking when they got to dessert. Like a squad leader, he began giving everyone directions: "On site, Olivia will handle our safety while Shirley will be our driver, and Victor will sort out the items he thinks are most valuable. Olivia, I want you to walk at the back of the group to protect our rear and be ready to respond if something approaches from the sides. I''ll take care of carrying the ammo bags, supplies, and any other essentials we might need once inside. Shirley, I need you to be ready at a moment''s notice to pull us out of any misstep in a flash. I''ve made three copies of the keys to the vehicle we''ll use for this mission, so any of us can get out even if something happens to Shirley. Lastly, Victor, I need you to choose, without hesitation, the items that will bring us the most value once we''re inside." (I''ve removed the ** since Olivia will translate all the sentences for Victor whenever they are together.) ''Why do I feel like he''s gearing up for war?'' This feeling was growing stronger after each one of the man¡¯s sentences. After answering their few questions, mostly technical ones from Olivia, the man wished them a good night and asked them to be at the restaurant by 8 am the next day. He left the restaurant to go who knows where, and Victor went on to finish his dessert. They were supposed to meet someone named Dine tomorrow to get the location of where they needed to go on Staten Island. During their conversation, Victor also learned that the company was usually sending a notification to its members whenever a new site was available. Interested parties just had to go to the announced branch to get the location. It was usually a "first come, first served" rule, but the person who had assembled the team seemed confident that no one would take the house away from them. Perhaps she had contacts within the company, or maybe Victor was overthinking it. He had returned to his room after talking with Shirley all evening. She spoke about her travels but mainly about the cars, bikes and other random vehicles that she had in her garage. He was now lying on his bed, still digesting because he had eaten too much, and pondering philosophical questions. ¡®It might be a good idea to use this time to listen to the voice in my head. It''s been a while since I''ve heard its soothing sound,¡¯ he thought as he got comfortable in his bed. ¡®Is there anyone around here ?¡¯ he muttered to himself, as if he was trying to talk with his inner self. Of course, I''m always here! ¡®How are you doing, little voice?¡¯ I¡¯m doing very well, host, and you? ¡®I''m okay, I''m okay. Tell me, little voice, what exactly can you do ?¡¯ Just think very hard about the word ¡°command¡± and you will discover all my capabilities! Victor said the magic word out loud and a holographic screen appeared before his eyes. ¡®Can others see it ?¡¯ he asked, worried. Of course! But you don''t need to display this screen to use my features. Once you know what I am capable of, you just have to say the keywords to get everything you dream of ! Victor wasn''t sure he was reassured by the end of the sentence, but he wasn''t opposed to the idea of being able to buy a motorcycle like Shirley''s with the system. He turned his attention back to the holographic screen. It had a bluish tint and floated a few centimeters above the bed. There seemed to be several major categories in the system''s functions. First was the scan function that Victor had already used once, which allowed him to know how many objects were left inside the house. Just below was a function modestly titled ¡°System Commands¡± that Victor couldn¡¯t understand. ¡®What is the System Commands category for ?¡¯ The system commands cannot be used here. You will get more and more information once you are in the appropriate place, host ! ¡®I guess it''s a function that only works near the house we are trying to search, like the scan.¡¯ Victor went onto the other categories. The next on the list was the store function. As soon as he had thought of the keyword, a new screen appeared. This screen was listing all the items that the system was selling, but it seemed to be out of stock as there were only two items in the catalog: a lamp that the system labeled as "professional" despite looking outdated to Victor, and a shovel. ¡®Aren''t you selling anything else, Mr. Dream Seller? Not even a powerful bike ?¡¯ Not for now! But rest assured, my catalog will expand after you have met a quota ! ¡®This system seems like a big sales pitch.¡¯ I can hear you, host ! "Whatever. After all, it¡¯s your fault you¡¯re not selling practical stuff." Victor thought about closing the store, and the holographic screen disappeared. He continued to browse the main screen. The last category was ominously named "Monsters." Before asking any questions to the system, he thought of the keyword and a new window appeared. Like the store, the screen was composed only of question marks except for two names noted in bright red. Coil-head Jester ¡®Since when have I encountered monsters? Maybe my inner self wasn''t hiding its ugliness behind a sheet but was actually in fact a monster.¡¯ The system''s voice echoed in his head to interrupt his thoughts. I have searched your memory. You have encountered a Coil-head on your second day of work and a Jester on your third. Don''t worry, host ! Except under exceptional circumstances, you are safe once you have left the property of the house you have just searched ! The system might have managed to comfort him if it wasn¡¯t for its answer to his very next question. ¡®Were they harmless ?¡¯ They are the ones who prevent the most people from completing their quotas. But you made it out host ! Victor was not feeling very pleased. ¡®Can you show me a picture so I can see what they look like ?¡¯ Here''s a Coil-head. An image appeared before his eyes. It was the statue over two meters tall that he had seen on the second day. ¡®So it wasn''t a modern art statue ?¡¯ A second image appeared a few seconds later. Jester. It was a small music box with a handle on the side. The system, hearing Victor''s barrage of questions, gave him more information. Once it starts winding its music, you have 15 minutes to leave the building. If you don''t leave on time, you can say goodbye to your day and probably your quota ! ¡®I didn''t know it was so dangerous ! They really seem good at making people fail their quotas, those two rascals !¡¯ He took a few seconds to calm down before asking the system: ¡®How does a Coil-head work ?¡¯ It moves towards you as long as you''re not looking at it. You can put a door between you and it, but remember, it will find a way to open it after a few minutes ! And of course, if it catches you, it''s the end of your day ! ¡®I should buy a shovel to defend myself next time I encounter one of the two. By the way, how am I supposed to pay for a shovel ?¡¯ The total from what you''ve sold at each quota allows you to buy items from the store. For example, you sold for the last quota 251. With the 60 given by the system and a bonus of 27 for selling beyond the quota, you currently have 338. ¡®Is that enough to buy a shovel?¡¯ he asked the system. A shovel costs 30 each, so you can buy 11. They will appear instantly at your side, but it won¡¯t be the case for every item. ¡®Is there a way to convert this currency into real money?¡¯ The system''s voice, cold and devoid of emotion, replied instantly. No. Items purchased from the system also sell for 0 to the company. ¡®Sad, it might have allowed me to become a pro at buying and reselling.¡¯ he lamented as he bought 11 shovels. Thank you for your purchase, host! He placed one under his bed, one in the bathroom, and one under his pillow. He left the others beside him under the comforter to have one on hand in case a music box decided to show up. Victor had not yet unlocked the other functions of the system, so he made the screen in front of him disappear with a thought before falling asleep surrounded by his harem of shovels. ¡®Goodnight, system.¡¯ Goodnight, host ! ¡®Maybe I really am going crazy,¡¯ he thought as he drifted off to sleep. While Victor slept, a discussion took place above his head. The mysterious man had come to see the manager with a question that was troubling his mind. "Can you vouch for Mr. de Lafayette''s ability to see the objects that matter to the company ?" The manager laughed upon hearing his question. "Me? Absolutely not ! But someone do. - Who is that ? - Mr. T. vouches for the boy''s abilities, and we both know he rarely speaks with us mere mortals." Chapter 14 : Dine Quota 0/270 - On hold : 11 days left to start the quota (Only 2 days left to meet Mister T. deadline) 7:30 AM ¡®What could possibly be waiting at the bottom of the hotel steps?¡¯ Victor pondered what kind of vehicle Shirley had arranged for the day. Jet lag still lingered, and he had woken up earlier than usual. 7:31 AM ¡®This half-hour is going to feel long. Are you girls all here ?¡¯ He began counting to make sure he hadn''t left any behind. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 All accounted for. ¡®Maybe it''s odd to call inanimate shovels as if they were my children. I should probably see a therapist once I''m back in France to get to the bottom of this.¡¯ 7:32 AM Feeling the upcoming half-hour would be lengthy, Victor left his hotel room, awkwardly carrying 11 shovels in his arms. ¡®It must be really handy to have children with legs; at least they can walk on their own without needing to be carried.¡¯ Victor thought as he struggled into the restaurant. Olivia and the mysterious man were already there but hadn¡¯t started eating. They were patiently waiting for the rest of the team. Olivia was cleaning her weapon for the umpteenth time, and the mysterious man had his eyes closed as if the world didn''t deserve his gaze. He had to open them when he heard Victor approaching. The shovels occasionally clanked against each other, making Victor¡¯s approach impossible to ignore. Even some of the restaurant''s patrons looked up from their newspapers to watch with curiosity and amusement as the young man and his 11 shovels approached. Once he reached the table, Victor carefully placed 10 shovels on the ground and kept one on his lap in case he had to defend himself. ¡®I hope the system will start to offer other weapons for sale soon because I feel a bit disadvantaged," Victor murmured, noticing the weapon in Olivia¡¯s hands. It was the same weapon as the day before, but now there was a huge suitcase beside her. Inside must be all the weapons she needed for their mission. "Maybe there¡¯s a rocket launcher in there," Victor thought. The fairy tale had been hauntingly effective, as it refused to leave his mind. "Do you want to know what¡¯s inside ?" Olivia asked, seeing him eye her suitcase. - Not really," he replied after giving himself a moment to think. Victor felt that he wasn¡¯t quite ready to confront reality. "This girl is nothing like that Afghan girl. That Afghan girl has nothing to do with this girl. This Afghan girl is nothing like this girl," Victor repeated to himself as if he was trying to reassure himself. ¡®Anyway, rocket launchers shouldn¡¯t be available for sale, right ?¡¯ he wondered. Doubt crept into his mind. He ate a pastry to try and dispel it, then a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and finally a sixth, then a seventh. He finally felt satiated and reassured. The mysterious man had returned to his semi-somnolent state, while Olivia had also begun to eat. Victor checked the time on his phone to see how much longer they had to wait. 7:35 AM Only 25 minutes remained until the end of his wait, but to Victor, they felt like an eternity. He was almost relieved when Shirley finally walked through the restaurant doors. Though still wary about the vehicle she might have prepared, he at least felt freed from his ordeal. Olivia was the only one who could have spoken to him during the wait, yet she was too captivated by the pastries before her to notice the distress in Victor¡¯s eyes. He checked the time on his phone. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. 7:55 AM ''I can thank her for being early. Finally, something is going to happen !'' Victor thought hopefully. But reality hit Victor hard. The mysterious man had started eating. Shirley had begun her meal. Olivia was still nibbling on the same pastry she''d started half an hour ago. And Victor waited. He would have liked to eat to pass the time, but his stomach had already begun to protest after he had devoured 7 pastries in just a few minutes. He wished someone would talk to him, but they were all hypnotized by the excellent food at the hotel. Victor had to wait impatiently for them to finish their meals. Despite getting a head start, Olivia was the last to finish her breakfast. Shirley had already started talking with the mysterious man who had spoken only a few words throughout their exchange. Victor was still moping around because he couldn''t understand a word. He had given up all hope that Olivia would ever finish her breakfast and had started talking quietly to the shovels at his feet. He only snapped out of his daydream when Shirley¡¯s hand waving in front of his face finally caught his attention. She looked at him with concern but curiously eyed the pile of shovels at his feet. Victor picked them up before standing up. He parted with one of them, offering it as a sacrifice to Shirley to bless their day and especially their car of the day. Shirley accepted the shovel with a big smile and thanked him in English. "**Thank you.**" Olivia hadn''t bothered to translate such a simple and universal word. Victor then replied with a broad smile: "Hello." Shirley had no reaction as if she expected this reply. Olivia, on the other hand, looked at him in astonishment and pointed out his mistake: "You used the wrong word. ''Thank you'' means ''Merci,'' while ''Hello'' means ''Bonjour.''" Victor thanked her using the new word he had just learned. "Thank you." The man had hinted to Shirley that they would talk once they were on their way. So, they left the hotel and came face to face with Shirley¡¯s new vehicle. Victor shielded his eyes, but Shirley pulled his hand away so he could marvel at what lay at the bottom of the steps. It was undoubtedly the most impressive vehicle Victor had ever seen on the road. So impressive, in fact, that Victor doubted its legality once again. He also began to wonder if it was a military vehicle. The roof seemed surprisingly wide enough to mount a turret or some other type of armament. They all entered through the armored doors. ¡®At least it feels safe, even if comfort took a hit,¡¯ Victor thought once the doors were closed. Once they settled into their seats as comfortably as possible, the man spoke up : "We will retrieve the location from Dine and leave early tomorrow morning to start the three days. On-site, we''ll search until 6 PM before beginning to pull back. The goal is always to be out of the building by 8 PM and back to our vehicle by 9 PM. I''ve already prepared all the survival necessities so we can sleep inside the vehicle for three days. We''ll take turns on guard every four hours throughout the night before resuming our search at 6 AM. Any questions ?" - I understand that we want to bring back as much as possible, but why search for so long? - Every house the company sends us to has galleries that need to be explored, and it will take several hours to retrieve all the items if we go far inside them. - Do you think there will be so many items that we can''t carry them all if each of us has a bag ? The man shook his head. - You know the company¡¯s rules, but you''re not aware of the odd ones that apply to the places we enter. Have you ever wondered why there are only four of us when we could easily be ten ? - For the money. The man shook his head again. - The company doesn''t care about the money. All they want is for us to retrieve their items. But why not send more people to the same place? After all, more people necessarily mean more items. But unfortunately for the company, they must comply with them and their demands. - Them ? - The residents of these houses." ¡®Well, thankfully the owners have a say in their own house !'' Victor thought, pleased for them. "They have their rights," Victor finally said, hesitantly. - Indeed, they do. But it''s us who end up paying the price," the man replied bitterly. "Groups of five or more are forbidden, and groups of fewer than four are strongly not recommended." The man stopped talking, as if he wasn''t used to exchanging so many words with someone. ¡®Of course, the dark and mysterious man must remain dark, but above all, mysterious,¡¯ Victor thought as he turned to his second source of information available. He asked Olivia in French: "Are there any other restrictions? - Each person can only carry four items at a time." ¡®Once again, I do hope that if someone breaks into my house, they can only take four items at a time !¡¯ Victor exclaimed internally. He thanked Olivia before reflecting on the two conversations he had just had. ¡®How do owners know that people are coming to rob them, and why don''t they just prevent thieves from entering instead of setting up all these restrictions? I hope at least they have a way to ensure that the thieves don''t break the rules,¡¯ Victor thought, growing more and more perplexed. He was about to pose the question to the man when the vehicle came to an abrupt stop. They had arrived at their destination. In front of them stood a building with a facade similar to those around it, but it housed a branch of the company. They entered inside. If the exterior revealed nothing, the interior deceived no one. There was marble on the floor and wood paneling on the walls. There was so much wealth in such a small space that Victor felt a pang of sadness for Experimentation. ¡®Don''t worry, Experimentation, I''ll bring you back a block of marble to place on the corner of your desk once I''ve repaid my debts !¡¯ he vowed in his heart. Like the poor Experimentation from Lille, there was a woman of considerable presence behind the desk. Victor didn''t even try to guess her age as her face was too smooth to be natural and not the result of beauty products. The mysterious man approached the woman, who remained seated behind her desk and hadn''t even looked up from the documents she was reading. He had to say her name before she gave him any attention. "Excuse me for interrupting, Dine, but we''ve come to collect our assignment as agreed," he said. The woman''s gaze was icy, and without a word, she pulled a document from a compartment in her desk. ''I preferred Experimentation. At least she smiled and said hello,'' Victor thought, missing the receptionist from Lille. The man thanked her before exiting the building with the others. He opened the small note the woman had handed him. Written in blue ink was the address of the house he needed to search, and in another handwriting style, in black ink, were the words: Good Luck Checking the address on maps, he saw it was a house on the outskirts of Staten Island, sprawling over several kilometers. It was a large area they would need to search, especially if the tunnels really extended across the entire property. They headed back to their "car" to check out the location up close. After a ten-minute drive, they arrived in front of a gate. Just a few meters ahead, they could see the house they needed to search and a concrete road leading up to it. ''This is perfect, we can park right down by the house, so even if we need to make trips back and forth, we won¡¯t have to walk much to the car,'' Victor thought excitedly. In the rearview mirror, however, Shirley had a grim expression. Victor couldn¡¯t make out what she was muttering due to the partition separating the driver from the passengers and the language barrier, but perhaps it was for the best. For the sake of the report, our team read her lips to discover her complaint : "If only the house had been in the middle of the property with no road, I could have finally shown my helicopter to the others !" Even though he didn''t understand her words, Victor sensed that he had nearly dodged a bullet. He turned his head to see what he could of the property. Behind the house stood a forest of trees that Victor would not have wanted to go through even if it seemed peaceful at that hour of the morning. The company didn¡¯t allow drone reconnaissance before the quota began, so the team went back to the hotel. Tomorrow would mark the start of three intense days, and they all needed to mentally prepare for what was to come. Chapter 15 : Baby first day on Dine Quota 0/270 - Only 3 Days Left 5:00 AM An alarm rang in a hotel room. Victor struggled to get up. He didn''t have much to pack, so he grabbed one of the empty bags the mysterious man had given him and stuffed the remaining 10 shovels into it. He headed down to the restaurant. The man must have informed the reception about their departure time because a staff member was there preparing breakfast. Victor approached the staff member with Olivia to ask : "Good morning, could I have a coffee? - Good morning sir and madam, what type of bean would you like for your coffee? - Whatever you want. Victor was unfamiliar with the different coffee beans. - Very well sir, would you like your coffee regular, decaf, diluted, or American? - Whatever you want, sir, I don''t like coffee anyway." The man showed no reaction to his response, but Olivia looked at Victor with confusion. She whispered: "Why would you get a coffee if you don''t like it?" Victor must have been still groggy because he replied strangely: "Because I need to stay awake to avoid dozing off in front of a statue. They''re apparently good at preventing people from meeting their quota, so I must remain alert to avoid having our items stolen." Olivia didn''t understand what he had just said, and Victor returned to the table with a coffee in hand. Everyone had finished eating. They were just waiting for Victor to finish his coffee before they could leave, and he was taking forever. ''I hope the pay will reflect all the sacrifices I''ve made,'' Victor thought, making a funny face after each sip of coffee. Victor had no doubt that the coffee was excellent, but it still tasted like coffee. He opened the bag at his feet to wait for the bitterness to pass. Out of the ten remaining shovels, he took two to offer to Olivia and the mysterious man. The man first examined the shovel with curiosity before realizing it was just a heavy shovel, weighing nearly 15 pounds. He placed it in his bag, which was already stuffed with items. Olivia thanked Victor and put hers in her bag next to a rocket launcher. Victor finished his coffee, and they set off. Shirley had chosen to use the same vehicle as yesterday for the entire mission. Victor didn''t quite understand her choice, but he couldn''t deny feeling perfectly safe inside. They reached their destination after a few minutes'' drive. The roads were empty at this early hour, with the sun yet to rise over New York City. Victor got out of the car with an empty bag slung over his shoulder and a shovel in one of his hands. The man had prohibited him from carrying the other shovels, so he left the rest of his gear inside the vehicle. All the lights in the house were off and the chilly wind was sending shivers down one¡¯s spine. The house door was locked, but the man pulled out tools from his bag to pick the lock. After only a few seconds, the lock clicked open and he entered the house. Shirley followed him inside while Victor paused at the doorstep before turning his head towards the forest to his left. Thoom - Thoom - Thoom Victor thought he heard muffled sounds coming from the forest. After stopping to listen, he started feeling like someone was watching him through the thick vegetation. ''I must not be fully awake yet. I should have had a second coffee,'' he thought as he finally entered the house. Olivia followed after him a few seconds later. She approached the mysterious man who was waiting for them in the entrance hall. "There''s something outside in the forest." The man pondered for a few seconds before replying. "The Humvee should keep us safe from whatever''s lurking outside." He continued, addressing the entire group: This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. "Now that we have started the quota and are inside, we can speak freely. I''ve told you about the strange rules that exist here, and one is more restrictive than the others. You cannot talk about the inhabitants you meet in these places outside of these places. Now that we are inside, we can share what we have encountered during our first quota." Shirley began: "I completed my first quota on Experimentation. I encountered just one monster on the third day. It was a hairy spider several meters long and nearly a meter high. It was terrifying, but it didn''t see me, so I managed to leave without much trouble. There were lots of spider webs around it, so I think we shouldn''t have too much trouble spotting it and then choosing to either avoid it or kill it." Olivia followed up: "I don''t think we can kill it as easily as that. I encountered one myself and it wouldn''t die even after several magazines. I also saw a monster in the garden when I was about to leave. It looked like a dog but was the size of a grizzly and had a massive mouth. An interesting detail was that it had no eyes and didn''t seem to be able to see me. I just waited until it was far enough away to shoot at it and see if my bullets had any effect. It was stunned for barely a second before running towards me. After playing with it for a few minutes, I can say with certainty it was blind but could locate me by the sound of my footsteps. If we encounter one in the coming days, be mindful of the noise you make." The man briefly explained what he had seen: "I saw a larva on the ceiling that seemed to be waiting for me to pass underneath. I think it attacks its victim by latching onto their head and suffocating them." Before Victor shared what he had seen in that cursed house, he turned to Olivia and asked: "Wait, so there were monsters trying to kill you on your first quota ? - Yes. - Uh... and there are monsters in this house?" - Most likely." Victor was shaken. He asked the voice in his head: ''Did the Coil-head and the Jester I met try to kill me?'' Of course, host ! People rarely complete their quota when they appear because they rarely leave the house alive ! ''And we might encounter them today?'' Yes host ! There''s a good chance that you''ll run into one of the two either today or in the coming days ! Olivia patted him on the shoulder after seeing him being blanked out for several seconds. "Is something wrong, Victor ? - Everything''s fine, don''t worry about me." He asked one last question to the voice in his head: ''What were the chances of encountering a Jester or a Coil-head during my first quota ?'' But host, the monsters you encounter are not determined by your quota but by the area you are in. Experimentation is somewhat of a zone for beginners, while Dine is meant for veterans and experts. The likelihood of a Coil-head or Jester being in Experimentation is virtually zero, so you''ve witnessed an extremely rare event ! Don''t worry, host ! You''ll find more monsters here but also more valuable items ! Good luck, host ! ''Su per'' Victor snapped out of his trance to share with the others what he had seen in his first days: "The first day I saw nothing, a Coil-head on the second, and a Jester on the third." "What are they?" asked the man. "A Coil-head is a statue over two meters tall with nails covering its body and a spring for a neck. It must have been conceived by a modern artist running out of ideas because it''s not very pretty. You just have to keep looking at it for it to remain still. I didn¡¯t see the Jester, but I heard it. The moment you hear the melody of a music box, you need to leave the house as fast as possible." "Did you try to kill them?" the man inquired. "I didn¡¯t attempt... but now I have a shovel ! We¡¯ll see if they still act tough when they see me approaching!" The man stopped speaking, but Shirley asked one more question: "How did you come up with those names ? - I¡­ listened to the voice in my head," Victor replied, slightly embarrassed by his answer. The man checked his watch before signaling the others to start searching. They all headed in different directions, leaving Victor alone in the entrance hall. They had agreed the night before on the areas each would search once inside. Victor was assigned the kitchen, the entrance hall, and the living room. He started with the kitchen, which had enough knives and forks for a large party of a hundred guests. Victor didn¡¯t even try to touch them, knowing he¡¯d still be there the next day if he had to scan each one. He began with the kitchen whisks. No value No value No value No value ''How many whisks are in this kitchen?'' grumbled Victor, feeling his patience slowly fading. No value Whisk: x1 - value 18 ''Finally!'' Victor exclaimed inwardly upon finding the first valuable item. And then a second later, he saw the value of the whisk: ''18?!! That¡¯s so bad !'' he muttered in disappointment. He had to stop scanning the other whisks when Olivia approached him carrying four items. One of them was a nearly meter-tall lamp that she was struggling to carry. Victor looked at each item for several dozen seconds before delivering the verdict. Lamp: x1 - value 67 Coffee cup: x1 - value 55 Ring: x1 - value 63 Perfume: x1 - value 74 "Each of these items should be worth around 70," he finally told Olivia after reading the scan results. Olivia exclaimed in English: "**That¡¯s big money !**" She went to place the items in a bag at the entrance before going back to search. The others weren¡¯t as lucky as she was. Shirley only found a duck worth a miserable 4, and the man came back with a hairbrush valued at 8. Victor continued searching the kitchen. No value No value No value ¡­ No value This sentence was beginning to haunt his mind. The fridge was empty but not some cupboards. Sometimes he could find packets of pasta or jars of mustard. None of them had any value until he grabbed a certain jar. Pickle jar: x1 - value 60 It was the last object in the kitchen, and Victor was glad to have found it. He headed to the living room to begin searching there. The group was making good progress, but Victor was running out of time to search. He was the only one who could determine if an item was valuable, and his teammates were interrupting him every five minutes to check their items'' worth. 8:00 AM It had already been two hours since Victor started searching, and over an hour since he was in the living room. There were huge shelves with a staggering number of books he had to scan, and he was already getting tired. He felt even more depressed thinking about how none of the books that he had scanned had any value. He came out of the living room disheartened. He had found only two items in the last hour: a remote control that turned on the living room lights valued at 20, and a candy lying on the coffee table for 6. All his efforts hadn''t earned nearly as much as two items Olivia had found in just a few minutes. He finally returned to the entrance hall with his spirits at their lowest to find an intruder. It was trying to open the bag Olivia had left at the front with its little paws. When Victor entered the room, it turned to look at him with its red, tearful eyes that seemed to be begging him for help. Chapter 16 : YIPPEE !!! Quota 0/270 - Only 3 Days Left "What do you think you''re doing, little buddy?" It was clearly a monster, but Victor didn''t perceive it as dangerous. With its disproportionately short legs for its body and overly large red eyes for its face, the creature didn''t seem very threatening. It resembled more a large insect, about fifty centimeters tall, scuttling on its hind legs than a monster. It had been caught trying to open one of the bags Victor had left in the entrance, without any success. "Can you give me any information about this thing?" Of course, host ! It''s a Hoarding Bug ! "Excuse me ?" Hoarding is the compulsive urge to accumulate things. "I know that, but why do you call this thing a bug ?" Because that''s what they are called ! "Even if it''s not a bug ?" Of course, host ! "My inner voice must really be blind and dumb," was Victor''s only conclusion. The system continued in its mechanical voice. The Hoarding Bug is a pacifist monster that only becomes aggressive if you touch the objects in its nest. "So if we don''t bother it, it''ll leave us alone ?" Not really, host... Victor wasn''t listening to the system''s voice anymore as the creature had left the entrance hall. It hadn''t managed to open the bag, so it had left with it. Victor could hear the sound of its little steps echoing in the living room. ¡®Did that little shit just steal one of our bags ?¡¯ Victor wondered. He knew the answer, but the system didn''t grasp the rhetoric in his question. Of course, host ! When Olivia returned to the entrance hall, she found Victor with a ghastly expression on his face. "What happened, Victor ?" He murmured his reply while grabbing the shovel at his feet. "Call the others and grab your shovels. We are going to war." Within seconds, the other squad members rushed into the entrance hall. None of them had noticed that a bag was missing from the pile. They looked at Victor with apprehension and seriousness. But he simply walked into the living room without saying a word. The thief had stayed near the crime scene. It looked at Victor and the others who had followed him with its legs up as if it were proclaiming its innocence. But the loot was sticking out from behind its back. Victor raised his shovel high before shouting heroically as he approached the tough fight that lay ahead. "AVENGERS!" The pitiful creature responded to the provocation with its own cry: "YIPPEE!!!" Victor charged at his enemy and brought his shovel down on its head. CLING Instead of a cry of pain, Victor heard a buzzing sound. The noise of the collision was metallic, and the creature seemed unharmed after Victor''s attack. It stood up on its hind legs and extended its wings. It had grown from a few dozen centimeters tall to over one and a half meters. It now moved towards Victor with a menacing air, who had stepped back a few paces after striking it. Olivia had already fired several shots at the creature with no success. Shirley had launched forward to help Victor with her shovel in hand. The man stayed back, ready to intervene to save one of his teammates. The no longer quite pacifist Hoarding Bug advanced dangerously towards Victor, who sidestepped. The creature continued for nearly a meter straight before turning towards Victor. It charged him again, and once more Victor dodged as if it were a bull in a bullfight. Olivia had stopped shooting because she saw that her bullets had no effect, but Shirley had managed to get close enough to strike the creature with her shovel. CLANG Another metallic sound echoed through the room. The monster, fixated on Victor, turned abruptly toward Shirley. But as the creature prepared to attack its new target, CLING the metallic sound rang out once again. Victor had struck it with another shovel blow. As it turned towards Victor, CLANG The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. the creature fell to the ground. It lay there, motionless. CLING CLING CLING ''Just to be sure,'' Victor thought before retrieving the bag. The man, who until then had stayed at the back of the room, moved forward to try lifting the body of the creature. As the body lifted from the ground, a cold wind blew inside the house. The man immediately stopped his movement and placed the creature''s corpse back on the ground. We might be the first to have killed one of these monsters. We''ve discovered a new rule: you can''t take their corpse to sell to the company without angering the other inhabitants. However, they don''t seem to care that we killed one of their own. Let''s go back to searching, I still haven''t found any signs of a secret passage." After everyone had left the room, Victor lay down next to the creature''s corpse to rest. It had been a stressful moment, but he had managed to stay calm throughout the fight. The shock of what he had done only hit him after his anger had subsided. He had killed the adorable creature with his shovel just because it had stolen a bag containing four of the items they had found. He opened it to see what was inside, and in fact, there weren''t even four items. There was the plastic duck worth 4 and the hairbrush worth 8. He had killed this cute creature for a total of 12. ''Money makes people do crazy things, like killing Hoarding Bugs,'' Victor thought sadly of his own actions. ''Next time, I''ll give it the duck or the least valuable item so it can play with it,'' he swore to himself as he got up. The rest of the morning passed without incident. The man had given everyone military rations and cereal bars before they departed. Victor was nibbling on one of these, bored. He hadn''t done anything for over thirty minutes because he had already scanned all the objects in the house. He was waiting with his back to the front door, ready to start moving the bags out at the first sign of trouble. Shirley was beside him while Olivia stayed with the man. Her task was to protect him while he checked every wall of the house. This allowed the man to focus on finding the secret passage to explore the tunnels beneath the house. But after more than an hour of searching, he returned to the entrance hall with Olivia. "The access to the tunnels must be from the outside. We''ll need to look for a hatch on the rest of the property to find the entrance," he explained to the rest of the team. There were only three bags to take back to the car, one of which contained just a single item. "Victor and Olivia, you take the left side along the fence and we''ll take the right. We should meet halfway and will sweep the rest of the property in a line." After giving these instructions, Victor and Olivia headed towards the forest. The vegetation was supposed to be dense in the center of the forest, but it wasn''t on the periphery. They spread out by about ten meters to cover as much ground as possible while making sure not to miss anything and began to sweep the area. They continued on their way until they ran into the man and Shirley. Neither group had found the entrance to the tunnels. They had walked for several kilometers and could no longer even see the house. The area they were in was like a meadow with grass nearly a meter high. Olivia''s flamethrower seemed a bit too radical, so the man took a drone and a remote control out of his bag. The drone took off with a soft whir of its propellers and flew above their heads. It wouldn''t see the ground due to the tall grass, but from the air, the situation was different. The trap door would stand out from above as a small clearing where the grass couldn''t grow. The man could easily spot it because he had equipped his drone with a high-performance camera. About ten minutes passed in silence before the man recalled his drone. After packing it away, they continued on their way. The man hadn''t found the trap door. There was only one place left they hadn''t searched: the heart of the forest. This time, all four of them stayed together. They had heard the sound of a monster from within the forest that morning and didn''t want to take the risk of splitting up, even if it meant taking more time. The forest was quiet. Victor could only hear the rustling of leaves and the whistling of the wind. After several minutes of searching and venturing deeper into the forest, Victor found what they had been looking for. In the middle of a clearing stood a metal trap door, reflecting the few rays of sunlight that managed to penetrate through the treetops. Victor signaled to Olivia, who was a few meters away from him. "I found it !" The trap door had no lock, and Victor opened it using the handle on its surface. It led to a staircase descending straight into the darkness. The man and Olivia left everything they deemed superfluous at the top of the ladder. Olivia only took her assault rifle and a few magazines, while the man took only a watch and a bag with some lock-picking tools. They all descended together into the bowels of the earth. Victor tried to check the time on his phone to see how long they had been walking, but the screen refused to light up. He turned to the mysterious man who always seemed to know more than the others. "Electronic devices won''t work in the tunnels." The man pulled out three watches from his pocket and distributed them to each team member. Victor was surprised by such specific rules but strapped the watch to his wrist. 14:32 ''We have the whole afternoon to explore,'' Victor thought as he bumped into a door. He had once again gotten lost in his thoughts and hadn''t noticed they had reached the bottom of the stairs. In front of them stood a steel door. It showed no signs of aging, as if it had been installed in recent months. Despite being hundreds of meters below the ground, the door before them glowed. Victor placed his palm on its cold surface and began to hear a heartbeat. It was his own. But to the regular beats of his heart were added erratic, irregular, and unknown pulsations. Victor didn''t know where they were coming from, but he knew that this was no ordinary door. Before them lay the boundary between two worlds. And they were not welcome. The door was secured with a mechanical helical lock, a system used by banks to secure their vaults, but it was the first time Victor had seen one. The man approached the mechanism and began pulling out an array of various items from his bag. After taking a deep breath, he started picking the lock. It took him about ten minutes to overcome the mechanism, a feat that would have been impossible without his deep knowledge of its workings. He put all his items back in his bag before gripping the helices with all his might. The door opened very slowly with a muffled sound. The man''s muscles tightened under the effort, but the metal behemoth opened. They could all now see the thickness of the door. It was over a meter wide and must have weighed more than a ton. They entered a vast room. As a faint smell of decay assaulted Victor, a loud sound echoed behind them. The door had magically closed. They could now see that this side of the door bore some injuries. There were bite marks and scratches that remained superficial but also more worrying scars. The bottom left of the door had been torn away over thirty centimeters, and something had struck the reinforced steel, bending it over forty centimeters. Yet the lock had not been touched. As if the things waiting in the shadows wanted them to enter. To enter, never to be able to leave again. Chapter 17 : Inside the lair of the beast Quota 0/270 - Only 3 days left They had arrived in an entirely new setting. Victor had no idea how this room could have been built several hundred meters below the surface. But this wasn¡¯t the first time one of his questions remained unanswered. He simply looked around cautiously. The darkness of the tunnel had given way to the soft light of a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The stone staircase floor had been replaced by a black and white marble checkerboard. The smell of damp earth had been replaced by the scent of decay. In short, everything had changed. There were towering bookshelves filled with books with unknown titles all around them. In front of them stood a massive staircase that led to a balcony on each side of the room, overlooking the entrance. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving,¡± the mysterious man announced in a low voice. They had already prepared their plan of action beforehand. Victor and Olivia would start their search upstairs, while Shirley and the mysterious man would take care of the ground floor. They separated in silence. Because of the shelves, Victor didn¡¯t see the entire room until he had climbed the stairs. The railings on each side of the room actually led to wooden doors and openings. There were two doors on the right wall, only one opening on the left wall, and a door on each side of the staircase. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± murmured Victor as they passed through one of the openings. Behind it was a room nearly ten meters long without any exit. In one corner of the room was a bookshelf filled with books. Victor approached and chose a book at random. It had a red cover with no mention of an author or title. No value. Victor expected this but opened the book anyway to take a look at its contents. The pages were perfectly preserved, smooth to the touch, and smelled new. There might have been answers inside about the owners of the place, but Victor quickly closed it. Foreign language detected ¨C Complete more quota to get the translation. ¡°Make the effort to translate it into French!¡± Victor grumbled as he put the book back on the shelf. The book was written in some sort of runic language, and he didn¡¯t even know which language it was from. But anyway, they weren¡¯t here for that. On the wall opposite the bookshelf hung a painting. ¡°I can assure you this is the ugliest painting I¡¯ve ever seen,¡± thought Victor as he waited for the system''s result. One could distinguish a forest in the background and the blue sky in the distance. But as for the rest, it was another story. The lower part of the painting seemed to have been covered with brown paint, making it unrecognizable. In short, this painting wouldn¡¯t even be sold at a flea market. Yet... Painting: x1 ¨C value 60 ¡°That¡¯s why everyone hates modern art,¡± thought Victor as he took it down from the wall. The painting must have been over a meter long, and Victor had to use both hands to carry it without dropping it. Olivia had kept an eye on the entrance the whole time. Once Victor had taken the painting, there was nothing of value left in the room. They left the room. The entrance hall hadn¡¯t changed, and the duo entered an adjacent door. The room they entered was only 2 to 3 meters long and empty. However, there was another opening in the back wall. But it quickly led to a dead end. As they were retracing their steps to return to the entrance hall, Olivia noticed an object hidden in a corner of one of the rooms they had passed through. In fact, it wasn¡¯t really hidden. It was just to the left of the doorway, and neither of them had seen it because they hadn¡¯t thought to look back. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll have to remember to look back more often,¡± thought Victor as he approached the object. It was an old metal cash register. Victor had no idea how old it was, but he didn¡¯t really care. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. The company would buy it from him anyway. Cash register: x1 ¨C value 91 ¡°It would have been a shame to miss this one,¡± thought Victor as he tried to lift it. He pulled with all his might, but it didn¡¯t budge an inch. Victor turned to Olivia. ¡°Can you take the cash register?¡± he asked her. ¡°Is it that heavy?¡± ¡°Yes¡­¡± Victor finally replied, a bit embarrassed to ask a teenager to try to lift something so heavy. ¡°At worst, we¡¯ll ask the mysterious man or even Shirley to come help us...¡± he thought, watching Olivia lift the cash register without any difficulty. Victor cleared his throat. ¡°Let¡¯s forget it. She must have supernatural strength,¡± he comforted himself as he picked up the painting again. They returned to the entrance hall before placing their two items in front of the entrance door. Shirley and the mysterious man had finished searching all the openings on the ground floor. They had also found only two items. A bottle of perfume that seemed familiar to Victor and a laser pointer. It was much easier for them to recognize valuable items here. Indeed, there didn¡¯t seem to be anything else in these places but shelves, books, and valuable objects scattered on the floor. All four of them returned upstairs to the only two doors they hadn¡¯t yet searched. The mysterious man led the way, and when he tried to open the door, a dull sound rang out. This sound was not a good omen for the rest of the expedition. ¡°The door is locked,¡± announced the man before turning to the second door. Unfortunately... CLICK It didn¡¯t budge an inch. ¡°I think we won¡¯t gain anything more today.¡± The man remained calm and managed to hide his frustration. ¡°Bad luck. If only we had a key,¡± thought Victor, looking bitterly at the two doors separating him from fortune. Shirley suggested breaking the lock with one of Olivia¡¯s weapons. The mysterious man accepted the proposal on one condition: if it didn¡¯t work, they would leave as quickly as possible with the loot. The whole group accepted his proposal, and Olivia went to one of the bags they had left by the entrance door. She first pulled out a rocket launcher before changing her mind and taking a shotgun. After loading it with ammunition and removing the safety, she fired at the door lock. A dull sound rang out, accompanied by a strong smell of sulfur and burnt metal. But in addition to all that, a chilling shiver ran through the four members of the group. The door didn¡¯t show the slightest trace of the previous gunshot. "Let''s go! Now!" shouted the man as he rushed towards the stairs. The ground beneath their feet had begun to shake, as if an earthquake was approaching. Olivia grabbed the cash register, Victor the painting, Shirley the two small objects found on the ground floor, and the man took care of the bags they had brought. After taking everything, the man began to open the armored door. The tremors were getting stronger and stronger. It took three long seconds for the door to open. The team of four rushed outside. The mysterious man had already started to close the door. The immense metal block creaked, and the man began to shout from the effort. A tremor threatened to make him fall, but he remained standing. After two physically and emotionally exhausting seconds, the steel door was only a few seconds from closing. However, a dull cry echoed behind the door. The cry was inhuman and distant, but the man showed no hesitation. He pulled with all his might in a final effort, and the door closed. The man then turned the door¡¯s helices to reactivate the locking system, sealing whatever was behind. BOOM Something had struck the door from the other side. The noise and tremor were impressive, but the door didn¡¯t move. ¡°Let¡¯s go back to the hotel,¡± announced the man once he had caught his breath. He didn¡¯t seem the least bit curious about what was behind the door, and his quick thinking and actions had allowed them not to find out. The earthquake seemed violent, but it only lasted a few seconds before disappearing. It was even questionable whether seismographs would detect it, given its short duration. Victor took a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He hadn¡¯t made any effort during the last seconds, but he still fell to the ground to catch his breath. ¡°I should probably get back into shape if I ever want to be able to open and close that door on my own,¡± he thought, trying to place the painting in an empty bag. Unfortunately for him, it didn¡¯t fit. Which meant he would have to climb the stairs with the painting in his arms. A painting so large that he already had trouble seeing everything in front of him under normal circumstances. With these mitigating circumstances, Victor finished his climb behind Olivia, who was carrying the nearly 90-pound cash register and her firearm bag slung over her shoulder. But Victor didn¡¯t grumble even when he reached the top, as he was too exhausted to complain. He placed his painting next to the hatch before checking the time on his phone. 16:32 They had been down there for nearly two hours. ¡°I guess time seems to pass faster down there without daylight,¡± thought Victor, picking up the painting again. Thomp - Thomp - Thomp It was the same sound they had heard in the morning. The mysterious man led the silent march through the forest. Fortunately for them, the closer they got to the vehicle, the fainter the dull noises became. After 10 minutes of walking, they were back in front of the house. Whatever was making those noises was now far behind them. However, the man doubled his caution. He took a drone out of his bag to check the surroundings, while Olivia had already taken a rocket launcher from her bag. Only Shirley and Victor seemed out of place, holding shovels in their hands. A few seconds passed in silence. ¡°Nothing to report,¡± the man announced in a low voice, keeping an eye on the drone¡¯s camera to be ready for any eventuality. They ran out from the cover of the trees before hurriedly getting into the vehicle. ¡°GO GO GO!¡± shouted the man to Shirley, who had taken the driver¡¯s seat. The engine roared to life with an apocalyptic rumble before starting to roar. Shirley floored the accelerator, and the several-ton vehicle made a swift U-turn. The violent acceleration had sent Victor tumbling in the back, as he hadn¡¯t had time to buckle up. The mysterious man, however, took the opportunity to open his window and skillfully retrieve his drone. The vehicle passed through the gate and finally left the perimeter of the property in a strong smell of diesel. They had made it out, but tomorrow, they would have to return. Chapter 18 : Second day Quota 0/270 - Only 2 days left 6:00 AM Victor woke up with the urge to go back to sleep. He had tossed and turned in bed for hours before finally succumbing to sleep. Even after managing to fall asleep, a nightmare woke him up in the middle of the night. He struggled out of the comfort of his damp sheets to head down to the hotel reception. The others didn''t seem to have had a bad night. Shirley was asking every 30 seconds when they would go back, her eyes brimming with energy and anticipation. The mysterious man had relaxed shoulders, a coffee in one hand and a donut in the other. You could have thought he was on vacation if it weren''t for his constantly intense gaze scrutinizing everyone entering the room. Olivia remained silent, eating her breakfast at a tortoise''s pace. ¡°We won''t be searching the house today, or tomorrow for that matter,¡± the mysterious man announced after taking a sip of his coffee. Olivia and Shirley were the only ones who reacted, as Victor had already fallen back asleep on his own chair. ¡°Why do you say that?¡± Shirley asked him. The mysterious man pushed a hot cup of coffee into Victor¡¯s hand before answering her. ¡°Only the depths change disposition after each day. The house on the surface won''t have any new items to offer us.¡± Victor had been awakened so he could also hear this important information. ''So my system only gives me an advantage on the first day for exploring the house. The other days, we''ll be in the depths. Since the items behind the door are either books or valuable objects, my scanner loses much of its value. Let¡¯s hope the system improves after each quota¡­'' Victor thought. He was tired, with aches from the previous day''s sprint, but it was time to get to work. Victor finished his coffee, Olivia her pastry, and they set off. The same HUMVEE awaited them at the bottom of the hotel steps, but this time, Victor was glad to see it. ''At least, even if the Jester or another of those monsters manages to get through the door, we''ll definitely be safe inside, right?'' he thought, eyeing the thick armor. Not really, host. The door that holds them back is at least 100 times thicker than one of these windows! ''I didn¡¯t ask you.'' If that question wasn''t meant for me, host, you really are going crazy. ''We¡¯ll see a psychiatrist when all this is over, and believe me, the verdict will be conclusive.'' Whatever you want, host! ''Good to hear!'' Victor grumbled as he descended the hotel steps. 6:30 AM They had arrived. The noise from the previous day had vanished, but a thick fog now surrounded the property. Victor thought he could hear screams emanating from the forest, but he knew his mind was playing tricks on him. He took a deep breath before stepping out of the vehicle. The air was cold, damp, and heavy. The quartet began moving towards their target. They couldn''t see more than two meters ahead, but they knew exactly where they were going. The hatch had not moved. The mysterious man led the way, and they began descending the stairs. The temperature rose as they descended. After just a few minutes, they reached the same door as the previous day. It hadn¡¯t moved an inch. ''As if anyone could move something that heavy,'' Victor thought. The man took out his tools. Victor thought it would take even less time than the day before to pick the lock, but he was wrong. It took the man 10 minutes to unlock the mechanism. The door opened again, but one significant detail shook Victor. The shelves filled with books had disappeared. But the questions would have to wait until after the quota. Olivia and Victor started searching the rooms on the ground floor while the mysterious man and Shirley took care of the upstairs. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The first opening was right in the middle of the right wall. It hadn''t been there the day before, but again, Victor didn¡¯t question it. It consisted of a succession of several rooms, ending in a dead end. Unfortunately, besides a few shelves filled with books and some wooden chairs and tables, there was nothing. Which meant: No valuable items. They exited the opening as quickly as they had entered. Only two doors remained to explore on the ground floor. The first one contained their first valuable item of the day. Painting: x1 - value 91 They found it right next to one of the countless shelves. It was the same painting as the previous day. ''Can¡¯t they paint something else? Forget it, Victor, and focus on your work!'' he scolded himself, returning to the entrance hall. He could hear something walking. It wasn¡¯t the footsteps of one of their own or even a human. Before Victor could theorize about what he had heard, he saw the source. It was a cube resembling a music box. A yellow circle pattern adorned the sides, while a purple square decorated the top. Victor wouldn¡¯t have had any problem if the music box hadn¡¯t been almost fifty centimeters tall and hadn¡¯t had two little white legs to move around. To top it off, there was a cute little crank on one side with a not-so-cute arm ready to turn it. ¡®A Jester!¡¯ Jester! The two voices exclaimed at the same time, but one of them sounded much happier than the other. ¡®Why do you seem happy at the thought of your host encountering problems?¡¯ At least, host, we¡¯re less likely to be bored in the next few minutes! ¡®You¡¯re quite the joker, system. Just wait until next time we meet.¡¯ That¡¯s unlikely to happen, but hope springs eternal, host! Victor let it go for now. He put the painting down by the entrance before turning back to their visitor. He knew from the system''s information that he wasn''t in immediate danger but that they needed to leave quickly. Olivia ran upstairs to alert the others while Victor started a staring contest with the Jester. Well, the Jester didn¡¯t have eyes. So the atmosphere was rather strange. Maybe it wanted to break the ice; in any case, the Jester approached Victor with tiny steps. It stopped only a meter away from him. ¡®Having a Jester as a pet must be nice,¡¯ Victor thought, sitting on top of the music box. The comfort was mediocre, but at least he didn¡¯t have to walk. Victor imagined it already. The tranquility of the morning, the mild summer temperature, the greenery of a park, and a stroll alone with his Jester, riding on its back or eating an ice cream together on a bench. They could go surfing on the waves of the Pacific Ocean, watch a movie at the cinema, sharing popcorn from each other''s box, or have fun recreating famous scenes from the greatest films. Victor already saw himself with tears in his eyes, driving a black Dodge, stopped at a mountain road intersection, looking through the window at his friend and loyal companion, Jester, in a white Supra. They would then race in their cars, each choosing their path. They would part forever in an emotional scene with sad music, exchanging their farewells. ¡°You will always be with me, Jester, and you will always be my brother.¡± - Dan dan dan daaaaan, daaaaan dan dan da-da-da! Victor snapped out of his daydream. ¡®You weren¡¯t supposed to answer in this scene, damn Jester!¡¯ he grumbled. Dan dan dan daaaaan, daaaaan dan dan da-da-da! The Jester had started to wind its music box with its little arm. Meanwhile, Olivia had found the mysterious man and Shirley, and they were rushing down the stairs. The man had an empty bag in each hand, while Shirley was carrying what seemed to be a large axle with both hands. Without wasting time, the group rushed towards the door. Victor left the noisy top of the Jester with a sigh. He gave it a gentle pat on the head before joining his companions. After a few seconds of waiting amidst the ominous music of the Jester, the door finally opened. The air outside was fresh, and the whole group didn¡¯t hesitate to step through the door. The mysterious man closed it behind them, and the figure of the Jester and its music gradually disappeared behind the thick armor. ¡°What do we do now?¡± Shirley asked the group. She posed the question to everyone, but everyone knew Victor was the only one with the answer. ¡®What do we do now, dear system?¡¯ Victor asked his inner voice. Wait, host! Once the Jester finishes winding its music box, it will reset. At that point, you can re-enter without any problem! ¡®And how long does it take to wind its music box?¡¯ 15 minutes, host! Victor finally responded to Shirley. ¡°Let¡¯s wait 20 minutes, and we should be able to re-enter without any issues.¡± The other three members of the group nodded in agreement. They waited in silence for about 15 minutes before the mysterious man spoke. ¡°We found what seems to be the beginning of a maze of rooms upstairs. In 5 minutes, once we¡¯re inside, Victor will handle the last door on the ground floor alone, as I have a feeling it will be a dead end. Olivia will help us explore the maze as much as possible in case the music box shows up again. Does everyone understand their role?¡± The rest of the group nodded, and after 5 long minutes of waiting, they went back inside. Victor was surprised to see an old friend standing in the middle of the entrance hall, ready to welcome them. With its cute little white legs and its music box, Victor couldn¡¯t say he had missed it. ¡°We need to be quick and efficient. Let¡¯s go!¡± The trio rushed upstairs while Victor headed to the last door on the ground floor. He might have felt alone without Olivia, but the Jester had kindly decided to accompany him. Victor opened the door, and the Jester closed it behind him. They entered a large room the size of the entrance hall. ¡®And I have to search all this by myself,¡¯ Victor grumbled as he started his search, the Jester patiently waiting by the door. It was a large library with huge shelves filled with books at the center of the room. There was also a staircase leading to an upper level with another row of shelves. Victor found neither objects nor new doors downstairs, and the upper level led to a dead end. He descended the stairs and found the Jester by the door. It hadn¡¯t moved an inch since Victor had entered the room. As Victor reached out to grab the door handle and open it, he ran into something. Coincidentally, the Jester had wedged itself right under the handle, blocking any possibility of opening the door. ¡°What are you doing, my brother? You¡¯re not Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings, so let me pass,¡± he said, trying to move it with all his strength. As Victor¡¯s muscles strained under the effort and he thought he saw the Jester move at least a few centimeters, the box didn¡¯t budge an inch. However, its cute little white arm started to move and began winding its music box. Dan dan dan daaaaan, daaaaan dan dan da-da-da! Chapter 19 : A small problem Quota 0/270: 2 days remaining ¡®Not good!¡¯ Victor screamed internally. He was trapped. The Jester refused to move, and the room he was in was a dead end. Victor could only hope the Jester would be kind and that the others would have time to escape. But he quickly noticed a crucial problem: the others were likely already deep in the labyrinth. There was a chance none of them were close enough to hear any warning signs. ¡®This is going to be a massacre¡­¡¯ Victor thought, clutching his head in despair. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn¡¯t find a solution to their situation. His phone didn¡¯t work in these underground tunnels. He could try shouting to warn the others and save himself. However, his cries would be drowned out by the increasingly loud and sinister melody coming from the music box. It now played a mix of its basic tune and a dissonant sound that spelled trouble. Victor had only one option left: to hide. And, of course, the system¡¯s voice was always there to reassure him. There is no escape, host! The Jester doesn¡¯t need to see or hear you; it knows where you are. ¡®Why do you seem so happy at the idea of me dying? If I die, don¡¯t you die as well?¡¯ Victor asked, searching the room for any possible hiding spot. Don¡¯t worry, host! Death is not the end of your journey, and for your information, I am a system, so I cannot die. At worst, or perhaps at best, I will be assigned a new host. ¡®You sound like a prophet preaching the benefits of your cult,¡¯ Victor muttered, standing still in the middle of the room. He had a dark look, and his back was hunched under the weight of the inevitable. ¡®No matter what the system says, I¡¯m going to die.¡¯ This feeling left a bitter, metallic taste in Victor¡¯s mouth. He clenched his teeth, and his saliva now tasted like blood. Yet, he wasn¡¯t ready to die. ¡®At least let me have time to pay off my father¡¯s debts,¡¯ he grumbled, climbing the stairs. He had a shaky plan in mind. Audacious and simple with slim chances of survival: when the Jester climbed the stairs to catch him, he would jump over the railing, fall to the ground without breaking his legs, and run the fastest 50 meters of his life. ¡®I just hope this bastard isn¡¯t as fast as Usain Bolt,¡¯ Victor muttered, getting ready. The melody grew faster and more ominous until it suddenly stopped. And just a fraction of a second later¡­ CLANG ding ding dong Victor knew without even looking: the Jester had activated. Now it was time to see if his plan would work. A loud crackling noise filled the room. THUMP The floorboards creaked under the Jester¡¯s step. Victor still couldn¡¯t see it, but the sound he heard didn¡¯t bode well. It was only then that Victor realized something very important: he was about to see the Jester¡¯s true form, and his instincts told him he¡¯d rather not. THUMP THUMP The Jester took two steps forward and¡­ THUMP THUMP THUMP ¡®It¡¯s too fast!¡¯ Victor screamed internally. His plan had one slight flaw: the Jester was much faster than Usain Bolt. It took only a second to reach the bottom of the stairs and seemed to be accelerating. Victor jumped over the railing but didn¡¯t land on the ground. He landed on top of one of the room¡¯s shelves, and the Jester was right behind him. Only a few centimeters separated them now, but Victor knew he couldn¡¯t outrun it. In a desperate move, he made a leap of faith. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. He didn¡¯t jump towards the exit or another shelf but towards a thin wooden ledge. This ledge was 4 meters away and at the same height as Victor, making it extremely attractive to his eyes. Victor jumped with all his might. While in mid-air, he felt a hot, humid breath behind his head. CHOMP Victor was intact. He had just felt death¡¯s jaws close right behind him, but he had survived. His jump, however, hadn¡¯t been as successful. He had slammed his torso against the edge. Now he could feel his entire rib cage protesting from the impact, but he managed to cling to the edge. In one final effort, Victor pulled himself up onto the ledge. He barely stood on its narrow width. He turned around to finally see what he was dealing with. ¡°You''re not so cute anymore, my little Jester,¡± he exclaimed, seeing the nightmarish creature just a few meters away. The music box was still there at the base, but it had opened to let something out. Something slimy, organic, and downright disgusting. This mass of flesh looked like a neck, and the creature''s head was a skull made of bone. The skull measured at least 1 meter in height. The lower half was occupied by a gaping maw that had been inches from catching Victor. The upper half had two empty eye sockets, revealing the flesh within. The whole thing now stood nearly 3 meters tall. But there was more than 4 meters between the man and the creature. The Jester was quick on its feet, but it didn¡¯t seem as comfortable with long jumps. ¡®It must suck for you not to be able to reach me, big guy,¡¯ thought Victor as he watched his enemy. He didn¡¯t say it out loud, not knowing if the Jester could understand him. Already in a dead end, he didn¡¯t want to provoke it. Victor saw a glimmer of hope for himself and his teammates and wasn¡¯t about to squander it. For now, the Jester remained still on top of the bookshelf. It had stopped staring at Victor and seemed to be searching for another way to reach him. Fortunately for Victor, it found a route to climb up to the ledge. In fact, it could be reached from the upper floor after a jump of a few centimeters, but the problem had never been that. How was the Jester supposed to walk along a ledge only a few centimeters wide to reach its target? Yet, as Victor began to sigh in relief, the Jester jumped off the wardrobe. It hadn¡¯t tried the long jump event but had simply descended to the floor. Victor¡¯s ledge was more than 5 meters above the ground, but it seemed to have found a solution. Victor watched in horror as the Jester took a few steps back before launching itself towards the base of the wall on which he stood. The impact was rough, and the entire wall shook. Victor couldn¡¯t see the direct result of the Jester¡¯s charge, but he saw it in its gaping maw. There were pieces of wallpaper and plaster among its teeth. The Jester never took its eyes off Victor. It launched itself again. Foreign language detected - Complete more quotas for translation The sound of the impact never came. Or maybe it did, but Victor couldn¡¯t hear it. A tremor came from the depths of the earth, accompanied by a rumbling noise. Victor would never have guessed it was a language if not for the system''s voice. The rumbling noise enveloped the entire room with such intensity that Victor lost his balance. He toppled over and managed to grab the ledge with one of his hands at the last moment. However, he couldn¡¯t hold on for long. He could feel his consciousness fading under the pain. Then, there was laughter, and Victor fell into unconsciousness, his body crashing to the ground. Victor woke up in an unknown place. He thought he was seeing his inner self again, but the setting was completely different. ¡®Maybe it took my advice, but this isn¡¯t what I imagined,¡¯ thought Victor, curiously looking around. In fact, there was nothing around him. He was in a white, empty room with no windows or doors. ¡®I hope I¡¯m not in a coma,¡¯ Victor murmured, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. You are not in a coma, host, just unconscious! ¡®That¡¯s something, I guess,¡¯ Victor sighed, twiddling his thumbs. He just had to wake up, and it would happen at any moment, right? You won¡¯t be here for long. A voice rang in his ears. It was the same language Victor had heard just before losing consciousness, but now he could understand it. We will meet when you¡¯re ready. Victor stood up and said with utmost seriousness, ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡± The voice burst into laughter. It was a genuine, kind laugh without a hint of malice. You¡¯re far from ready, little one. ¡°And how am I supposed to know when I¡¯m ready? And where should I go? And how much money is there to earn?¡± The voice laughed again. I¡¯ll send someone to fetch you after the update. ¡°After the update? What update? And my money?¡± You ask too many questions. We¡¯ll meet again. In the meantime, good luck, Victor. ¡°How do you know my na¡ª¡± Victor woke up. He had fallen from a height of 5 meters. He could feel all the bones in his body, but nothing seemed broken. As he tried to get up, he saw a horrifying sight. He must still be in shock because it took him several seconds to notice something beneath him. It was something slimy and organic, a mass of flesh serving as a neck to a nightmarish head. The Jester¡¯s body had cushioned his fall. Victor scrambled away as far as he could without even standing up. He crawled for more than 5 meters before glancing back. The Jester hadn¡¯t moved an inch. Its body blocked the only exit, so Victor approached it after getting up. Still no movement. Victor stepped over the body and left the room without looking back. Returning to the entrance hall, he saw Olivia and the others rushing down the stairs. Shirley frowned at him. ¡°Why do I feel like there are bits of flesh in your hair?¡± Victor ran a hand through his hair. By touch and smell, he could tell it must belong to the Jester. He was about to respond when the mysterious man spoke. ¡°Let¡¯s go first. We¡¯ll talk outside.¡± He cast a quick glance behind him. With its legs and single cute arm, a small music box was following them. When it was just two meters away from the group, it stopped and began to play a gentle melody. Dan dan dan daaaaan, daaaaan dan dan da-da-da! Victor could feel his heart pounding faster after each note. ¡®I just hope the company will pay for a psychiatrist because I feel like this is going to turn into a trauma really quickly,¡¯ he grumbled internally, exiting through the door with the others. Chapter 20 : Last Day Quota 0/270 - Last Day 6:30 AM The day had left its marks. Victor had woken up several times during the night due to nightmares involving Jesters. He had gone through every horror movie scenario imaginable: a Jester breaking down his bathroom door with an axe in hand or a Jester swimming underwater like a shark, trying to eat him. He ended his night with dark circles reaching the base of his nose, without even the desire to go back to sleep. He managed to get out of bed, clutching his ribs with one hand. His bones creaked after yesterday''s fall, but it was the result of his failed jump that was really painful. "At least I''m still alive," Victor thought as he tried to get dressed. Every movement made him grimace and grit his teeth. However, the mysterious man had assured him the day before that nothing was broken and that the pain would be temporary. "I''ll have to schedule a doctor''s appointment as soon as I get back to France," Victor muttered as he took the elevator to join the others. As he crossed the hotel lobby to reach the restaurant, Charon, the receptionist, called out to him in impeccable French: "Good morning, Mr. De la Fayette. The hotel can provide you with painkillers for your last day if you wish." "Good morning, Charon. Are you a pharmacist in your spare time?" Victor asked. "I do many things in my spare time, Mr. De la Fayette, but being a pharmacist is not one of them," he replied with a cordial smile before adding, "It''s a service the hotel offers, and I¡¯m merely responsible for sharing it with you." "It''s unusual for a hotel to offer that, but don''t worry, I''m tough, so I shouldn''t need it." Victor made a slight hand gesture to demonstrate his point to the receptionist while inwardly thinking, "It really hurts like hell! I would¡¯ve gladly taken those meds, but I doubt they''re covered by my insurance." He continued on his way confidently, back straight and head held high, unaware that the medication would have been provided to him by the hotel branch manager. But Charon had refrained from telling him that, to avoid hurting his pride. Victor entered the restaurant. Usually, he would have followed the smell of pastries and fresh bread, but not today. Today, he headed straight for the person preparing the coffee. Victor still didn¡¯t speak English, but gestures should suffice for this kind of interaction. He greeted the man with a wave of his hand. The man smiled and greeted him back with a nod. Victor held up two fingers. The man pointed to different coffee beans, asking him to choose. Victor shrugged. The man then selected two different types of beans for each coffee. Victor watched him work with a vacant look. The man finished both coffees in record time. Victor gave him a thumbs-up. "Have a great day, Mr. De la Fontaine," the man said with a big smile. His French wasn¡¯t perfect, but it was perfectly understandable. Victor returned to his table, holding his ribs. His gaze was empty, and his shoulders seemed to sag toward the ground. ¡°**Don¡¯t worry, next time will be better,**¡± Shirley said, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. Victor couldn¡¯t understand what she was saying, but seeing her slight smirk, he didn¡¯t really want to know. He focused instead on the two cups of coffee in front of him, which he was going to struggle to swallow. Olivia was nibbling on her pastry, and the mysterious man was standing a few steps from the table, on the phone. He was speaking quietly in a foreign language that Victor didn¡¯t recognize. The call lasted only a few seconds. The man returned to the table with furrowed brows. He didn¡¯t speak about what had just happened, and no one asked him any questions. Even Shirley, who seemed to be a big fan of gossip, remained silent. The entire breakfast passed in this atmosphere. Victor sipped his coffee, grimacing; Olivia ate her pastry in small bites like a squirrel; the mysterious man frowned, and Shirley was bored. When Olivia finally finished her croissant, the group set off. They had already agreed the night before on the plan for the day. They would first explore dead ends in pairs before venturing into the maze. Once they started exploring the maze, Victor would stay near the entrance hall so he could quickly get out if there was a problem, despite his injuries. They had made this decision to ensure he would have time to escape if necessary. He would also handle carrying the loot bags to the entrance. That was the whole idea behind the strategy for the day. The journey to the interior was becoming almost automatic for the group. There were no suspicious footsteps outside, and they quickly reached the steel door. The man once again took ten minutes to overcome the lock. Once the steel behemoth was open, the quartet moved like a well-oiled machine. The dead ends took only about ten minutes, but the loot wasn''t great. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Hairbrush: x1 - value 14 Screw: x1 - value 23 They had only found two items, which weren¡¯t worth much. "Let¡¯s hope we don¡¯t encounter a Jester, or the day¡¯s going to be tough," Victor thought as he followed the group toward the door leading to the maze. The trio plunged into the labyrinth while Victor waited by the doorstep. He had left it open and turned around every ten seconds due to the trauma from the previous day. He didn¡¯t know if the Jester could sneak up behind him to scare him, but he wouldn¡¯t take the risk. "Just wait, you little bastard, one day I¡¯ll get my revenge," Victor muttered, gripping the shovel in his hands. He had brought one today to feel more secure. "Victor!" A shout snapped him out of his daydream. He grabbed a bag and headed in the direction of the noise. Since electronic devices weren¡¯t working, they hadn¡¯t found another solution. The mysterious man had even brought walkie-talkies, but something seemed to be blocking their signals. They had decided to shout to alert Victor if there was loot to be collected. As for the consequences, the system had answered Victor¡¯s question with one of its most reassuring phrases. Don¡¯t worry, host! Only a minority of creatures can hear you when you''re inside, and the Jester is not one of them! It had then fallen silent when Victor asked what creatures it was referring to. In summary, he needed to be prepared for anything, and the system hadn¡¯t reassured him at all. Victor was therefore heading toward the source of the shout, walking on tiptoe. Olivia had placed a painting on the ground, which was, once again, the same as the others. ''They need to start getting creative,'' Victor thought as he carried it back to the entrance hall. Painting: x1 - value 69 They had found more expensive ones before, but it was still a good start. Victor went back upstairs to get into position. The silence of the place was somewhat reassuring. However, Victor knew it wouldn¡¯t last. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong. For now, he waited in silence, a shovel in hand. ¡°Victor!¡± Shirley had called him with her strong American accent. ¡°I¡¯m coming!¡± She probably wouldn¡¯t understand what he meant, but it didn¡¯t matter. Victor dashed into the maze, following the sound of her voice. She couldn¡¯t be too deep inside, but he could only hear a faint murmur. The walls weren¡¯t thick, yet they had remarkable soundproofing. Victor approached the sound of her voice before noticing a problem. He had entered a large room. In one corner near the door stood a couch and a fireplace. A fire burned in the hearth, the sound of crackling wood filling the air. It wasn¡¯t the first time Victor had stumbled upon this room layout, but something was troubling him. He had already figured out from seeing three identical copies of the same painting that some elements in this place seemed to repeat. Painting: x1 - value 82 There was a painting in the middle of the room, lying on the floor, but no sign of Shirley. ¡°Something¡¯s not right¡­¡± Victor thought as he hurriedly picked up the painting from the floor. ¡°Victor!¡± He looked at the floor beneath him. ''There must be a room below me. I just have no idea how to get down there.'' There had to be a staircase somewhere inside the maze that could lead down, but Victor hadn¡¯t found it. ¡°You should bring your loot up yourself. I don¡¯t know how to get down!¡± ¡°**I found lots of money! Come join me to help carry it all up.**¡± Needless to say, two deaf people would have had a better chance of understanding each other. Just as Victor was about to leave the room and return to the entrance hall, a door creaked behind him. It had opened very slowly, with a sound that was far from not being creepy. ¡°I guess it¡¯s not a delivery guy wanting me to sign for a package¡­¡± Victor thought, frozen with fear. A creature had opened the door, but Victor hadn¡¯t managed to catch a glimpse of it. It hadn¡¯t made a sound as it approached the room, which worried Victor. ''At least it¡¯s not a Jester. That¡¯s something, I guess,'' he muttered as he gradually regained control of his limbs. He backed out of the room without even looking behind him. ¡°Victor!¡± ''It¡¯s going to take Victor a little while to arrive,'' he thought as he continued retracing his steps with his shovel and a painting in hand. He didn¡¯t know what was lurking in the shadows ten meters away from him, but someone seemed to know. Good luck, host ! You only need three shovel hits to defeat it, but be careful : it¡¯s very deceitful ! ¡°Why do I feel like it¡¯s really happy about my misfortune?¡± Victor didn¡¯t doubt that three hits with the shovel would be enough to kill it. The system had never lied to him about such crucial information, but it must have omitted on purpose equally important one. ''Deceitful huh ? We¡¯ll see what our mysterious guest is made of.'' As brave as he tried to appear, Victor kept backing away, keeping a close eye on his surroundings. He walked several hundred meters before feeling his back hit a wooden railing. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Victor?¡± It was Olivia. She had returned to the entrance hall after searching her entire section. She had arrived just a few seconds ago to see Victor backing up. It made for a rather amusing sight, but it was also a sign that something was wrong. ¡°Let¡¯s go find the others. Something opened a door right in front of me, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s friendly.¡± ¡°Did you see what the creature looked like?¡± ¡°No, the room was dark, and it didn¡¯t seem like it wanted to attack me head-on.¡± They had already re-entered the maze while they were talking. In moments like these, every second could count. ¡°**Victor has been targeted by an unwanted visitor! We have no idea how to defend ourselves, so we need to start getting out of here!**¡± ¡°**I¡¯m on my way!**¡± The mysterious man was the first to respond and join them. He was carrying a shoulder bag that didn¡¯t seem very heavy. He was scanning his surroundings every second, his eyes always alert to the slightest unexpected event. ¡°**Where¡¯s Shirley?**¡± he asked the other two as he arrived. The answer came from Shirley herself, who had just entered the room. She was carrying a cash register that must have weighed a shit ton and was likely the cause of her delay. ¡°**I found a kitchen with lots of items. Maybe we still have time to go get them.**¡± The man¡¯s watch indicated that they had already spent several hours inside. They could have left with their current loot and easily exceeded the desired quota, but they seemed to want more for a reason that escaped Victor. ''We should all already be financially comfortable for several months with our current loot. So why are they willing to take even more risks?'' He had never questioned his teammates'' motivations before, but today, he was. Especially after hearing young Olivia¡¯s response. ¡°Let¡¯s go get them before we leave if they¡¯re not too far away.¡± Chapter 21 : A dangerous flower Quota 0/270 - Last Day The depths were not very enticing, but the promised loot was a little too tempting to pass up. Victor, Olivia, and the man set off again to retrieve Shirley and all the treasure she seemed to have found. They walked quickly, taking care to thoroughly check each room from floor to ceiling before moving forward. Their extreme caution slowed them down, but at least it reduced their risk. The only concern for the small group now was that the longer they stayed in the labyrinth, the more creatures might notice them. For the moment, they couldn¡¯t hear any signs of one, except for the sound of doors being opened at regular intervals with a sinister creak. The group had learned to close the doors behind them to keep track of where the creature might be, but that wouldn¡¯t help if several creatures converged on them. Shirley¡¯s voice suggested she was close, yet it took the trio several dozen minutes to finally reach her. In fact, the staircase leading to her was hidden deep within the labyrinth. It also seemed to be the only way to access the next section of the maze. Once they had descended, it only took a few minutes to find Shirley. She was standing in a room with white tiles interrupted by black patterns. ''This looks like a kitchen,'' thought Victor, glancing at the layout of the space. There were several cabinets against one wall, an oven, and even a fridge. Beside all that stood a round table, several wooden chairs, and some sort of counter. Victor wasn¡¯t sure if something had ever come here to eat, but he definitely didn¡¯t want to find out. ''Let¡¯s grab the items and get out of here,'' he thought, searching the room for the objects they were supposed to retrieve. The reflection of light off the pristine tiles irritated his eyes, which had grown accustomed to the omnipresent darkness of the labyrinth. When he entered the room, the smell of cleaning products made him take a step back. But it was quickly masked by a much more pleasant and welcoming scent. ''Ahh, the sweet smell of money,'' sighed Victor in pleasure. There had to be six or seven objects in the kitchen. Victor could have stayed in that room for hours, breathing in that sweet scent. "But we don¡¯t have all day," he grumbled as he heard a door creak open a few rooms away. The creature was getting closer and faster. They still didn¡¯t know what it looked like or how to defend themselves against it. All that mattered now was collecting the loot and leaving as quickly as possible. In the kitchen, there were three lamps, a tube of toothpaste, some kind of golden cup, and a pocket mirror. Victor didn¡¯t even bother evaluating them using the system. He grabbed a lamp while the others took the rest and began to back out of the room. He had only taken a few steps and reached the kitchen entrance. Behind him, the rest of the group was still gathering their objects so they could leave. They didn¡¯t see the creature crouching in the adjacent room. But Victor did. "Mamma mia, what the hell is that thing?!" exclaimed Victor upon seeing the creature. It was black from head to toe, with white eyes that seemed to see through walls. As Victor felt every hair on his body stand on end, the creature stood up. It was even more terrifying now that Victor could see it fully. The creature was humanoid, with two jet-black arms that could probably crush a human in just a few seconds. Yet Victor doubted that was how it killed its victims. The creature had no mouth but rather some disturbing petal-like structures. They protruded from either side of its back like the wings of a demon. Once upright, the creature towered over Victor, standing several heads taller than him. Yet, it was trying to retreat and leave. Victor wouldn¡¯t have tried to stop it even if he could. The creature was backing out of the room, its eyes never leaving Victor for a single second. The silent confrontation lasted only a moment, but to Victor, it felt like an eternity. The staring contest could have gone on longer, but Victor could hear his heart beating faster and faster. ''Something¡¯s wrong!'' he screamed internally as he watched the creature stop just before exiting the room. It stared at him with those white eyes that gave him chills. He turned around, trembling, to look for his companions. Several drops of sweat beaded on his forehead, and his voice trembled. "We have a problem." He hadn¡¯t spoken very loudly, but his statement had the effect of a bomb on the other team members. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Even Shirley and the man, who couldn¡¯t understand what he meant, knew from his pale face that they had just encountered a problem. Olivia was the first to rush to Victor¡¯s side. She cast a cautious glance into the adjacent room, expecting to see a monster, but there was nothing. The creature had left the room the moment Victor had turned around. Shirley and the mysterious man joined them. Seeing the empty adjacent room, the man frowned. "What did you see, Victor?" But Victor didn¡¯t answer, too busy talking to a voice in his head. ''How do we defend ourselves from that one, oh wise and magnificient system?'' You just have to look at it, host, but not for too long! ''So I followed the right steps just now?'' You were mere milliseconds away from having a problem, but you survived! Isn¡¯t that what matters most? Good luck in your next encounter, host! ''So I need to look at it and then stop looking at it. The timing clues are vague enough to be typical system behavior,'' he grumbled as he snapped out of his thoughts. It was only then that he noticed Olivia and the others¡¯ worried expressions. "Something wrong?" he asked, puzzled. "We¡¯ve been calling your name for several seconds with no response. We thought you were having a mental breakdown." ''I guess it must look weird from the outside.'' He placed a reassuring hand on Olivia¡¯s shoulder. "I was just replaying the confrontation I had with the creature, little Olivia, and I think I¡¯ve figured out a solution!" She brushed his hand off and rolled her eyes. "Calling me ¡®little Olivia¡¯? Do you think you¡¯re Felix Maxwell?" she grumbled almost inaudibly. Victor didn¡¯t hear her and carried on as if nothing had happened. "If you see a black creature, look at it for a second and then look away." "How do you know that after just one interaction with it?" Olivia asked, a note of skepticism in her voice. "I just survived by using that method. Unless we find a better one in the future, there¡¯s no reason to change tactics." The mysterious man nodded after Olivia translated for him. As for Shirley, she didn¡¯t seem to be paying attention. With a lamp in her hand, she had pressed her ear against a wall, trying to better hear the sounds coming from the labyrinth. "It seems there¡¯s nothing around us for now, but we should hurry. I have a feeling we¡¯ll have company if we don¡¯t get out of here quickly." None of the group had any objections. Without making a sound and paying close attention to their surroundings, they began to retrace their steps. They lined up in single file. Shirley led the way, and Olivia covered the rear. Victor had given his shovel to Shirley so she could defend them in case of trouble. scritch scritch - scritch They stood before the staircase they had come down. The creature waiting for them above was making unsettling noises, but at least they could hear it. The black silhouette, however, was probably lurking somewhere in silence, waiting for the right moment to pounce. "At least it¡¯s not a Jester. I still wonder what we¡¯re dealing with," thought Victor, continuing to survey his surroundings. The noise didn¡¯t sound like a footstep but rather the movement of a paw. They began to ascend the stairs. If a creature attacked them now, they would have a hard time defending themselves due to the lack of space. But it was their only way out. They climbed together, keeping an eye on their rear. "Stop!" Shirley whispered urgently. It was only then that Victor realized what their new visitor must look like. In front of them was a huge spiderweb, more than a meter wide and nearly fifty centimeters tall. "Let¡¯s hope the spider that wove this isn¡¯t as big as its web," he murmured softly. Victor wasn¡¯t arachnophobic, but the idea of encountering a spider the size of a wolf didn¡¯t thrill him. "The little critter isn¡¯t going to eat the big one, right?" he grumbled under his breath. The web was right in the middle of the staircase. To avoid any risk, each member of the group climbed one by one over the stair railing to step around it. Once at the top, they saw their adversary. It was massive, its hairy legs each reaching a meter in length. It clung to a wall facing them, its two black, bulbous eyes fixed on the newcomers. plop plop The two grotesque fangs in front of the spider¡¯s mouth secreted a black, viscous liquid that splattered on the floor. It was above the only exit, flanked by several webs as if marking its territory. Shirley was the first to speak: "We¡¯re going to have to get rid of it." She placed her lamp on the ground, holding only the shovel now. A dark smile crept across her lips as she imagined the fight ahead. But before she could begin to fight, a voice interrupted her. It wasn¡¯t the valiant knight Victor with his heart of a lion, but Olivia¡¯s voice. "Give me that shovel, Shirley." There was a sharpness in her gaze that sent a chill down Victor¡¯s spine. He watched in shock as Olivia took the shovel from Shirley¡¯s hands and charged at the spider. The creature let out a high-pitched scream as it saw a human daring to challenge its territory. With surprising agility for its size, the spider lunged at Olivia in a fraction of a second. But she was even faster. Olivia dodged the attack with startling ease and struck the first blow. The flat of the shovel slammed into one of the creature¡¯s legs with incredible force. CLANG Olivia stepped back, frowning. The blow didn¡¯t seem to have done any damage to the creature, but it had made it furious. As Olivia dodged another brutal assault from the spider, she counterattacked, aiming for its head. THWACK This was no longer the sound of metal hitting something hard but the sound of metal striking an unprotected area. Once Olivia knew where to hit, the spider¡¯s death was only a matter of time. It didn¡¯t even try to flee; its eyes, blinded by rage, only wanted to tear apart the little human who defied it. THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK It took five strikes for Olivia to finish off the creature. The now-dead spider curled up into a ball. "Maybe it¡¯s worth some money..." thought Victor as he approached the corpse. No value ''It wouldn¡¯t have fit in the car anyway,'' he thought, reassuring himself. As he looked away from the spider to congratulate Olivia, he saw a shadow in the corner of his vision. It wasn¡¯t really a shadow but rather a sinister black figure creeping silently toward Shirley. It had taken advantage of the moment of distraction after the spider¡¯s death to crawl behind Shirley. "It¡¯s here, don¡¯t look at it!" Victor shouted as the figure rose to its full height. The rest of the group didn¡¯t ask any questions and quickly shut their eyes. Victor, however, looked down at the ground, counting the seconds. Only after waiting five seconds did he dare look around. He let out a deep sigh of relief upon seeing that the creature was gone. ''Let¡¯s just hope we don¡¯t run into it again anytime soon,'' Victor thought, cursing himself. Chapter 22 : Pitfalls Quota 0/270 - Last Day "You can open your eyes now," Victor announced to the group. They had just narrowly avoided disaster, but they needed to keep moving. Two creatures had attacked them one after the other, and quite a few more seemed to have been drawn by the noise. THOMP THOMP It was the heavy, dull sound of something large striking the ground at regular intervals. The noise was already getting closer. It likely wasn''t the only one, but it was the only one that had made its presence known. The others were hiding silently in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to spring an ambush. Without exchanging a word, the group resumed their journey. This time, they weren''t walking briskly but running. However, the run quickly turned back into a fast walk because of one person: Victor. The lamp in his hands didn''t help with running, but the real issue was him. With his sleepless nights and his physical condition resembling that of a walking corpse, it was a bit hard for him to keep up with his companions over a long distance. He had managed to keep pace with them for about fifty meters and was already out of breath by the end of that effort. The group had to slow down, even though the creature behind them was closing in. They were only a few hundred meters from the exit. Along the way, they didn''t encounter either the dark creature with flower-like petals or any new creature. However, the one behind them had almost caught up. In a final effort, they rushed toward the exit of the labyrinth. Victor was bent over, trying to catch his breath in large gulps of air. They had reached the entrance hall safely. There were no creatures in sight in the vast room. "Let''s grab the loot and get out of here," Victor thought as he picked up a random bag. The number of items they had collected must have been significant, judging by the pile of bags in front of the entrance door. The dead ends Victor and Olivia had explored hadn''t yielded many items, but the other two had filled three bags. Nothing seemed to have come to steal any of them. "Let''s hope no syllogomane larvae come by while we''re transferring everything," Victor thought as he walked toward the exit door. Everyone had slung a bag over their shoulder and was carrying a large object in their hands. The mysterious man had begun opening the door to take the rest of the items outside, the exterior tunnel looking much more inviting than the entrance hall. Especially after hearing the screech of the creature that was still rapidly approaching them. They managed to get the first four bags, three lamps, and a painting through the heavy lock. Just as the group was about to start their second trip, a monster burst into the entrance hall. GRRRROAAAAGH ! The roar sent a chill down Victor''s spine. The creature moved on two legs, but it could accelerate far faster than the spider. In fact, it was already upon them before the group could get the rest of the bags out. Olivia was the first to react. She rushed to grab the shovel that had been left on the pile of bags and positioned herself at the front of the group. The creature, meanwhile, continued to speed up. By the time it reached Olivia, it was moving at the speed of a train. However, Olivia was ready. With perfect timing and the flat of the shovel, she delivered a powerful blow to the creature rushing toward her. The force of the strike smashed the creature''s gaping maw into the ground. In its momentum, it tumbled over itself several times before crashing into the wall next to the entrance door with a heavy thud, making the entire hall shake. "Let''s go! We''ll come back for the rest later!" the mysterious man shouted, seeing the creature quickly regain its senses. The group rushed outside, with the man and Olivia closing the door in record time despite the creature''s screeching. Once the massive steel door was shut, for the first time in a long while, the group found themselves in silence. They could take a moment to discuss their next steps, but time was running out. The sun outside was already beginning to set. With the lamps they had found, they would be too easily spotted once night fell. They hadn''t found a way to deactivate them. All it would take was a single light-sensitive creature, and they''d be marching straight into a massacre. "Let''s start by bringing the lamps and one of the two paintings back. We''ll come back for the rest later," the mysterious man decided, checking his watch. 18:30 Victor frowned. It hadn''t seemed like they had spent that much time inside. "Everything seems distorted in there. I''d better buy a watch once I have the money, so I can keep track of time," Victor thought, glancing at the man''s watch. They began ascending the stairs. It was a bit of calm before the potential storm. Victor couldn''t do much to prepare for the dangers outside, but he could at least manage to climb the stairs. His sprint had already worn him out, and the stressful day hadn''t helped. "I really need to get back in shape when I get home if I want to last in this job," he muttered, focusing on his breathing. If he ever wanted to go on an expedition like this on his own, he wouldn''t even have the strength to open the entrance door. It was a bitter realization, but it was a thought he could dwell on once he was out of here. For now, he had made it to the top of the stairs. The others showed no signs of fatigue, as if climbing stairs wasn''t physically demanding at all. "They''re really something else," he grumbled, bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. The sun was already approaching the horizon. The light had begun to fade, and the lamps they carried were illuminating their surroundings. The situation was slowly worsening, but they couldn''t afford to be careless. They had heard footsteps coming from the forest on the first day, audible from the doorstep of the house, and none of them wanted to discover the size of the creature responsible. For now, they were tiptoeing through the forest. The mysterious man hadn''t deployed his drone to maintain maximum discretion. Every sound in the forest seemed sinister, from the whisper of the wind through the trees to the squirrels gnawing on their nuts. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.However, two sounds stood out, far louder than the rest. They were footsteps, but with different intensities. The first was relatively light, as if from an animal the size of a cow. The second, however... Thoom - Thoom - Thoom The entire forest vibrated after each step of the creature. It was the same sound of footsteps they had heard in the distance on the first day. But now, the noise was much louder, as the creature must have been much closer. Though they couldn''t see it, they occasionally crossed clearings where trees had been knocked down. The creature must have passed through, flattening everything in its path. It left behind colossal footprints in the damp soil. Thoom - Thoom - Thoom They could hear the creature walking somewhere to their left. It seemed able to move quickly through the dense forest despite its size. Even though Olivia had a rocket launcher in her bag, they weren''t confident it would be enough to kill it. The group began to veer to the right to try and avoid it. They walked for several minutes, trying to keep as far from the creature as possible. The detour added about 15 minutes to their journey. They had to pick up the pace as the sun was dangerously close to setting behind the horizon. As they approached their vehicle, the giant creature was far behind them, deep in the forest for the moment. However, it would only take a few strides for the situation to turn dire. They were just a hundred meters from the HUMVEE. But standing in their path was some sort of dog. It was the monster Olivia had encountered during her first quota. Victor wouldn''t have called it a dog, considering it was the size of a cow, but that was the first thing that came to mind when he saw the monstrosity. The creature moved with its head lowered as if sniffing the ground. Yet, it passed within a few steps of them without detecting their presence. As Olivia had mentioned, the dog was also blind. In complete silence, they slipped toward the HUMVEE. There were two other dogs roaming about ten meters away, but none of them heard the car doors open. They placed the lamps, the painting, and the bags in the back. There were still two bags and another painting waiting for them deep in the forest. 19:00 The light had faded significantly, but the mysterious man had a solution. From one of his bags full of gadgets, he pulled out a pair of night-vision goggles. They decided to go back to retrieve the remaining items. There was no need for everyone to go; two people would suffice. Olivia and the man would return to the forest. Shirley would stay at the HUMVEE, ready to start the engine so they could leave as soon as they returned. As for Victor, he would wait patiently in the back of the vehicle. He lacked the stamina and experience to run through the forest quietly, and he didn''t have Shirley''s driving skills. So, all he could do was sit in the back of the HUMVEE, hoping nothing bad would happen to them on their way. He spent several minutes with his ear pressed against the bulletproof window, trying to catch any sound from the forest. He could hear the giant creature walking. It was far away, but he still felt as though he could sense the vibrations of the ground even from that distance. It walked for several seconds at a time before stopping. Like a predator, it must have been using that time to check if any prey had slipped into its surroundings. After a short pause, it resumed its cycle again and again. That is, until Victor heard it start running. He could feel his heart tighten with every step the creature took. He had no way of knowing what had caused this sudden change in pace. All he knew was that the sound boded ill. Victor tried pestering the system for answers on what might have broken its cycle, but the system remained silent. It was an oppressive silence, interrupted only by the eerie footsteps of the creature in the distance. It had run for several seconds before suddenly going quiet. The creature didn''t resume walking until several seconds later, returning to an almost normal pattern. The waiting was becoming increasingly unbearable. Victor checked the time to try to calm his anxiety. 20:00 They had already been gone for nearly an hour. The sun had set a few minutes ago. It was a moonless night, and darkness enveloped the vehicle. Shirley hadn''t turned on the headlights. They waited in total silence and darkness. There was no way to contact the others. 20:30 Several dogs were prowling nearby. Since Shirley hadn''t started the engine, they occasionally passed beneath the windows without even noticing them. 21:00 "They should be back by now..." thought Victor, staring through the window. The longer it took, the louder Victor could hear his own heartbeat. They should have been back a long time ago. The giant creature was still moving in the distance, but its pattern was no longer consistent. It kept running and stopping, as if searching for something. It seemed to have picked up their scent again. Thoom - Thoom - Thoom Thoom - Thoom - Thoom THOOM - THOOM - THOOM Victor frowned. He could see the creature''s silhouette rising above the treetops, approaching them at high speed. "Why is it coming straight for us?" he wondered, looking outside. He couldn''t see anything in the darkness, but he could hear the dogs growling. The colossal creature had now left the forest, and in a few seconds, it would be upon them. As Victor watched it approach, two silhouettes leapt onto the windshield. "GO, GO, GO, Shirley!" shouted the mysterious man, pounding on the hood. She seemed to have been waiting for this moment with anticipation. "EVERYONE HOLD TIGHT!" she screamed before slamming down the gas pedal. The HUMVEE roared to life with a deafening sound, catching the attention of all the nearby dogs. Despite its weight and armor, the metal beast was anything but slow. In fact, Shirley must have modified it so much that it would beat most of its rivals off the starting line. The HUMVEE shot backward like a bullet, hitting a dog that was in its path. The rest of its companions had already lunged at the vehicle. One of the closest dogs managed to slam into the door. The metal dented from the force of the impact, but the door held. The HUMVEE then sped forward like a cheetah. Olivia and the mysterious man clung tightly to the windshield wipers. In just a few seconds, Shirley had left most of the creatures behind. She skillfully dodged the dogs that tried to block her path and drove through the entrance gate. Victor glanced out the window at the advancing creatures. They had managed to escape, but the creatures would continue to hunt them down across the city. Worse, they would maybe kill about a quarter of New York''s population along the way. As Victor watched them approach the gate in fear, they suddenly vanished. It wasn''t due to a lack of visibility because the taillights were illuminating the scene. They had simply disappeared, as if erased from the surface of the Earth. Chapter 23 : Time for rewards Quota 0/270 - Last Day They had survived the three days. The last day had been tense, but they had managed to gather more loot. Victor wasn¡¯t sure if it had been worth it, but he was certainly glad it was over. Shirley must have felt the same way because she stopped in the middle of the road. It wasn¡¯t very late, but there wasn¡¯t a car in sight. She got out of the vehicle, picked up Olivia, and lifted her into the air. The young woman had been taking off her night-vision goggles and didn¡¯t expect the sudden assault. She had a blank stare as she was tossed into the air. Shirley only stopped after several seconds. She placed Olivia back on the ground and gave her a light flick on the forehead. ¡°You scared us! Why did it take you so long to come back?¡± Olivia was still in shock from what had just happened. The man climbed down from the windshield to answer in her place. He had also removed his goggles, and a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction could be seen in his eyes. ¡°The giant creature didn¡¯t want to leave us alone. It stayed near the trapdoor without ever really leaving. We tried several times to use the trees to slip out of its sight, but it spotted us every time. Once we realized we couldn¡¯t escape without being seen, we ran as fast as we could, hoping to be quick enough.¡± He tapped the painting he was holding in one of his hands. ¡°It wasn¡¯t easy with that pesky brat and the bags, but I must admit the trees helped us a lot.¡± The man went to put them in the trunk while Victor got out of the car. ¡®All¡¯s well that ends well,¡¯ he thought with a smile on his lips as he watched the interaction between Shirley and Olivia. ¡°Now all we have left to do is sell.¡± It was only when Victor spoke that Olivia came back to her senses. The day wasn¡¯t over until they had sold their quota. They had one more day to sell, but the sooner they got it done, the sooner they could relax. Victor didn¡¯t know if there had been any cases of theft before. All he knew was that he¡¯d sleep better tonight if they sold everything immediately. ¡°That¡¯s a good idea, Victor. Let¡¯s sell now, and then we can grab something to eat to celebrate,¡± Olivia announced, stepping a meter away from Shirley. ¡°Everyone, back in the car!¡± Shirley replied, taking the wheel again. Victor and Olivia slipped into the back while the mysterious man took the passenger seat. There were so many paintings, lamps, and bags in the back that they were still cramped despite the size of the vehicle. After about ten minutes of driving, they arrived. Shirley hadn¡¯t felt the urge to exceed the speed limit for even a second. Her vehicle already stood out enough in the urban landscape of New York; it would be a shame if they got pulled over so close to their goal. The front of the company hadn¡¯t changed. Victor thought they might have trouble seeing Dine at this hour, but his fears were unfounded. She was waiting for them firmly behind her desk. Either she had been informed of their arrival in advance, or she lived behind her desk. ¡®At least she doesn¡¯t have to go down into the galleries,¡¯ Victor thought, imagining working in her place. Then he remembered he would have to live behind a desk forever. ¡®Oh well. Let¡¯s sell everything we¡¯ve recovered and go eat.¡¯ The mysterious man had tried to chat with their host, but she quickly cut him off. ¡°You¡¯re here to sell, and I must admit I¡¯d like to finish this day too.¡± Dine had in the corner of the room the same machine that Experimentation had in Lille. They had brought with them all the items they could carry to start selling. Painting: x1 - value 82 Hairbrush: x1 - value 14 Screw: x1 - value 23 . . . Painting: x1 - value 69 They had sold their first batch of about twenty items. Dine returned to her desk and pulled a calculator from one of her drawers. She typed at lightning speed on the keys to get the total. ¡°You¡¯ve sold 20 items for a total value of 900. It¡¯ll take me a few more seconds to calculate your pay,¡± she announced before continuing her calculations. ¡°Excuse me, Ms. Dine, but we still have more items to sell,¡± Shirley said, trying not to offend the secretary. In fact, they had only sold the loot from the last day. Dine raised her head from her calculator. ¡°Why are you standing there doing nothing if you still have items left? Go get them.¡± They returned to the vehicle to bring the rest. In fact, they had to make two more trips to sell everything. The main culprits were the two cash registers and the various two-handed items they had recovered during the first two days. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Dine continued her additions on the calculator until all the items were sold. They had found 613 the first day and only 451 the second, thanks to the Jester. In total, they had sold for 1,964. After spending several minutes doing calculations, Dine announced their final payment. ¡°**All in all, you¡¯ve sold for a total value of 8,189,290 dollars, which is a little over 2 million per person. For Olivia, the money will be transferred to the orphanage¡¯s account as agreed, and for the rest, the money will be in your accounts in three days.**¡± Olivia translated the amount to Victor. ¡°Do we have to pay taxes?¡± he finally asked Dine, already imagining himself a millionaire. Surprisingly, she replied in perfect French. She didn¡¯t have the slightest American accent, as if she had lived in France for several years. ¡°You don¡¯t have to worry about that, Mr. de La Fontaine. In your case, everything you¡¯ve just earned will go to your father¡¯s creditors.¡± ¡°How much is my current debt?¡± ¡°A little over 98 million euros. But look on the bright side, Mr. de La Fontaine, 50 quotas like this, and you¡¯ll be free. At least you¡¯re lucky there are no interest rates or time limits to pay off the debt.¡± Victor had never known that his father¡¯s debt was that high. ¡®What the hell did you buy for 98 million euros, Dad?!¡¯ he grumbled, feeling dejected. And then he remembered an important detail. He had sold 251 to Experimentation for 5,000 euros, and now they had just sold 1,964 for over 8 million. "Why did we earn so much money anyway? Does it have something to do with the zone where we completed the quota?" "No, the only thing that matters is the total number you sell and the amount of your quota. Now, if you wouldn''t mind leaving, it might not look like it, but I had something planned for this evening." With those words, the group was politely shown out. They found themselves on the sidewalk, with Dine shutting the door behind them. Shirley and the mysterious man had just earned several million dollars each, but neither of them seemed concerned. ¡®I guess both their families are rich given the resources they have at their disposal. Maybe I just underestimated their level of wealth,¡¯ Victor thought while pondering his own financial troubles. Meanwhile, the rest of the group had already decided where they would go to eat. They opted for a high-end restaurant. They stopped by the hotel to change before heading out. After spending several hours crawling through a forest, Olivia and the mysterious man were more than happy to take a shower. By the time everyone was ready, it was already 10 PM. Olivia''s driver was waiting at the bottom of the hotel steps with a sedan to take them to the restaurant. The restaurant''s name was **Lumi¨¨re on Central**, and it was located right across from the famous New York park. For this kind of restaurant, it was normal to wait several months for a reservation. Someone in the group must have pulled some strings behind the scenes to get the spot. It wasn¡¯t Shirley, the mysterious man, or obviously Victor, but Olivia who had secured their reservation. Apparently, the restaurant owner was a regular client of **Promesse** and owed her a favor. What kind of favor? Victor didn¡¯t know, and he wasn¡¯t about to ask someone who constantly carried at least one firearm. They settled at a table upstairs. When Victor saw the prices on the menu, he couldn¡¯t help but ask aloud: ¡°You guys are going to pay for me, right?¡± He threw a pleading look at Shirley, who was seated across from him. ¡°**What¡¯s he saying, Olivia?**¡± Shirley asked the only person who could translate for her. ¡°**He¡¯s for you to pay for him.**¡± ¡°**Isn¡¯t it supposed to be the other way around?**¡± Shirley was confused. Olivia hadn¡¯t translated the conversation between Victor and Dine, so Shirley had no idea he was broke. ¡°**That¡¯s how it works in France**,¡± Olivia finally replied to save Victor''s dignity. ¡°**Oh... okay. I¡¯ll pay for him. But why did he ask me and not you?**¡± ¡°**I gave all my money to the orphanage, so technically you earned more than me today.**¡± She then turned to Victor to share the good news. Even though he knew Shirley would cover his meal, the prices still scared him. Every dish cost over $200, so Victor started eyeing the appetizers. ¡®Why are the appetizers more expensive than the main courses at a regular restaurant?!¡¯ he screamed internally as he saw the foie gras priced at an exorbitant $70. The desserts weren¡¯t any better. The cheapest one was a raspberry mousse for $20. While Victor was scouring the drinks menu, a waiter arrived to take their orders for drinks. Shirley and Olivia ordered cocktails, non-alcoholic for the young Olivia, while the man ordered a Pinot des Charentes. Only Victor was left to order. ¡°Tap water, please,¡± he requested, looking at the waiter. It was the only free item he had found on the entire menu. The waiter looked back at him without writing anything down, still maintaining a polite smile, but not speaking a word of French. Victor looked to Olivia with pleading eyes. ¡°**What appetizers do you have that might please a Frenchman visiting New York for the first time?**¡± she asked. ¡°**We have a Chardonnay from the region that Monsieur might enjoy if he¡¯s a wine enthusiast.**¡± She turned to Victor. With his pale complexion, he looked as though he was either going to faint or die on the spot. ¡°**I¡¯m not sure something with alcohol would be good for him. He¡¯ll have the same cocktail as me**,¡± Olivia decided. ¡°**Very well, Madame. I¡¯ll be right back with your order.**¡± The waiter disappeared. Judging by the smirk on Olivia''s face, Victor knew he wasn¡¯t going to get his tap water. Indeed, the waiter returned moments later with a Pinot and three cocktails. He placed one in front of Victor, who had reopened the menu to check the price. He only stopped when Olivia took the menu from his hands. She even went so far as to ask the waiter for a menu without prices for Victor. The meal went smoothly in a pleasant atmosphere. Victor had ordered from memory¡ªthe appetizer, then the main course, and finally the cheapest dessert on the menu. He had to admit the meal was delicious, but he didn¡¯t like the feeling of being indebted. ¡®It¡¯s strange for someone with tens of millions in debt to think like this,¡¯ he thought as he finished the last bite of his dessert. He had never known the full amount of his debt before today. One day, he had received a letter informing him that he was in debt, but it didn¡¯t specify the creditors or the amount he had to repay in his father¡¯s name. The waiter returned to the table with the bill. They were the last customers in the entire restaurant. The restaurant should have closed about fifteen minutes ago, but the owner had insisted on not disturbing them. He had promised good bonuses, so the waiter was more than happy to serve even after 11 PM. ¡®I¡¯ll treat Shirley to a meal one of these days, just maybe not in a place like this...¡¯ Victor thought as he glanced at the total on the bill. Chapter 24 : The system reward Quota 0/391 - 27 days left to start the quota They had just left the restaurant. While Victor was still thinking about the new debt he had just incurred, a car approached the group. It wasn''t Olivia''s car, which was still waiting for them nearby, but a white Fiat Panda. In the front sat a man in his fifties with a massive beard. Once he reached them, he turned off the engine before getting out of the car. "How''s it going, kids?" he asked them. He had gotten close enough for Victor to notice the bulging muscles protruding from his t-shirt. "Did you have a good day?" He rested his elbow on Shirley''s shoulder, trying to seem cooler. No one responded, expecting a violent reaction from Shirley. But she did nothing, simply lowering her head. "Lost your tongues, kids? That''s okay! You can just point out which one of you is her boyfriend." "Stop it, Dad!" Victor couldn''t see Shirley''s face, but it must have been a mix of red with embarrassment and green with anger. ''Red and green must make some kind of brownish tint...'' Victor thought, lost in his thoughts. "What''s the problem, sweetie? Is your old man ruining the vibe?" "Yes!" The answer was a bit too abrupt, leaving the man no chance. He took his elbow off his daughter''s shoulder, sensing the awkwardness in the air. "I''m sorry, Shishi, if I embarrassed you in front of your friends." He apologized with genuine sincerity, but Shirley''s face only grew more closed off. "Shishi is a cute nickname..." Olivia thought out loud. Shirley shot her a dark look before turning back to her father. "Since when are you back in the United States?" The man glanced at his watch before answering her. "I landed at JFK Airport at 10:31 p.m., so I''ve been back in New York for exactly 46 minutes." "And you decided to come see me right after getting off the plane." "Of course!" "Why didn''t you wait until tomorrow morning?" Shirley''s father seemed puzzled. "Tomorrow morning I wouldn''t be able to see your friends to thank them." He turned towards Victor and the rest of the group and bowed. "Thank you for taking care of my daughter during the three days of the quota." They felt a bit awkward, seeing Shirley''s father bow before them to thank them, especially when Shirley rolled her eyes behind his back. "Listening to you, it sounds like I was a burden to them for three days." She grabbed her father by the ear and dragged him toward the car. The man could have probably resisted, but he was too busy begging "Shishi" to let go of him. "Alright guys, see you tomorrow morning at the hotel for breakfast," she announced before getting into the car with her father. She didn''t even let him drive, as if she didn''t trust his driving skills. ''That must be one of the weirdest father-daughter duos,'' thought Victor as he watched the Fiat Panda turn at the end of the street. Now there were only three of them left. A black sedan had already arrived several minutes earlier to pick up the mysterious man. However, with Shirley''s father''s appearance, the man had stayed a few extra minutes. "I''m going to head out too," he told them. He pulled his hands out of his coat pockets to shake hands. He started with Olivia before turning to Victor. "Have a good rest of your evening, Victor." - Thanks, you too, mysterious man!" This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. It was only after hearing Olivia''s translation that the man finally gave his name to Victor, weeks after their first meeting. "My name is Nathaniel, but my close friends call me Nate." With those words, he walked away to join his driver, who had opened the door of the sedan for him. ''Nathaniel it is I guess.'' thought Victor before leaving. They headed back to the hotel with Olivia''s car. Once in the lobby, they greeted Charon before going up to their respective rooms. Victor was so tired that he should have fallen asleep immediately. However, the system had decided to start speaking in his head. Congratulations, host! You survived! ''Thanks, system, but what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice at this late hour?'' Victor had badgered the system a few hours earlier with no response. He held a slight grudge against it, which would require more than kind words to disappear. It''s time for you to receive your rewards! ''That''s a good start for making it up to me. I just hope your gifts will meet my expectations,'' Victor threatened with a big smile. He had no way to act on his threat, but maybe he''d find a way in the future. First, host, you''ve earned 2,287 points to spend in the shop! ''We''re not going to get very far if all I can buy is lamps and shovels,'' Victor grumbled as he looked through the shop tab. He had hoped the system would sell new items, like a rocket launcher for example, but no. It was either a shovel or a lamp. But not just any lamp ¡ª a pro-fes-sio-nal one! ''You don''t seriously expect me to buy something like 80 shovels, do you, my dear system?'' Victor asked, feeling his blood pressure rise. Technically, host, they''re 50% off. So you could buy precisely 152 instead of 76. Victor took a deep breath to calm himself. ''I already bought 11, and I can barely move them. I don''t see what I''d do with 163 shovels besides building an army. Don''t you have anything else in stock?'' he asked, with little hope. I''m in alpha version, host! But now that you''ve completed your first quota, my creator will update me. You should find your favorite items and more once the installation is complete! ''And how long do you think that will take?'' One night at most, host. You''ll find me fully operational tomorrow morning when you wake up! Victor closed his eyes again. ''Go update yourself and let me sleep in peace, then,'' he thought, trying to fall asleep. One second, host, I wasn''t finished with your rewards! He reluctantly opened his eyes. A holographic screen had appeared right above his face. It was a kind of pie chart with two colors. There was a red section and a blue section. The system had hastily drawn a Jester on the first section and a Looting bug on the second. The drawings were so bad that it took Victor several seconds to figure out what they were supposed to represent. ''What am I even looking at?'' Victor thought, half bewildered. This, host, is a pet wheel! The creature you land on will become your most loyal servant¡ªwithin its means! All the creatures you defeated by your own hand during your quota appear on this wheel. Then, you''ll just need a bit of luck to get the one you''ve always dreamed of! ''Sounds great, but why is the Jester on my wheel when I didn''t kill one?'' He had stepped over the Jester''s corpse on the second day, but he wasn''t its killer. The Jester is immune to your attacks, so you can never kill one! Other creatures like the Coil-head are also invulnerable, but you can still get them. The system is lenient in such cases! All you need is to be one of the main causes of their death! ''I don''t understand.'' Let me explain, host. The Jester on the second day died because it angered the owner of the place. But it angered him by trying to get to you, so you are one of the main causes of its death. Therefore, it has its place on today''s pet wheel! ''So I''ll have to find a way to kill a Coil-head?'' Victor asked. That''s up to you, host! You survived your encounter with the Jester by luck. So maybe a bit more planning is needed before taking on a Coil-head. Victor frowned. He had thought about doing the same thing to a Coil-head as he did to the Jester, but the system''s words made him doubt his plan. ''Forget it, Victor, you''ll think about it the next time you run into a Coil-head...'' he told himself, trying to stay calm. He had only encountered one so far, which was locked in a box. Even though the system had told him how to defend against it, he still lacked practical experience. ''Spin the wheel, system. I''m warning you, I''ll curse you if I land on the Jester.'' Victor had had enough nightmares over the last night to dream about the Looting bug. The thought of waking up with a Jester by his bedside every morning gave him chills. The wheel began to spin. It spun very quickly at first before gradually losing speed. After about ten seconds, it stopped. The pointer froze at the junction between the two sections. Victor had to get closer to the holographic screen to be sure, but it had indeed stopped on the blue section. Well done, host! You just won a Jester. It''s a pretty complex pet, but it can be useful in many situations! ''Can it at least help me kill other monsters?'' Victor asked, who would have preferred at this point the cute Looting bug. No, host! ''Can I sell it for money?'' No, host! ''Then how is it any useful?'' he asked, starting to get frustrated. That, host, is for you to discover! Before Victor could continue grilling the system, the Jester appeared at the foot of his bed. It looked exactly like the ones he had encountered during the first two days. For a moment, he imagined himself running through the hotel corridors with the horrific creature chasing after him. However, the Jester remained still. It hadn''t tried to wind up its music box, simply staring at Victor. It didn''t seem able to communicate but was waiting for Victor''s commands. ''Can''t it just disappear?'' Victor asked the system. He couldn''t imagine going through life with a Jester following him around. It was a matter of both mental health and how others would perceive him. He wasn''t sure how long he could remain free with such a pet. He''d probably be locked up in some desert prison by people wanting to study the Jester. You only need to wish for it to disappear or reappear, and the magic will happen. You can do this as long as you have your keychain on you! ''What do you mean by my keychain, dear system?'' Ask for it to disappear, and you''ll see what I mean, host! Victor followed the system''s instructions. The Jester vanished before Victor could even blink. It had turned into a keychain with a figure of the Jester at the end of the chain. Once you have more pet creatures, you''ll be able to add them to your keychain so you''ll always have them with you! ''And if I lose my keychain and someone else gets it?'' That would suck, host! Try not to lose it! With that, the system began its update. Chapter 25 : Someone said ice cream ? Quota 0/391 - 26 days left to start the quota Victor woke up after a good night¡¯s sleep. The sun had been up for several hours, but Victor kept sleeping. After spending several days getting up early, combined with the ever-present jet lag, he had built up quite a sleep debt. Victor could have continued sleeping until noon if the other group members hadn¡¯t wanted to have breakfast together. So, with great difficulty, he got up and dragged himself into the bathroom. The bags under his eyes had receded by a few centimeters, but not enough to make him look like a living being. There was only one detail that made him smile in the mirror: he had hit his second quota with this appearance. With impeccable physical condition, he would probably have no problem meeting the following quotas. ''I¡¯m not sure if 26 days will be enough, but it¡¯s a good start,'' he thought as he got dressed. He didn¡¯t expect to reach the same level as the others, but if he could already run more than a hundred meters, it would improve his chances of survival. I¡¯m back, host! ''That¡¯s strange, my dear system. I¡¯m hopeful about your update, but at the same time, I feel like I¡¯m going to get screwed.'' Don¡¯t worry, host! I¡¯m now in beta with many new features and items available for sale. ''What are all these new things you¡¯re promising me?'' Give me a moment, host! Victor held his breath for several seconds, waiting for a response. I¡¯ve got the information you requested, host! The update adds two items to my countless features in the store. It¡¯s not much, but you surely won¡¯t be disappointed! ''They better be good...'' Victor thought as he clicked on the store tab on the holographic screen. Walkie-Talkie // Price: 12 Jetpack // Price: 700 Your balance // 2287 "There aren¡¯t any other new features?" he asked before buying everything. It would be a disaster if he discovered a new paid feature after spending all his balance on the Jetpack. Nothing else for now, host! The update did add a very useful new paid feature, but you don¡¯t meet the conditions to take advantage of it. ''And what am I supposed to do to unlock it?'' That¡¯s a secret, host, but I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll die before you figure it out! Victor might have punched the holographic screen and shattered the mirror behind it if his arm wasn¡¯t still hurting. So he contented himself with threatening the system verbally as he left his room. It was his last night at the hotel. He grabbed his bag containing his few belongings and headed for the elevator. The freshness and permanent cleanliness of the place would be missed a little less if he had to pay for his stay himself. He hadn¡¯t received another mysterious envelope containing a plane ticket either, so he was currently stuck in New York. "Maybe I¡¯ll need to talk to the manager to be able to get back to Lille," he thought as he stepped into the lobby. The one and only Charon was still standing behind the reception desk. ¡°I hope you had a pleasant stay at our branch, Mr. de la Fayette. Miss Olivia and the rest are already waiting for you inside the restaurant.¡± Victor thanked him before joining the others. He figured he would have time to talk with them before requesting a meeting with the branch manager. Maybe he could work a few weeks as a waiter to pay for his return trip. He would then have little time left to reach the place where he had to complete his quota, but he didn¡¯t really have a choice. Unless, of course, someone came to his aid. He joined the others at their table after grabbing something to eat. Charon hadn¡¯t told him how long they had been waiting, but Shirley hadn¡¯t specified a precise time the night before. Olivia was the only one who had started eating, slowly nibbling on a croissant with both hands. She was eating so slowly that she would still be nibbling on it even after Victor finished his breakfast. ¡°**Finally, Victor! I hope at least you had a good night¡¯s sleep,**¡± Shirley sighed, trying to scold him. However, because of her radiant smile, she had trouble hiding her happiness at having completed a quota without losing anyone. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. She also had an issue with Olivia, who was completely absorbed by her croissant. She was too busy nibbling to give Victor anything but a mumbled translation. As for Nathaniel, he was staring into space. It took Shirley nudging him to make him notice Victor¡¯s arrival. He removed his black glasses and gloves. He gave Victor a firm handshake before starting to eat. Shirley pursed her lips upon seeing that almost everyone had already started eating. She would have liked to talk with Victor, but the chief translator was off in her own world. So, she had to wait until she finished her croissant before they could begin talking. ¡°What are you planning to do now?¡± Victor asked them once Olivia had finished wiping her mouth. They might not want to jump into another quota right away, but that wasn¡¯t the case for him. The traces of his father would soon fade, and he needed to act quickly if he wanted a chance to find him. In response to his question, the other group members raised their eyebrows. They looked at him with a mix of confusion and amusement. Shirley was the one who explained the situation to him. ¡°But Victor... we¡¯re leaving for Siberia tomorrow.¡± His shock was palpable. ''What the hell is going on?'' he screamed internally. He had no problem going to Siberia, but he would have liked to know in advance. Well, actually, he did have a problem with Siberia. There was probably nothing there except vast stretches of tundra, snow, and bears. Victor wasn¡¯t particularly eager to face any of the three. Before he could express his opinion and reluctance, Charon had approached their table. He had entered the restaurant a few seconds earlier without anyone noticing his presence. ¡°Monsieur de la Fayette, if you would kindly follow me, the manager is waiting for you in his office.¡± Victor jumped when he heard a voice behind him. He stood up from the table and began to follow Charon. He frowned as he entered the manager¡¯s office, still thinking about Siberia when Charon left the room, closing the door behind him. ¡°I hope your stay at our branch has been pleasant, Monsieur de la Fayette.¡± He exuded an unshakable charisma that commanded attention. Without even giving Victor time to respond, he continued speaking with a smile on his face. ¡°Before we discuss your trip to Russia, you might want to read this letter,¡± he announced, handing him an envelope. He didn¡¯t exchange any pleasantries and jumped straight to the point. After handing over the letter, he sat in the chair across from Victor, holding a cup of coffee. Even he was somewhat curious to know what was inside the envelope. There was no addressee on the white envelope, just Victor¡¯s name written in black ink. It was the same handwriting as the small note he had received in Lille. The person who had brought him to New York was likely the same one sending him to the far reaches of Siberia. He opened the envelope. This time, there were no new badges or plane tickets, just a few words on a sheet of paper. You will depart for Siberia tomorrow morning. You will be with the same team for an expedition in the Rend zone. Once you arrive, you¡¯ll have several days to prepare. If you succeed, you will come a little closer to the truth. I also suggest you discuss with your teammates how to divide the rewards, as some are not after money. Best of luck, Victor. The letter didn¡¯t contain much. In fact, Victor was quite surprised at how little information it held. He still didn¡¯t know who was behind these letters or why they were relying on him to meet the quotas. He learned only two things from the letter. First, some of his teammates were not risking their lives in the galleries for money. Victor had already suspected this on their last day in Dine, and now he had confirmation. However, he still didn¡¯t know more. He had no idea what their motivations were, although he didn¡¯t care much. They were there to meet their quota, and the same was true for him. Second, he learned a little more about the person behind all this. They had to be powerful enough to smuggle them into Russia. Even though they were going far from the front with Ukraine, it wasn¡¯t an easy task to get into Russia. Victor closed the envelope. The manager handed him a lighter with a smile. In just a few seconds, the envelope was reduced to a pile of ashes. ¡°I wish you a pleasant journey, Monsieur de la Fayette. You will probably spend some time in the Siberian branch of the hotel, so be sure to greet Manager Dulgynov on my behalf.¡± Charon returned to the room to escort Victor out. After a simple handshake with the manager, Victor left the office. He had entered frowning and left still frowning. The intensity had decreased but had not disappeared entirely. ¡°We¡¯ll see what the future holds,¡± he sighed, rejoining the others. They were sitting at the same table, having not moved since he had left. They were talking quietly about their trip to Siberia. Shirley was talking about renting a tank, Nathaniel about all the gadgets that might be useful in the middle of the tundra, and Olivia about firearms. It didn¡¯t seem to be an issue for the young woman to acquire truckloads of weapons in any situation. And, to be honest, if given a choice, Victor would prefer to face a giant with a tank or a rocket launcher truck rather than a shovel. Even if, with a bit of luck, there wouldn¡¯t be any giants on Rend. The more the conversation progressed, the more Victor realized how little information he had received. The others already knew the route, the departure and arrival times, and even the area they had to reach for the quota. The only thing Victor could contribute to the group was items. The shovels had been quite useful during the last quota. With the system¡¯s update, he could now offer the rest of the group walkie-talkies and maybe one or two jetpacks. ¡°Do they work in the galleries? What¡¯s their range? Will they work in the middle of the tundra? Are the frequencies encrypted? How long do the batteries last?¡± All these questions seemed to be of great concern to Nathaniel. Victor had no answers. His hesitation showed on his face, even as the system whispered the answers to him. ¡°You¡¯ll have to let me run a battery of tests on them before we leave,¡± Nathaniel announced, leaving Victor with no choice. ¡°Let me go get them, and they¡¯re all yours,¡± Victor replied, standing up for the second time. He needed to return to his room. Even though the group had encountered strange events, they probably weren¡¯t ready to see objects materialize out of thin air. Once back in his room, he purchased four walkie-talkies. Thank you for your patronage, host! Your order will be delivered by your courier in a few minutes! ''What do you mean, courier?'' Victor thought as he looked out the window. An ice cream truck had just turned the corner. Chapter 26 : Commandant Thomas Anderson Victor stepped out of his hotel room. The sound of the ice cream truck grew louder and louder as it approached, to the point where Victor began to wonder. "Why is no one reacting?!" he asked himself while descending the hotel stairs. Victor had no doubt that the people around him could see the truck, as many turned their heads curiously to watch it pass by. What he questioned, however, was their hearing. The moment the truck entered the street, Victor could hear it even while sitting in his well-insulated hotel room. If he could hear it so clearly from hundreds of meters away, surely the whole neighborhood could hear its sweet music. Yet, he seemed to be the only one hearing it at such an intense volume. At least, that''s what Victor told himself to ease his mind, not wanting to be responsible for a sudden spike in hearing loss cases in the neighborhood. ''Why did you make it so loud?'' Victor asked the system. The truck¡¯s music was so loud in his ears that he was starting to get a headache. I programmed it so the host could locate it and head toward it before it left. ''So I also have a limited amount of time to retrieve the delivery?'' Victor thought, bewildered. Exactly host! You have exactly one hour to collect your package before the delivery driver leaves with it. ''Can¡¯t he just leave it on the ground instead of taking it back?'' he asked, feeling dejected. No, host, the delivery must be made in person to prevent someone from stealing your items. ''I have a few questions, my dear system, and I hope you¡¯ll shed some light on this for me. Does the driver come back later with my items if I miss them the first time? No, dear host. ''Am I entitled to a refund?'' No, host. ''Can I file a complaint?'' No. "So am I supposed to understand that to protect me from theft, you¡¯re the one stealing from me without giving me any chance?" Don¡¯t waste too much time host, or the truck might leave with your walkie-talkies! ''Don¡¯t change the subject, little system. You said I had an hour to pick up my items, so we do have plenty of time to talk!'' Victor had a wide grin on his face, though it didn¡¯t look very friendly. Meanwhile, in a police station just a few steps away, Commander Anderson was lost in his thoughts. It wasn''t until several minutes later that he finally made a decision. He got up, put on his coat that he still hadn''t had time to change and went out into the street. He hadn¡¯t driven to work that morning, so he called for a taxi. Five short minutes later, he was already seated in the back seat, on his way to his destination. He had already gone to see his friend in person for more information about the Johnsons, but he had still refused to talk. He must have received pressure from one of his superiors as well, so Thomas didn''t hold it against him. Still, he wanted answers. Why were they so powerful? Where did their wealth come from? Why did they have connections with such high-ranking officials in the police? And all of these questions were surely just the tip of the iceberg. Thomas glanced outside. They had already left the city, the vast housing developments of suburban homes having already turned into fields stretching as far as the eye could see. ''The bill is going to hurt...'' he grimaced while looking at the total cost of his trip. But on the flip side, Thomas wouldn''t have escaped the lunchtime traffic if he had gone back home to get his car. ''I guess it''s a necessary evil,'' he thought as he got out of the taxi after over an hour of travel. "Are you sure this is the right place, sir?" asked the driver through the rolled down window. Thomas could understand why he would ask. They were on a dirt road, near a forest and finally in the middle of nowhere. "Yes, this is perfect. Thank you for your time and have a good day!" The taxi driver shook his head behind the wheel. "These white-collar guys really have some weird destinations in mind..." He turned around before speeding away. Even after the taxi was out of sight, Thomas remained motionless. He glanced at his watch. 11:35If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. "The old man should be passing by here soon," Thomas thought as he kept wainting. He might be a few minutes late due to his age, but Thomas had the entire morning. Spring had already been in full bloom for several months. The sides of the path were scattered with dandelions and pink flowers with a pleasant fragrance. Thomas had no idea what species they were, as he spent most of his time working. Having lived his whole life in New York, he knew all too well that it was easier to come across a criminal on the street than to see a flower. ''Not that I''m complaining, at least it gives me work,'' he thought as he continued to wait. After observing the local flora and fauna for about 5 minutes, Thomas saw an old man approaching on foot. The man looked to be over 80 years old. He was wearing a white checkered shirt and a brown beret to protect himself from the sun. His white hair cascaded down his shoulders. While his right hand gripped a wooden cane that he used to walk, his left hand held a wooden fishing pole and a box of fishing hooks. "Hello, Grandpa Joe." Thomas stepped forward to give his grandfather a long hug. The old man seemed surprised but happy to see him. "You should have told me you were coming, Thomas. I would have brought your fishing rod so we could fish together." "Don¡¯t worry about it, Grandpa. I just wanted to spend some time with you and talk a little." The old man laughed at his response. "You must have encountered quite a problem in your love life to come all the way here and ask for my advice." Without giving his grandson a chance to explain, he handed him his fishing rod and hooks before continuing on his way. They would have plenty of time to talk once they were waiting for their first catch anyway. They walked for several minutes in silence, each enjoying the peace and quietness of the forest in their own way. When they finally arrived at a lake in the middle of nowhere, the two men sat on the ground, and Joe began to prepare his fishing rod. He attached a bobber to his line before casting it into the water. Once that was done, all that was left was to wait. Thomas started speaking as he sat cross-legged on the grass. "So, how are you and Grandma doing?" The old man looked away from his bobber with a wide grin on his face. "Very well, very well. But you know, you can go ahead and ask me your real questions. I doubt they¡¯ve planted microphones around this lake or have men nearby." Thomas turned his head to scan the surroundings. "Are you sure, Grandpa?" Joe shrugged while keeping an eye on his line. "If they don¡¯t want me to talk, all they have to do is silence me. I walk alone in the middle of the forest every day. They know my route down to the minute and wouldn¡¯t have any trouble overpowering an old man." Thomas wasn¡¯t very comfortable with the idea, and Joe noticed it right away. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, little Toto. It¡¯s much harder to get rid of a young commander from the center of New York than a retired spy. If you ask me sensitive questions, they might come after me and give me a slap on the wrist, but I think that¡¯s about it.¡± Thomas watched his grandfather for several long seconds before diving in. ¡°Do you know about the Johnson family?¡± The old man looked at him for a few seconds before raising an eyebrow. ¡°No, why? You know I don¡¯t know everyone on Earth. What have these Johnsons done?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, but even the head of the police department wanted to cover their tracks. Even my friend at the classified information center refused to help me.¡± ¡°And that¡¯s why you came to see me in the middle of the forest?¡± Thomas nodded. The old man let out a sigh of resignation before asking, ¡°What other information do you have?¡± In response, Thomas pulled a stack of crumpled papers from the inside of his coat. He had written down all the names of people who seemed connected to the Johnsons, a summary of the airplane heist and the recovery of the stolen items, and finally, an overview of dead-end leads and his own hypotheses. Joe flipped through them in silence, leaving his grandson to hold the fishing rod. ¡°De la Fayette¡­ De la Fayette¡­ why does that name sound familiar?¡± the old man murmured as he absentmindedly scanned the papers. This time, Thomas asked the question. ¡°Who is this De la Fayette?¡± ¡°Someone who was on the plane during the heist. I can''t say why, but I feel like I¡¯ve seen that name somewhere before. Let me just call an old colleague to be sure.¡± With that, he pulled an old Nokia phone from one of his pockets. The call lasted only a few minutes but felt agonizingly long to the young commander. His grandfather¡¯s face had darkened as the conversation went on, until he hung up with a frown. It took him several seconds to gather his thoughts before turning to Thomas. ¡°Are you sure you want to investigate this?¡± His voice had turned serious, and his face was no longer playful but had a hint of fear. Thomas had never seen his grandfather afraid in his life. ¡°Is it really that serious?¡± he finally asked, glancing around nervously. The old man nodded gravely. ¡°This is the kind of information that could lead to the disappearance of a young commander from the center of New York¡­ and a retired spy. Do you even know how many people disappear in the United States every year without being found?¡± Thomas was so shocked of the randomness of the question that it took him several seconds to respond. ¡°Around 36,000, right? I think my data is a few years old, but it should still be a good estimate.¡± Joe nodded again. ¡°Those are the official numbers. But did you know the real figure is closer to 50,000?¡± ¡°Maybe they don¡¯t count unreported disappearances,¡± Thomas said, thinking aloud. This time, his grandfather shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m talking about recorded disappearances. Nearly 30% were left out of the official numbers, but do you know why?¡± ¡°To avoid panicking the public?¡± ¡°No, my grandson. To keep a very well-hidden secret.¡± Joe took the fishing rod back from Thomas before continuing. ¡°About 20 years ago, my superiors assigned me and my team to a strange case. It involved tens of millions of dollars¡¯ worth of military equipment being shipped to a remote part of Africa. Our mission was to find out who the supplier was, and more importantly, who were the buyers. The goal was to prevent the weapons from fueling civil wars accross the Atlantic ¡± He paused briefly, as if searching through distant memories. ¡°While we were on the ground gathering intel, I received a call from my direct superior. He ordered me to pull my men back and return to the U.S., saying the mission had been reassigned to another branch of the intelligence services. I didn¡¯t believe him at the time. We already had the buyers¡¯ names, and we were only a few days away from identifying the seller.¡± The bobber trembled on the surface of the water, but the old man didn¡¯t seem to notice. ¡°I realized something was wrong when my superior forbade me from filing a written report and then assigned me and my men to near-suicidal missions in the months that followed. Many died during those missions, and only a few survived. But we understood back then that we had stumbled onto something important.¡± He turned to look his grandson in the eye. ¡°There were four buyers. Three of them were American citizens, and the last one was French. They all had two things in common: none of them were remotely connected to the military, and all of them had been reported missing in their respective countries for months. We never found out what they intended to do with all those weapons, but we combed through the missing persons¡¯ registries to try to find any clue, and we discovered that they weren¡¯t part of the official numbers. We also found that several thousand people were in the same situation as them, though we never figured out why. However, out of those four buyers lost in the depths of Africa, one name should ring a bell for you. He was a young Frenchman at the time, who spoke very poor English. His name was Jean-Marc. Jean-Marc De la Fayette.¡± Chapter 27 : ICE CREAAAM !!! Quota 0/391 - 26 days left to begin the quota The ice cream truck drove up to Victor. There was absolutely no place to park on a New York avenue like this one, and the driver seemed fully aware of it. He turned on his hazard lights before stopping right in front of Victor, who could now admire the side of the truck. ICE CREAM HALF OFF IF YOU¡¯RE PART OF THE COMPANY! This message was accompanied by a drawing of a fictional employee wearing a bright orange vest. The little character wore a black diving mask that covered his face, held an ice cream cone in his right hand, and gave a thumbs-up with his left. Before Victor could wonder which company the sign was referring to, the metal shutter slid up. Leaning against the counter stood a woman with jet-black hair. Her tank top revealed numerous tattoos and, most notably, the gleaming barrel of a handgun. ''Does everyone carry a gun around in this country?'' Victor asked himself as the ice cream truck¡¯s music died away. While he wondered about that, the woman bent down to pick up a box. It had to be Victor¡¯s package because his initials, V.D.F, were written on it in black ink. It also bore some kind of seal that had been torn off and then taped back together with a small piece of tape. Confusion flashed through Victor¡¯s eyes as he turned to the delivery woman. ¡°I was just curious. No need to look at me like that¡­¡± she mumbled in response to his silent question. Victor was getting one surprise after another. ¡°You speak French?¡± He was all the more astonished because she didn¡¯t have a trace of an accent. ¡°I need to be able to sell my ice cream. If I speak every language, I can go anywhere and sell to anyone.¡± At this point, Victor¡¯s expression was nothing but bewilderment. ''So, are you planning to hire ice cream vendors around the world to deliver my stuff?'' he asked to his little inner voice. Of course not, dear host! There¡¯s only one ice cream truck and one delivery person, but they will always be on time, no matter where you are. ''And how is that supposed to work?'' Victor continued, just as the woman handed him his package. That¡¯s a professional secret, dear host! Victor dropped the subject. After all, he had a jester as a pet just hanging from his keychain. Hardly anything else seemed impossible by comparison. He hurried to take the package from the woman¡¯s hands and thanked her. ¡°Want some ice cream with that? Don¡¯t worry! For you, it¡¯s fifty percent off,¡± she announced after grabbing a scoop. Victor thought it would be a shame to pass up such a deal, but he was broke. With a regretful look, he declined the offer. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Monsieur de la Fayette. We¡¯ll share one next time!¡± With that, she lowered the shutter and drove off without any music this time, leaving Victor standing there with his newly aquired walkie-talkies. Of course, he wasn¡¯t the one interested in them, so he simply went back up the steps of the hotel with the box to hand it over to Nathaniel. After handing over the package, Victor noticed he didn¡¯t have much to do. Everyone else was already busy getting ready for the upcoming trip. The plane had been arranged by whoever was behind all those letters, but Victor didn¡¯t know anything about the rest. Olivia had left first to speak with one of her contacts and secure a shipment of weapons in case things went sideways. Victor had no idea how she had pulled that off, especially given that Russia was at war and importing weapons was forbidden. ''Let¡¯s hope she¡¯s not grabbing them straight from the front line, or someone¡¯s really not going to be happy¡­'' Shirley had left to take care of their local transportation once they arrived. Victor had no idea if he should expect a Mercedes G-Class, a Humvee like before, or maybe even a tank. He also didn¡¯t know if they could use any of them if the weather in the Russian tundra turned bad. Nathaniel was the last to leave, taking the box of walkie-talkies with him and muttering incomprehensible words in English, leaving Victor alone at the table. He didn¡¯t know anybody in town, had no money, and didn¡¯t speak any language other than French. The afternoon promised to be deadly dull for Victor¡ªuntil a man sat down at his table. He looked to be in his fifties, with salt-and-pepper hair, a neatly trimmed beard reminiscent of an English lawn, and a sharp business suit. Around his wrist was a stunning watch that immediately caught Victor¡¯s eye. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.''Maybe I should go out this afternoon and try to buy a watch. It won¡¯t be as nice as his, but at least I¡¯ll be able to keep track of the time underground for the next quota.'' Noticing Victor¡¯s interest, the man spoke up: ¡°You have an eye for fine things, Monsieur de la Fayette.¡± To Victor¡¯s complete surprise, the man spoke flawless French. He also pulled a midnight-blue box out of his coat pocket. A snowflake-like symbol, presumably the brand logo, was engraved on top, but Victor had no idea what was inside. ¡°Why don¡¯t you try it on, see if it fits?¡± Inside the box was a watch. Its white dial sparkled in the sunlight, practically blinding Victor, while the subtle scent of leather wafted from the band. Victor had only one thought in mind as he saw the thin lettering on the dial and the gold adorning its edges: MONEY. It wasn¡¯t the same watch the man was wearing, but both looked similar enough that they might be from the same watchmaker. But none of that mattered to Victor. He closed the box and set it on the table in front of him. ¡°What do you want?¡± He was pleased to be offered a watch¡ªespecially since he couldn¡¯t afford one himself¡ªbut he wasn¡¯t about to get involved in any shady business for such a small price. ''The Company does weird stuff, but at least they pay well¡­'' he grumbled to himself. The man simply offered a slight smile in response to Victor¡¯s grousing. ¡°I just want to get to know you because I think we could do business together.¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± The man seemed unfazed by Victor¡¯s skeptical tone. ¡°Aren¡¯t you an employee of the Company?¡± ¡°How do you know that?¡± He shrugged. ¡°You can do a lot more with money than just buy watches. I can¡¯t supply you with weapons like some of your friends, but you¡¯d be surprised, Monsieur de la Fayette, at all the things money can buy.¡± Victor felt like he was listening to some Sicilian mafia boss. ¡°What exactly are we talking about?¡± ¡°If you need accommodations, clothing, or any form of transportation, I can arrange it.¡± ¡°Even if I don¡¯t have any money?¡± The man chuckled softly. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anyone in your line of work who wasn¡¯t rich, unless they were dead,¡± he said, getting up from the table. He pulled a business card from his coat and handed it to Victor. ¡°Feel free to call me even if you have no money, Monsieur de la Fayette. I enjoy investing in people. Now then, I¡¯ll let you get back to your preparations. Don¡¯t hesitate to call the number on the back of the card when you want to talk further.¡± He shook Victor¡¯s hand before leaving the hotel with a satisfied smile. Down the steps, a bodyguard and his butler were waiting by a tinted-window sedan. ¡°How did your meeting go, sir?¡± his butler asked as he sat beside him in the backseat. He could see his employer was whistling, something he only did on particularly joyous occasions. ¡°They let me speak with him. He should come back to us in a few weeks or maybe a few months. In any case, I¡¯m in no hurry. A good investment takes time before it becomes profitable.¡± ¡°With all due respect, sir, how can you be so sure he¡¯ll contact us again?¡± The man answered the butler¡¯s question with another question. ¡°Do you know how to fasten a watch?¡± It was a simple question, and the butler gave an equally simple answer. ¡°With a buckle, sir?¡± ¡°Exactly!¡± A heavy silence settled inside the car, undisturbed by any outside noise. The man, who had begun whistling again, stopped when he saw the puzzled look on his butler¡¯s face. ¡°I asked the guys at Patek to install a new buckle system where the watch¡¯s dial acts as a lock. You can only unlock it by aligning the numbers on the dial like a safe¡¯s combination. That¡¯s how you release the buckle.¡± The butler¡¯s face grew even more confused. ¡°In other words: No code, no buckle. No buckle, no closure. No closure, no watch. No watch?... No watch. I saw the look in his eyes¡ªhe loves watches, and only we can help him get this one fastened. At that moment, he¡¯ll contact us.¡± After noticing a spark of realization in the butler¡¯s eyes, the man resumed whistling. ''God, I love money,'' he thought as they headed back to his villa. Meanwhile, Victor was still seated at the same table. His confusion hadn¡¯t lessened in the last few minutes, even after replaying the scene in his mind several times. A man had shown up, offered him a watch that looked quite expensive, told him he was going to be rich, said he was ¡°investing in him¡± like he was a piece of cryptocurrency, handed him a business card, and then left without further explanation. All of that happened in under five minutes. It had gone by so fast that Victor hadn¡¯t even had time to ask for the man¡¯s name. ''Well, at least he probably wrote it on his business card,'' he thought, picking up the little slip of paper he¡¯d left on the table. A phone number was written on the back: +1 (212) 555 - 1XXX On the other side was a name and a short paragraph: If you don¡¯t have a phone with an international plan, I¡¯m sure one of your friends has already taken care of that for you. The watch is a gift to make up for the inconvenience caused during your flight. William Smith What is this guy talking about? Victor grumbled. He still didn¡¯t trust this ¡°William Smith,¡± but he put the business card in his pants pocket. After all, he didn¡¯t mind getting free luxury watches from strangers. ''Worst case, I¡¯ll send my new pet to pay him a little visit in the night and bite his ass,'' he thought, turning his attention to the watch in front of him. It was still there, shining in its beautiful midnight-blue case. Now that he could examine it more closely, Victor noticed a problem: the buckle wouldn¡¯t open. ''Maybe I should call him and say his gift is defective¡­'' Victor mused, then shook his head. All of that could wait until he got back from Siberia. For now, all he¡¯d need was a little piece of tape¡­ Chapter 28 : Vladimir Duglynov Quota 0/391 ¨C 25 days remaining before starting the quota 6:00 AM Victor stepped out of his hotel room after collecting all his belongings. He was leaving New York with a heavier bag than the one he¡¯d had when he left Paris. The watch case and its contents weren¡¯t really the reason for the extra weight. The problem was a gardening tool he¡¯d bought in excessive quantities through the system, something he was now bitterly regretting. A dozen of shovels were poking out from the top of his backpack, making it impossible to zip shut. ''At least it taught me a lesson,'' Victor thought as he got into the elevator. ''I¡¯ll wait until we¡¯re in Siberia to buy the jetpacks, so I don¡¯t have to drag them onto the plane and across the world.'' He hadn¡¯t considered how he would bring them back to France though. DING The elevator opened onto the hotel lobby. Charon was behind the reception desk again, which made Victor wonder how many hours the man worked each week. ''Damn capitalism¡­'' Victor grumbled as he dragged his bag toward the exit. To his complete surprise, Charon followed him all the way to the door. ¡°Have a good trip, Monsieur De la Fayette, and good luck.¡± Victor thanked him with a nod before stepping out of the hotel. The air was cool and damp. The empty streets were illuminated only by the white glow of the streetlamps. Plenty of people might have admired this almost artistic early-morning scene, but not Victor. He had never had any energy at such an hour, and a sleeping New York offered none of the caffeine he needed to wake up. As he descended the hotel steps, all he wanted was to sleep. Conveniently, their flight to Siberia would last eight hours, so he just needed to make it onto the plane. Shirley was waiting for him in her pickup truck, ready to drive him to the airport. All he had to do was get his bag into her truck, parked at the bottom of the steps. Naturally, Shirley was behind the wheel, whispering sweet nothings to her ¡°baby¡± and completely failing to notice Victor¡¯s painstaking approach. She only looked away from the steering wheel to wipe away her tears once he opened the door. She was obviously sad about leaving her beloved pickup in the U.S., yet Victor could sense an impatient gleam in her eye, as if she¡¯d already found something even better for their time in Siberia. ''I just hope it¡¯s nothing crazy like a tank, even if it could be somewhat useful...'' Victor muttered as he hauled himself into the pickup. Their trip to the airport was short but intense. Shirley drove them directly onto the tarmac, where a private jet stood waiting. They¡¯d entered via a secure gate guarded by a small team of security officers. Victor had never been on a private jet before, but he was fairly sure this wasn¡¯t standard procedure. Nathaniel and Olivia had already been there for a while and were leaning against a sedan. Each carried a small backpack, probably holding enough clothes for the span of their mission. Meanwhile, Victor felt a pang of anxiety because he had brought no warm clothing at all. That was a problem, but he had neither winter gear nor the money to buy any. "Let¡¯s hope it won¡¯t be too cold in the middle of Siberia," he sighed, stepping out of the pickup with his meager luggage. The four companions weren¡¯t alone. Another car, a little white Fiat Panda, was parked nearby, from which a familiar-looking man emerged. ''So even he doesn¡¯t dare get in his daughter¡¯s pickup?'' Victor thought, shaking his head. It was none of his business, and anyway, he had no intention of ever riding in that demonic vehicle¡¯s passenger seat again. He left the father-daughter pair to their conversation and headed over to Olivia. Surprisingly, she didn¡¯t seem to be armed at all. Victor didn¡¯t know whether she¡¯d already checked her weapons as baggage or planned to get new ones once they arrived in Siberia. In any case, he wasn¡¯t sure they would be useful in their upcoming mission. The weird monsters seemed inexplicably resistant to bullets. That left only heavier calibers to test on the creatures. A Loot Bug might survive a barrage of bullets, but what about a grenade, a rocket, or even a tank shell?This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it Sure, it would be tough to maneuver a tank through underground tunnels. But maybe they could use it outside, against those nightmarish dogs or the ten-meter-tall giants. Victor also had a pet Jester that might come in handy. ''It¡¯s not as though we can know anything without testing¡­'' he told himself. Information-sharing between teams at the company was forbidden, so if somebody had already tried to blow up a giant with a tank, Victor had no way of finding out how it went. After greeting his two other teammates, the three of them boarded the jet and waited for their fourth companion. Shirley¡¯s father spoke to her for several minutes. Eventually, she reluctantly handed over the keys to her beloved pickup and climbed aboard. Once everyone was settled, the jet taxied to one of the four runways. It stopped at the end, and the pilot¡¯s voice sounded through the cabin speakers: ¡°**Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. It¡¯s currently 6:30 AM. We¡¯re scheduled to arrive in Blagoveshchensk at about 4:30 AM local time after an eight-hour flight. The local temperature is 40¡ãF (about 5¡ãC), which is typical for the season. However, weather reports indicate conditions are likely to deteriorate in the upcoming weeks. I¡¯m mentioning this because there¡¯s a high chance the jet will be grounded due to weather over that period. If you need anything during the flight, please speak to Amanda or Madison, our flight attendants. Wishing you a pleasant flight.**¡± Too exhausted to make sense of the announcement, Victor settled his head on the pillow of his seat and fell asleep as the engines roared to full power for takeoff. He didn¡¯t wake up until several hours later, feeling much more refreshed. He now fully appreciated how comfortable his seat was, far more than the one on his flight over. ''And nobody woke me up in the middle of my nap this time¡­'' he thought, gazing out at the sea of clouds through the window. This private jet only had a few seats for takeoff; most of the space was set up as a lounge area. It had velvet armchairs, a wooden table for card games or discussions, and a library stocked with literary classics. His three companions were already around the table, each engrossed in something different. Nathaniel was reading Les Mis¨¦rables by Victor Hugo, a hefty volume he must have grabbed from the onboard library. Shirley was playing a racing game on her phone, while Olivia was performing maintenance on an AK-47. Sensing Victor¡¯s gaze, Olivia looked up from the weapon with questioning''s eyes. ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Victor hastly shook his head before sitting in one of the armchairs. He was now convinced that Olivia could never be without a weapon; if it wasn¡¯t in her hands, it had to be in her bag, and if she didn¡¯t have a bag, she¡¯d have one hidden nearby. He was quite sure that she¡¯d even want to be buried with one of her toys when she passed away. ¡°How much longer till we land?¡± he asked. Olivia glanced up again to relay his question to the flight attendants standing a short distance away, ready to fulfill any request. The brunette of the pair answered, while the blonde seemed too startled by the sudden appearance of an AK-47 to speak: ¡°**We should be arriving in about four hours, ladies and gentlemen. If you¡¯d like something to eat or drink, or any cocktails, the chef will be happy to prepare them for you.**¡± Once Olivia had translated for him, Victor pulled out his new watch from his backpack. He wasn¡¯t hungry yet, but ¡°William¡¯s¡± gift was turning out to be more trouble than expected. The clasp wouldn¡¯t fasten, which he¡¯d considered fixing with a small piece of tape, but then a second issue cropped up: he had no idea how to set the time. The watch case had no instructions, no brand details aside from "Philippe Patek" on its dial, and no receipt he could use for a return. Victor couldn¡¯t see himself calling William just to say his gift was defective. All that was left was to contact the brand marked on the watch face. ¡°If i''m lucky, their customer service might help me out without charging an arm and a leg,¡± he sighed, closing the case. He¡¯d deal with it after being back in France and having done his quota. After all, he still had to retrieve his car from an impound lot in Lille. Changing the subject in his mind, he pulled a keychain from his pocket, examining the single item dangling from it : the miniature Jester. It was an exact model of the creature he¡¯d encountered during their last quota, down to the small white legs and single harmless-looking arm. According to the system, a simple mental command would restore it to its original size so it could be of use. Victor still wasn¡¯t sure how exactly he might employ it, but he had a few ideas in mind. He started turning the tiny crank. A soft melody played from the miniature music box, briefly drawing the others¡¯ attention. Once they saw it was only a small music box, Shirley and the others went back to what they¡¯d been doing. Victor kept cranking until the tune ended. CLANG The kind-cute-little Jester had turned into a small-harrowing version of itself. ''That should come in handy¡­'' Victor thought, smiling. In any case, he¡¯d have to test it deep in Siberia, far away from human civilisation. 4:30 AM A jet touched down at Ignatyevo Airport, northwest of Blagoveshchensk. Waiting on the tarmac were several tinted-window sedans and a group of men dressed in black. As soon as the plane came to a stop and its four passengers stepped out, a man emerged from one of the cars and walked toward them. He wore just a loose white shirt, old and lazily buttoned, and a simple pair of linen pants. But he sported such an immense beard that even Rasputin might have been humbled. He gave each member of the group a firm handshake. ¡°Welcome to Russia, comrades! I¡¯m Vladimir Duglynov, director of the hotel branch here in Blagoveshchensk, our only outpost in the grand Siberia. If you¡¯ll follow me, I¡¯ve got cars ready to take us to the hotel. We have a few matters to discuss, particularly regarding your weapon supplies, because you¡¯ve caused quite a stir in the region¡­¡± Chapter 29 : Preparation time Quota 0/391 - 24 days left to start the next quota Victor had never been to Russia before, and he was already regretting getting off the plane. ''What do you mean ''it¡¯s warmer than usual for this time of year¡¯?'' he complained, shivering. His teeth were chattering every second from the cold. Things might have been bearable if he¡¯d had a warm coat on his back, but he didn¡¯t. Victor couldn¡¯t even speak up about it, because Vladimir Duglynov had unbuttoned part of his shirt to cool off. ''Damn these Russians...'' Victor muttered, rubbing his arms to try to warm himself. He was now convinced that vodka was giving them some kind of superhuman resistance to the cold. Maybe it was also a matter of different genes, but Victor preferred his own idea about the power of ¡°holy vodka.¡± ''At worst, the vodka is probably running in their DNA, so it¡¯s basically the same thing,'' he thought as he finally got into a sedan. Vladimir took the driver¡¯s seat after asking Olivia to sit in front next to him. The other three sat in the back with enough space to play a game of golf. The vehicles set off and left the airport, again passing through a secured gate. Vladimir and Olivia started chatting in the front in a language Victor guessed was from Eastern Europe, Russian, Kazakh? He had no way to tell and was too preoccupied by something else. ¡°A-CHOO!¡± He¡¯d caught a cold. Vladimir hadn¡¯t bothered to turn on the heat, and he¡¯d even switched on the ventilated seats so he wouldn¡¯t sweat. As a result, Victor never stood a chance. It only took Russia a few minutes to give him a welcoming cold. At least Shirley was next to him, offering tissues throughout the ride. They arrived at the hotel, heated from floor to ceiling, but it was already too late. Victor didn¡¯t know how long he would be sick, but he was sure it would last for the entire quota. If the New York branch of the hotel looked luxurious and elegant, the Lille one simple and modern, then its Russian counterpart had a historical, rustic feel. Its red brick roof and white wooden-framed windows looked to be a few centuries old. Inside, though, it was much like the other two branches Victor had visited, as if branch managers could do whatever they liked with the exterior but had to keep the interiors standardized. Victor wasn¡¯t going to complain, at least he¡¯d be sleeping in a bed instead of an igloo. Still sneezing nonstop, he followed Vladimir, who guided them to his office. Vladimir only started talking after the four of them had settled into chairs, and he himself had straddled on a chair pulled over from behind his desk. ¡°**I only have a few requests for the duration of your stay with us, comrades. We¡¯re just a few hundred kilometers from the Chinese border, so if you could avoid crossing it with tanks or missile launchers, that¡¯d be appreciated. As for the far end of the tundra, you have my permission to blow up whatever you like. Nothing grows out there anyway, and no one will notice the damage before you leave. Speaking of weapons, Olivia and I reached an agreement on the way here. Her Mongolian contact will deliver all the armaments a few dozen kilometers northeast of our lovely city. Under these special circumstances, the authorities have agreed to turn a blind eye, in exchange for anything you don¡¯t end up using during your stay. If you have special wishes or requests, feel free to come by my office to discuss them. Nathaniel, your packages arrived this morning and are waiting at reception.**¡± ¡°A-CHOO!¡± Victor was the last one to stand up, making sure to shake their host¡¯s hand before leaving. Once back downstairs, Nathaniel picked up a large black case at the reception desk. It was big enough to hold a rocket launcher, though Victor had no idea what was inside. Nathaniel had been handling drones and all sorts of gadgets so far, which was too broad for Victor to guess. Futhermore, he clearly didn¡¯t intend to reveal anything, keeping the case close to him. Victor and the others were curious, but none of them bothered to ask. They¡¯d find out soon enough, away from prying eyes. ''Time to check out our new ride,'' Victor thought as they left the hotel. This time, waiting at the bottom of the steps wasn¡¯t a military truck but a perfectly ordinary car. Shirley must not have been authorized to drive her new vehicle through the city streets. That only delayed the inevitable, because they were about to see it soon enough.Stolen novel; please report. A few minutes later, they were out of the city, and after another half hour, the road had turned into barely navigable terrain. Shirley seemed prepared, because she stopped the car. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The scenery around them was unlike anything Victor had ever seen, half pine and birch forest, half swamp. No sign of the typical snow one might expect in this part of the world, but it would likely arrive in the days to come. While Victor had thought about a vehicle coming up the rough track ahead, he heard the heavy rumble of an engine to their right, except there was nothing there but a birch forest on a small hill. That still didn¡¯t stop a vehicle from suddenly emerging over the hilltop. It looked like a monstrous version of their old HUMVEE, customized for the harsh Siberian terrain. It stood nearly three meters tall, with a van-like compartment at the back for living space. But the most striking feature was the gigantic bumper up front, capable of plowing straight through a birch forest without a second thought. Several tons of truck hurtling downhill flattened every tree in its path without the slightest effort to avoid them. ''Looks like a salesman trying to show off his product,'' Victor thought, watching the scene unfold from the window. In about ten seconds, the vehicle, now covered in leaves, pulled up beside their car. Two men got out of the cab and walked over to Shirley. They looked like twins, same pale skin, same black beanie, and the same Adidas tracksuit. The first handed her the keys while the second took a phone from his pocket. Much to Victor¡¯s disappointment, who had pictured an epic showdown with a briefcase full of money, Shirley didn¡¯t whip out any such thing. They were simply there to deliver the keys and the payment had already been arranged. After the two men left in a car that must have been waiting on standby, the rest of the group got out to examine their new vehicle. Beyond its huge bumper, which they¡¯d just seen in action, the rear of the vehicle had also undergone modifications. It was about ten meters long, so Victor felt like he was standing next to a small truck, but more importantly, the interior had been converted for living: several beds, a small kitchen, and even a table for meals. ''I guess we''re gonna sleep here for the whole quota,'' Victor thought. There was one more surprise: a trailer at the back. In which under a blue tarp, were hiding four snowmobiles, several jerry cans of fuel, and all the tools needed for any repair work. There were also crates Victor guessed contained survival rations, water, and enough medicine for their three-day expedition. ''All we need now is the weapons delivery and a place to park this beast,'' Victor thought, glancing at Shirley to see what she had in mind. She¡¯d planned everything, namely, to leave it here. Victor couldn¡¯t see why she was so confident, but she wore the knowing smile of someone who had it all figured out. Maybe the shady look of the truck plus its hefty mass was enough to scare off any thieves, or maybe she¡¯d struck a deal with Vladimir for extra security. Victor had no idea. They simply drove back to Blagoveshchensk, leaving the monstrous vehicle behind. They¡¯d return in a few days anyway, since they would need it to head into the depths of Siberia. As they neared the end of their return trip, Shirley agreed to make a small detour at the group¡¯s request. She parked the car in an alley beside the hotel, in front of a Russian pharmacy. But the ground-floor shop wasn¡¯t what interested them, it was the discreet apartment upstairs. On the mailbox was written ¡°Maria Popova,¡± one of the most common Russian names for a woman, but it was actually the local branch of the company, based here in Blagoveshchensk. They climbed the stairs and rang the doorbell. Nathaniel pushed the door open when he noticed it wasn¡¯t locked. Inside, it looked nothing like an apartment: a large desk sat just a few steps from the entrance, making it seem as if the rest of the apartment was blocked off. Behind the desk sat a young blonde woman with pale skin. She might really have been named Maria Popova, but they knew her by another name: Rend. As soon as they walked in, she began speaking to them in Russian. ¡°**Welcome to Russia. I hope your trip went well.**¡± Everyone turned to Olivia, their designated interpreter. She waited a few seconds before replying, speaking slowly and with a pronounced accent. ¡°**Thank you. We¡¯re here to get the date and location of our quota.**¡± Rend seemed to have been expecting their visit, because she pulled a small slip of paper out of one of her desk drawers. The details were in Cyrillic, so only Olivia could read them. They would have plenty of time to go over everything back at the hotel. ¡°**Goodbye, and good luck,**¡± Rend said, gesturing for them to leave. They had what they¡¯d come for and could now head out. After bowing slightly to thank her, Victor and the others headed back to the car. Back at the hotel, the group gathered at a table in the restaurant. There were only a few other people around, most of them sipping coffee or tea with pastries, waiting for dinner. While Victor¡¯s mouth watered at that sight, Nathaniel pulled a tablet out of his coat. Following Olivia¡¯s instructions, he entered some coordinates and brought up a 3D map of the area. Their target lay almost 150 kilometers from any town, a small island in the middle of a frozen lake. As for the date, their quota would start in six days. As a bad omen, an alert suddenly flashed on Nathaniel¡¯s tablet: a blizzard was forecast to hit in eight days, and there was no way they¡¯d avoid the coming storm.