《GOD OF FREELANCE : MONEY FIRST》 Chapter 1 A miserable Morning (1) The traffic was intense, and Osaka Station was overflowing with people. A sea of bodies moved in a controlled chaos, accompanied by the rumbling of trains and the repetitive announcements echoing through the station. The air was thick with fatigue and resignation, a coldness almost palpable hung over the place. Yes, it was a Monday morning. On a bench near the station, a young boy, despite himself, was attracting the attention of passersby. Dressed in a sweatshirt and loose black pants, he seemed lost in his thoughts, a suitcase resting by his side. But it wasn¡¯t his appearance that caught people¡¯s eyes; it was his loud and incessant sighs, punctuated by exaggerated gestures, as if he wanted the whole world to share in his frustration. ¡°Damn it! What the hell did I do?!¡± Finally, the sighs gave way to a string of curses. ¡°How can I be so good at messing things up?¡± he muttered through gritted teeth. Damn it! Saying something like that to someone like my mother was a huge mistake on my part. The boy, slumped on the bench as though the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders, seemed on the verge of exploding, ready to shout out a resounding ¡°Fuck you, fucking world!¡± His name? Kenshin Ishikawa. Ironically, he was the eldest son of one of Japan¡¯s most powerful women: Madam Sakura Ishikawa, CEO of the Tenkai Group, a conglomerate ranked among the top three largest companies in the country. To say she was immensely wealthy was an understatement. So, how did her son end up like this? "I got dumped by my girlfriend... for my best friend. I spent all my pocket money on the lottery¡ªmillions of yen¡ªand lost it all like an idiot. And now, this..." A deep sigh escaped him as he slouched even further on the bench, his posture screaming despair. To the outside world, he looked like a man who had lost everything, a rare sight of misery for someone of his status. His eyes closed, he let his thoughts wander, reliving the events that had led him here. Three hours earlier In Tokyo, a towering building dominated the urban landscape, its imposing architecture and enormous LED screen displaying the golden ¡°Tenkai Group¡± logo. This was the headquarters of the empire run by Madam Sakura Ishikawa, the feared and respected businesswoman of the entire country. Inside her luxurious office, a heated discussion was unfolding.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. A confrontation between a ruthless mother and her desperate son. ¡°You don¡¯t deserve to carry my name. You¡¯re a disgrace.¡± Sitting behind her desk, Madam Sakura Ishikawa spoke these words in a calm, emotionless voice. Her face, as stoic as a statue, displayed no anger or disappointment. Only an absolute coldness. Despite her age, she retained a stunning beauty: long, well-kept black hair, a figure that would make the top models envious. But what struck the most was the aura around her¡ªheavy, crushing. A presence akin to that of a battle-hardened veteran, a woman who had conquered the business world without ever flinching. With just a glance, it was clear that she was a born dominator, the complete opposite of her son. A son she no longer recognized. ¡°Mom, listen to me! This time, it was a good deal, I just had bad luck at the last minute, I could¡¯ve¡ª¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Sakura¡¯s icy voice cut through the air like a sharp blade. ¡°Give me one good reason why I shouldn¡¯t disinherit you on the spot.¡± Ken froze. A chill ran down his spine. ¡°I¡¯ve already been more than patient with you. I¡¯ve given you opportunities that anyone would have dreamed of. Yet tell me, what is your one and only achievement as the heir?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Unlike your sisters, you¡¯re just a failure. Even the youngest, still in high school, has more potential than you. And you? You squander fortunes on casinos and women. Is that why I sent you to study in the United States?¡± Each word was a stab. Each syllable drove Ken deeper into the abyss. He wanted to shout, protest, knock over the desk that separated him from this woman who was still his mother. But he couldn¡¯t. Because, deep down, everything she said was true. So, he listened. He listened to his own death sentence. ¡°You¡¯ve forced me to make a decision I would¡¯ve preferred to avoid... From now on, Nora will inherit the leadership of the company.¡± A shock. A sentence. Ken¡¯s eyes widened under the weight of the blow. ¡°What!?¡± Silence was his only answer. Then came the anger. ¡°What the hell is this!? I know I haven¡¯t been perfect these last few years, but is that a good enough reason to take away my birthright?!¡± A small, cruel smile finally appeared on Sakura¡¯s previously impassive face. She whispered, almost to herself: ¡°Birthright, huh¡­?¡± With a trembling hand, Ken gripped the edge of the desk, panic starting to cloud his gaze. ¡°I¡¯ll make up for it! Please, Mom¡­ no, mother!¡± Despair. He felt it eating away at him, crushing his chest. ¡°I swear, I¡¯ll change! I¡¯ll focus on the business, I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll¡ª¡± ¡°Enough.¡± A heavy silence fell in the room. Sakura¡¯s gaze was colder than ever. ¡°I¡¯ve lost count of how many times I¡¯ve heard those words come out of your mouth.¡± She sighed, a cold breath filled with an unshakable finality. Ken understood. Being disinherited meant losing the Ishikawa name. In the business world, he would no longer exist. To society, he would no longer be an Ishikawa. In other words¡­ he had just been repudiated. Suddenly, the atmosphere around Ken shifted. His smile returned. But this was no longer a nervous smile, nor an apologetic one. It was a strange smile. A smile tinged with a glint of madness. Madam Sakura raised an eyebrow slightly. It was the first time she had seen such an expression on her son¡¯s face. Then, in a calm voice, far too calm: ¡°If I ever take control of a company that surpasses the influence of Tenkai Group... would I be able to reclaim what is rightfully mine?¡± A heavy silence settled. Sakura¡¯s eyes, already cold, turned to ice. As if, at that moment, she had just lost the last shred of interest she could have had for him. In a nonchalant tone, she replied: ¡°I thought you were finally going to say something interesting¡­ but I overestimated you again.¡± ¡°Answer me, mother!¡± Ken didn¡¯t shout. His voice was firm. Determined. Sakura stared at him for a moment before turning away, visibly tired. ¡°Pfff¡­¡± She stood up slowly, walking toward the window while turning her back to him. Then, without even deigning to look at him, she spoke in a cold tone: ¡°Do whatever you want. As of today, you lose the Ishikawa name. A transfer has been made to your account. Your things are ready. Leave.¡± Sakura paused for a moment before adding, her voice as sharp as a blade: ¡°However¡­ if you succeed, you¡¯ll get what you want.¡± Then, without an other word, she turned her back on her son once more, bringing their conversation to a final end. And so, the heir to the Tenkai Group ceased to exist. Chapter 2: A Miserable morning (2) Back to the Present Sigh... "Now, what do I do?" After replaying these events in his mind, Ken felt calmer. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a phone with a shiny screen, marked with the logo of a bitten apple¡ªa brand as popular as it is ridiculously expensive. He quickly tapped the screen before gazing down at the ground, looking utterly indifferent. "Hmm... 10 million yen? What am I supposed to do with that?" He gritted his teeth, his expression darkening. I can''t believe Mom did this to me. 10 million... A sum that would be a fortune to anyone else. But to him, it was an insult. A pitiful amount compared to what he was used to. With 10 million, what kind of life does she expect me to live? ¡­ No, it was worse. I see¡­ Maybe, in addition to disowning me, she wants me to die. That way, she can erase any trace of my existence from this damn family. Tsk! Ken clicked his tongue, a bitter smirk spreading across his lips. "To hell with it..." He abruptly stood up from the bench, grabbing the handle of his suitcase. "I¡¯m going to the casino." After all, he could never survive more than a week with this miserable sum. And this time, I can feel it. I''m going to win. He took a deep breath, a hint of an arrogant smile on his face. She''ll regret treating me like garbage. After walking for a while, Ken stopped in front of a massive building illuminated by glaring neon lights. In golden letters, it read: "THE CASINO" If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Just by the noise filtering through the doors¡ªthe laughter, the sound of clinking chips, and the intoxicating music¡ªit was clear he had arrived in familiar territory. It was his casino. The place where he went to drown his frustrations. Without hesitation, he walked toward the entrance, dragging his suitcase behind him. The guard stationed at the door saw him and, without asking any questions, stepped aside to let him through. The inside was just as expected. A temple of excess. Dozens of tables lined up, offering every kind of game: roulette, blackjack, poker, slot machines, bingo... The atmosphere was like that of a nightclub, despite it being only 10:22 AM. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a man in a suit hurried toward him, sporting a professional smile. "Oh! Mr. Ken! You''re gracing us with your presence at such an early hour? That''s unusual... but always a pleasure, of course." Chris. A casino employee who knew Ken better than anyone. Normally, he only came here in the late afternoon when he needed to relieve some pressure. Ken shrugged, clearly not in the mood for small talk. "The circumstances have changed." He locked eyes with Chris before adding in a confident tone, "Today, I''m not in the mood to lose... so I¡¯m going all in." Chris¡¯s smile widened immediately, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Oh, but of course, Mr. Ken! I have a feeling the games won''t last long against you today..." he said, rubbing his hands together like a merchant sensing a good deal. Ken flashed a smirk before cutting him off sharply. "Enough with the flattery. Let¡¯s go." "As you wish, sir." Without wasting another second, they headed for the slot machines. The clock read 10:22. Tick-tock, tick-tock... Time passed relentlessly. The clock now read 8:02 PM. In the casino, a rather pathetic scene was unfolding. A man dressed in a black sweatshirt and matching pants was begging a casino manager. "Chris, please¡­ We''ve known each other for a while, right? Just a loan¡­ just a little loan of 10,000 yen. I¡¯ll win this time, I swear!" This desperate man was none other than Ken, the same person who had walked in earlier with a confident air. Chris, the manager, looked at him with a cold, disdainful expression, as if observing an insignificant insect. "Sorry, but the house doesn¡¯t do loans." As if the courtesy he had shown earlier had never existed, his gaze was now filled with nothing but contempt. "I... I beg you... The tips! Yes, the extra I gave you! Give them back, after all, it wasn¡¯t your salary, was it?" The whole casino was now watching him. Ken Ishikawa. The man who had lost 9,999,000 yen in a few hours and was now humiliating himself in front of everyone. Chris leaned in quietly, whispering in his ear. "You''re putting on a show, you poor bastard, banished by his own family." Ken¡¯s eyes widened. How¡­? It hadn''t even been a day since he was disowned, and yet, the news had already spread. Chris continued, a mocking smile on his lips. "If you get it, get out of here. Before I get unpleasant." Ken trembled with rage, but before he could speak, Chris added: "Not only are you worthless scum, but you don''t even have a shred of luck... Seriously, are you even human?" Ken clenched his fists. This Chris¡­ The same Chris who was licking my boots earlier? He stood up, a grin on his face, and, under the mocking gazes of the casino patrons, he made his way to the exit. I see¡­ He pulled out his phone. Name: Kenshin Ishikawa Balance: 1,000 yen 1,000 yen. He burst into bitter laughter. I get it now¡­ GZZZZZZZZZZZ. His stomach growled. He was hungry. "I guess I''ll buy one last meal, then end up homeless... and starve to death." He left the casino with a resigned smile, his eyes now devoid of hope. Walking aimlessly, he eventually found a bench. He sat down, drained of all energy. His stomach begged for food, but he no longer had the strength to respond. He was an empty shell. That¡¯s when an unexpected voice rang out: "Oh oh¡­ How can a kid like you sit like an old man waiting for death? And I¡¯m the one saying that¡­" An old man slowly approached, leaning on a cane. His deep wrinkles carved into his face so much that he seemed to have difficulty opening his eyes. He walked painfully to the bench where Ken sat. Ken lifted a tired gaze toward him. Who is this? The old man let out a small laugh. "Ah¡­ politeness isn¡¯t your strong suit, huh?" Then, with difficulty, he sat next to Ken. "I¡¯m just joking. I know you¡¯re not in the mood to talk, boy. But I have a good deal for you." In his trembling hands, he held a book. He slowly extended it to Ken. At that moment, Ken, drained of all energy, was like a robot. He no longer thought. He simply accepted what was happening, reacting mechanically to others'' actions. So, he nonchalantly took the book. The cover was completely black, with a title engraved in golden letters: "GOD OF FREELANCE: MONEY FIRST" What the hell is this? The old man continued, a mysterious smile on his lips: "900 yen¡­ Take this book for 900 yen, and it will change your life, believe me, kid. It''s¡­" He was about to launch into a well-rehearsed sales pitch when Ken cut him off. "Do you accept bank transfers?" Chapter 3: A Miserable Morning (3) ¡°What did you just say?¡± the old man asked, slightly surprised. Ken sighed. ¡°Do you accept bank transfers?¡± He wasn¡¯t interested in the book. He just wanted to make a symbolic gesture, like the final nail in the coffin of his life. After this purchase, he would officially be broke. No more money. No more roof over his head. Just a homeless man wandering the streets. The old man, who had been frozen for a moment, suddenly broke into a radiant smile for his age and slowly stood up. Then, as he walked away, he said, ¡°He accepts all forms of payment.¡± He? Ken raised an eyebrow. Why was this old man referring to himself in the third person? Even worse, he was leaving without even taking the money, leaving the book in Ken¡¯s hands. Ken wanted to say something, but... he was exhausted. Too tired to react. He simply watched the man walk away... until he disappeared into the shadows. He didn¡¯t even take my payment¡­ This isn¡¯t theft, right? Night had already fallen, and Ken was still there, sitting on his bench, suitcase next to him, a book on his lap... ...and his stomach growling as his only company. Whatever. Let¡¯s see what kind of scam this old man tried to sell me. He opened the book casually. It was a novel. A short story, judging by the number of pages. Ten minutes... Thirty minutes... An hour passed.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Ken, initially uninterested, was now absorbed. The story was pretty standard: A man, born into an immensely rich family, ruins the family business due to his incompetence. His life falls into hell. Why am I so captivated by this¡­? Ken strangely identified with the protagonist... He kept reading, intensely, until his eyes widened. What the hell is this?! The story had just taken a weird turn. As the protagonist was on the brink of despair, a blue interface appeared in front of him. On it, it read: "Choose your personal skill, Divine Aspirant." For a fan of webnovels or webtoons, this might¡¯ve seemed normal. But for Ken, who had never read that kind of story... it was just incomprehensible. He kept reading anyway... until the book had another surprise in store for him. ¡ª Ha¡­ Ken let out a small, bitter grin. I really got scammed. There was now a strange passage in the book: [ Dear reader, if you were the hero, what would you have chosen? Say it, from where you are. ] The next five pages were filled with skill names. ¡ª Chef ¡ª Master Pianist ¡ª Finance Expert ¡ª ... What is this nonsense?! Ken sighed deeply and quickly flipped through the pages, trying to get back to the story. But it was impossible. All the pages were filled with this list of skills. A choice had to be made. ¡ª Pfft¡­ Since we¡¯re here¡­ might as well play along. He scanned the list. ¡ª Hmm¡­ If I had to choose a skill¡­ hmm¡­ ¡ª Ant Trainer? Does that even exist? (A/N: Of course it doesn¡¯t... Right? Right?) ¡ª CQC? Hmm¡­ that sounds familiar... Wait, I¡¯ll search it on Internet. He pulled out his phone and opened the search engine¡­ ...then froze. His eyes widened. His breath caught. He had just received a message¡­ [ Your account has been charged 900 yen. New balance: 100£¤. ] Message time: 8:32 PM. Two minutes after the old man left him. He replayed the scene in his head. They never made a transfer. Yet, the money had disappeared. A chill ran down his spine. Then, he remembered the old man¡¯s last words. ¡ª "He accepts all forms of payment." Holy shit¡­ ¡ª This day is unreal... It¡¯s a dream, right? A nervous smile crept across his face. ¡ª Feels more like a nightmare¡­ He gave one last glance at his phone. ¡ª Why doesn¡¯t the recipient¡¯s name even show up? A bug...? Whatever. He returned to the book and refocused. ¡ª Well¡­ since I¡¯m already here¡­ might as well play along until the end. This time, he seriously skimmed through the list. ¡ª Hmm¡­ CQC¡­ Ah! I remember! He quickly typed on his phone. The CQC (Close Quarters Combat) method is a close-combat fighting system designed to be effective in real-life situations, particularly for military forces and special units. ¡ª Wow¡­ He then remembered a Korean movie he loved. ¡ª What was it called again? Oh yeah¡­ Beneficial Evil. The combat scenes of the MC were amazing. He also remembered Nora, who was obsessed with the main actor. ¡ª She was more obsessed with the actor than the character¡­ A bitter smile crossed his face. ¡­Let¡¯s not think about it. He took a deep breath. Then, aloud, he said: ¡ª ¡°Well¡­ if I could perform these moves in real life, that would be cool. I¡¯ll go with¡­ ¡®CQC Expert.¡¯¡± ¡­¡­¡­¡­ Meanwhile, in a black van... ¡ª ¡°Man, don¡¯t you think we¡¯re lucky?¡± The man sitting in the passenger seat spoke to his accomplice, who was driving. ¡ª ¡°What are you talking about?¡± ¡ª ¡°I thought we were going to come back empty-handed¡­ but the heavens smiled on us.¡± ¡ª ¡°Are you dumb or what? We¡¯re still in trouble.¡± ¡ª ¡°Look to the left.¡± The driver slowed down. On a bench, a man sitting alone in the dark. They exchanged a smile like a crescent moon. ¡ª ¡°Remind me to go to church after this job.¡± ¡­¡­¡­¡­ Back to Ken. As soon as he made his choice, his vision blurred. His exhaustion became unbearable. Then, he heard a robotic voice: [ Permanent privilege ''CQC Expert'' granted. End of free trial. ] ¡ª What the¡­ He passed out. At that moment, the black van slowly approached the spot¡­ Chapter 4: Bartender(1) Ugh... A dull pain throbbed at the back of his head, and his stomach growled in hunger. Ken was slowly regaining consciousness, but an overwhelming weight seemed to press down on his body. He tried to open his eyes, but... What¡¯s going on? An odd sensation swept through him. This slight rocking, the constant vibration beneath him... He knew this feeling too well. He was in motion. A car? Still unable to open his eyes, he could only guess at his situation. But one thing was certain: he wasn¡¯t on a bench anymore. No, he was sitting... on a seat. And he was right. Ken found himself currently in the back of a black van, the very one that had stopped in front of him just before he lost consciousness. In other words... He¡¯d been kidnapped. A chill ran down his spine. He tried again to open his eyes, without success. It wasn¡¯t the pain that kept him from doing so. No... My eyes... Why...? A brutal realization hit him. They¡¯re taped shut. Damn! His breathing quickened. He tried to speak, but only muffled groans escaped. Ugh! Ugh! His mouth was taped shut. Panic surged as he attempted to move his hands... Impossible. They were tightly bound together. His legs too. What the hell is going on?! Can someone explain what¡¯s happening?! He struggled, thrashing in his seat. His tense muscles screamed in protest, but his restraints didn¡¯t budge an inch. Then suddenly¡ª ¡°Easy, big guy... Calm down.¡± A mocking male voice rang out right next to him. Ken froze. An unpleasant shiver coursed through his body. A cold, metallic pressure pressed against his forehead.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. A gun...? His heart skipped a beat. The object on his skin... There was no mistaking it. It was a pistol. A Desert Eagle. The man facing him increased the pressure of the barrel, as if savoring his helplessness. "... Before you get a nice little hole in your brain ahead of schedule." The threat was clear. Yet something felt off. Ken should have been terrified. He should have been trembling, his survival instincts screaming at him to act. But none of that happened. Huh? His mind was boiling, unable to comprehend what was happening. Why... Why am I so calm? His heart was beating normally. His breathing steady. Not a drop of sweat, not a single tremor. It was... strange. Is this a joke? He tried to assess the situation. Okay, let¡¯s clarify things. I¡¯ve just been kidnapped. I¡¯m tied up, gagged, and blindfolded, and there¡¯s a gun pressed to my forehead. So, can someone explain... Why am I so calm?! He forced his mind to analyze his own body, searching for a rational explanation. His heart wasn¡¯t beating faster than usual. His breathing was controlled, effortless. He felt no fear. Have I become numb to fear? No. That wasn¡¯t it. He still remembered what it felt like to be afraid. His past was full of it. Fear, he knew all too well. But right now... It was like his entire body was whispering to him: A gun? So what? The man next to him hummed a cheerful tune, tapping his forehead with the gun every now and then. But Ken... still felt nothing. No dread, no anger, not even curiosity. Just... cold indifference. An absurd thought crossed his mind. So this is what it¡¯s like to lose your mind? Yeah... That would make more sense than going crazy. After everything I¡¯ve been through... it wouldn¡¯t be surprising. The car kept moving, the atmosphere inside still heavy, with no real change. But in reality, Ken was experiencing something completely unprecedented. I¡¯m not dreaming, am I? Until just a few hours ago, his instincts had been those of an ordinary human. But at this very moment... something had changed. His body, or rather his intuition, was whispering something absurd. If I wanted to... I could neutralize the man next to me. Not just him. I could also take down the driver¡ªprobably his accomplice¡ªand get out of this car without a hitch. And all this, despite the restraints holding me down. Such a thought should have made him laugh. How could he fight, tied up as he was? No... This isn¡¯t just a thought. This isn¡¯t some desperate fantasy of escape. It¡¯s a certainty. It¡¯s insane... His mind was already drawing up a precise attack plan. Every movement, every strike, every reaction from his opponents. Everything was clear. It was like... a pre-installed program in his brain. An almost imperceptible smirk, barely visible beneath the tape sealing his mouth, curled his lips. Since when... do I think like this? Then, suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind. CQC. His heart skipped a beat. No matter how I think about it... this pattern looks like the CQC I saw in that movie! Images of close combat scenes, neutralization techniques... But why? Then, like a distant echo, another memory resurfaced. [ Permanent Privilege ¡®CQC Expert¡¯ granted. End of free trial. ] ... Huh? He remembered. Or rather, he had seen something. A blue screen. A robotic voice before he passed out. I wasn¡¯t hallucinating... He didn¡¯t know why, but he felt that this voice was intimately linked to the unnaturally calm state he was experiencing right now. This absurd confidence, almost supernatural. He still doubted it. But one thing was certain: I can take them down. He was sure of it. Not some vague feeling. Not a hypothesis. An absolute certainty. His instincts weren¡¯t lying. He knew that, one way or another, he could win. Imagining a plan was one thing. Putting it into practice, another... He took a deep breath, deliberately slowing his heartbeat. I¡¯ll wait a little longer. Everything that was happening to him today was insane. A series of events that no logic could explain. He didn¡¯t understand anything anymore. His bearings, his beliefs... everything was collapsing. No... This isn¡¯t reality. It¡¯s a nightmare. A simple, delirious dream he hoped to wake up from as soon as possible. ... Sigh. He exhaled slowly, trying to calm himself. But just as the universe seemed to conspire against him, a new event shattered his fragile equilibrium. A blue interface suddenly appeared in front of his blindfolded eyes. Huh...?! He couldn¡¯t see anything naturally, but strangely, he could still see this blue interface despite his blindfold. Inscriptions appeared before his eyes, followed by the same relentless mechanical voice. [ Mandatory Quarterly Quest - Level 1: Bartender Duration: 2 weeks Paid Skills: Expert Server: 10,000 £¤ (1 week) Gossip Expert: 1,000 £¤ (1 week) Expert Cleaner: 100 £¤ (1 week) Penalty for failure: -100,000 £¤ Penalty for inability to pay: Death. ] Ken stopped breathing. OH. MY. GOD. Chapter 5: Bartender (2) Ken sat silently in the back of the van, his mind racing with the bizarre events of the past few hours. Wait, hold on... So, it wasn¡¯t a dream earlier? Not only could he see that blue interface despite the blindfold covering his eyes, but now he was hearing voices in his head. And since no one in the van was reacting... Does that mean I¡¯m the only one who can see this? The interface disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and the robotic voice fell silent. Yet, Ken remained frozen, lost in deep thought. The book...? His heart skipped a beat. Shit... It all started when that old man gave it to me... Even though the circumstances were different, the novel mentioned that the protagonist had seen something similar to this blue interface when he hit rock bottom. What is this book, anyway...? And who is this old man? A brutal migraine hit him like a truck. Argh... Ken gritted his teeth. God, I¡¯m sick of being surprised like this. His heart wouldn¡¯t be able to handle it at this rate. He took a deep breath and made a decision. If I make it out of this mess alive... I¡¯m done asking myself existential questions about this damn blue interface. Ken was still in the van, struggling to bear the irritating humming of his kidnapper sitting next to him. The driver, on the other hand, took a quick glance in the rearview mirror, watching the bound boy in the back. He¡¯s way too calm¡­ This is strange. He¡¯s not panicking, not even struggling.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Has he already accepted his fate? Or worse¡­ Does he not fear death anymore? How could such a young kid give up on life so easily? What must he have been through to get to this point? The driver clicked his tongue, shaking off these unnecessary thoughts. Tsk. It¡¯s life, kid. With a little luck, you¡¯ll walk out of this alive. Even if it means losing an organ along the way, it¡¯s still better than dying, right? Snapping out of his thoughts, he gradually slowed the vehicle before stopping in front of a massive building. Well, calling it a "building" was generous. With its worn rectangular structure and a half-faded sign saying "Goods Reception" on a rusty panel, it looked more like an abandoned warehouse. They had arrived at their destination. Opening the door, the driver stepped out first, nonchalantly tossing a quick command to his accomplice in the back. ¡°Bring him in quick.¡± Then, without a second glance, he headed toward the warehouse door. ¡°Oky, boss!¡± his accomplice responded cheerfully. He turned to Ken, flashing a mocking smile. ¡°You¡¯ve been good, kid. As a reward, I¡¯m gonna let you admire your new home. You can even scream with joy if you want.¡± With a brutal gesture, he ripped the tape off Ken¡¯s mouth, then removed the blindfold that had been covering his eyes. The sudden light made Ken squint, but his face remained strangely impassive. Still so calm¡­ The man raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing him from head to toe. What¡¯s his problem? He quickly dismissed the thought with a shrug. Everyone reacts differently to danger, after all. Without further hesitation, he untied the ropes around Ken¡¯s ankles, allowing him to walk. Then, gripping the ropes still binding Ken¡¯s wrists, he dragged him out of the van. One hand applied gentle pressure to Ken¡¯s back, urging him to move, while the other prominently held a Desert Eagle. A silent message, but a clear one. "Be good, kid." Without a word, they headed for the warehouse. As they neared the entrance, Ken instinctively assessed the situation. Two guards. Unarmed. Big guys in casual clothes, casually chatting, not paying much attention to the newcomers. When Ken and his captor got close enough, one of the guards casually remarked. ¡°Hahaha, you¡¯re gonna keep your head for one more day.¡± The man holding Ken growled before replying sharply. ¡°Oh, shut up¡­¡± He paused, letting out a sigh. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll admit, this time it was close. The doc would¡¯ve killed us.¡± The second guard burst into laughter. ¡°Of course! How much chaos have you guys caused these last six months? Hahahaha!¡± ¡°Tsk... Open the damn door, asshole.¡± ¡°Alright, alright.¡± The first guard complied, pushing open the heavy metal door with one hand. As soon as they stepped inside, Ken and his captor entered the warehouse. The place was enormous and dilapidated. Broken windows let in a pale light, casting flickering shadows on the cracked, dusty floor. Everywhere, torn crates, pieces of rusted metal, and abandoned pallets testified to the building¡¯s decay. The roof, riddled with holes in places, let moisture in, forming small puddles on the concrete. Every creak of the metal beams echoed ominously in the empty space, while the air, heavy with mildew and rust, assaulted their noses. Ken was guided to a room at the far right of the building. Inside, there was only a table and three chairs. Nothing more. He was forced to sit on one of them. Eight people. Only one of them is armed. This is going to be easier than I thought. Ken swallowed hard. Wait¡­ ¡°easier than I thought?¡± What the hell am I becoming? A chill ran down his spine. What the hell am I turning into? Meanwhile, the two kidnappers continued their conversation as if nothing was wrong. They were alone with him in the room. ¡°I called the Boss, she¡¯ll be here soon. Apparently, she¡¯s already on her way.¡± ¡°Oh, alright¡­ We¡¯ve dodged a bullet this time.¡± ¡°Yeah. For now, keep an eye on him, I¡¯m gonna have a smoke.¡± ¡°Got it, boss.¡± The night was drawing to a close. It was now 3 AM. Tuesday. The heavy silence was suddenly shattered. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! Gunshots. ¡°Huh?! What the hell was that?!¡± ¡°Shit, it¡¯s coming from the room at the back!¡± Why the hell did that idiot start shooting? The warehouse immediately descended into chaos. Seven people rushed toward the far end of the building, some arming themselves with whatever they could find along the way, ready to attack if necessary. --- Holy shit¡­ Did I just do that? Ken looked incredulously at the scene unfolding before him, before a sly smile crept across his lips. ¡°This is insane, the CQC, cousin.¡± Chapter 6: Bartender (3) Five minutes before the gunshots... ¡°Excuse me, sir, can I ask you a question?¡± Ken, his hands still bound, calmly addressed his captor. The man was sitting across from him, his feet casually resting on the table, absentmindedly playing with his gun. The man turned his gaze towards him, a playful smile tugging at his lips, before shrugging his shoulders. ¡°Ah, my little guy... I thought you were calm, but you¡¯re actually quite the chatterbox, huh? Sorry, but I can''t answer your questions.¡± Damn... don¡¯t say that while pointing your gun at me, you bastard. Despite the palpable tension, Ken remained calm. He stared the man in the eyes and, with a steady but determined voice, said: ¡°I know I¡¯m going to die soon. At least give me the privilege of knowing why. Why am I dying?¡± The man stretched out in his chair, a mischievous smile forming on his face. ¡°I guess it¡¯s because you¡¯re just unlucky.¡± Ken, unfazed, responded with unrelenting coldness: ¡°That¡¯s not an answer.¡± The man burst into laughter. ¡°HAHAHA, you¡¯re a funny one.¡± He studied Ken, as if searching for a crack in his calm demeanor. ¡°I can see it in your eyes¡­ this situation doesn¡¯t scare you, huh?¡± Ken kept his gaze steady, unreactive, but inside, his mind was racing. Answer me. Amused by Ken¡¯s indifference, the man sighed. ¡°Pfff, it¡¯s not even funny anymore¡­ The reason is very simple. Madam is a scientist. I don¡¯t know all the details, but apparently, she¡¯s working on a project that requires a human experiment. And you, my friend, have been chosen by fate as the apostle to advance human technology.¡± Clap. Clap. Clap. The man sarcastically applauded, his face twisting into an expression of madness. ¡°Congratulations. Congratulations¡­¡± A heavy silence filled the room. Ken was frozen, his thoughts swirling, but his face remained impassive. The man continued, his voice slower now, almost devoid of enthusiasm. ¡°Madam is rich enough to hire people willing to do this kind of thing. But from what I know, she never buys¡­ anything useless.¡± He paused, then concluded, his tone almost theatrical: Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. ¡°There, you know everything. Naturally, after doing a service, I need compensation. What are you giving me in return?¡± The weapon was now aimed at Ken. But Ken, though outwardly calm, was lost in a whirlwind of confused thoughts. His mind wandered through memories of old films, mad scientists, and forbidden experiments. These crazy bastards, is that what they want to make me? But wait... do mad scientists really do this kind of experiment? Outside, he appeared frozen, stoic. But inside, it was chaos. Argh... damn it. He sighed deeply, his breathing slow but heavy. I¡¯m going to go through something worse than death if things go as planned. He closed his eyes for a moment, centering himself. I¡¯ve already lost everything. I¡¯m nothing now. A subtle, almost imperceptible grin formed on his lips. I have nothing left to lose now. So I¡¯m going to bet everything on you, Blue. (He had lazily named the blue interface "Blue" instead of bothering to look up its real name.) With a nearly imperceptible movement, Ken activated his instinct, and immediately, an attack plan took shape in his mind, clear and precise. He flashed a slight smirk. Fuck this fucking world. Ken slowly opened his mouth, his eyes locking onto the man who was aiming his Desert Eagle at him. He wasn¡¯t afraid, not this time. ¡°Would becoming handicapped for life in both hands be enough payment for you?¡± The man seemed initially surprised, his eyes widening at the question. But that surprise lasted only a few seconds before turning into a smug, almost amused smile. ¡°Ha¡­¡± His laughter quickly faded, replaced by an icy coldness. The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly, as if time itself had frozen. The man stared Ken straight in the eyes, his gaze as sharp as a blade. ¡°You¡¯re really different, huh¡­¡± he said, in a tone that was half-amused, half-crazy. ¡°You¡¯re funny, I¡¯ll give you that. But I think I¡¯m going to regret not being able to deliver you to the doctor.¡± His smile widened before transforming into a chilling expression. No more trace of joking, just a palpable threat. The gun aimed at Ken remained unmoving, each second of waiting an eternity. ¡°You really think I can¡¯t kill you right now?¡± the man asked, his voice lower, more threatening. Without flinching, Ken replied in a voice that betrayed an absolute mastery of the situation: ¡°No, you can¡¯t.¡± The silence that followed was heavy. The man, apparently disturbed by this response, squinted his eyes as if searching for a flaw in Ken¡¯s stoic gaze. Ken, however, did not blink. In his mind, everything was clear. He had already played his cards. He wasn¡¯t relying on luck anymore, but on his expertise. He had gone from being a victim to becoming an unrelenting strategist. The man, disturbed, hesitated for a moment. Then he sat up slightly, showing a predatory grin. ¡°Hmmm... I forgot one detail. The doctor needs a human, dead or alive. So... do you still want to continue this conversation?¡± Ken felt his heart race faster, but he showed no sign of it. He stared at the barrel of the gun, his mind working at a fever pitch. Every movement of the man, every word, every hesitation became a target to seize. In a calm voice, colder than ever, he retorted: ¡°I think being handicapped in both hands will be more than enough for you to understand.¡± A twisted smirk distorted the man¡¯s face. He burst into laughter, but this laugh was the laugh of a predator. He leaned forward, tongue out, his eyes filled with a sadistic gleam. ¡°Well, you¡¯ve made your choice.¡± He moved his weapon closer to Ken, one final motion before uttering one last phrase. ¡°We¡¯ll see each other in hell, my friend.¡± Ken felt the pressure build as the man aimed the Desert Eagle at his forehead. His hands were still bound, but thanks to the ¡°Expert in CQC¡± skill granted by the system, he knew he had a chance. Since the beginning of this confrontation, he had been discreetly using his skills to test the ropes binding him. The quick and precise movements that ¡°Expert in CQC¡± instilled in his brain allowed him to search for a weakness in his restraints. The man, visibly impatient, aimed the gun with cold determination and fired. Bang. The sound of the shot filled the air, but Ken had anticipated this moment. In an instant, he had freed his wrists, and the bullet grazed his face as he lunged forward. His reflexes were sharpened, each movement quick and precise thanks to the system¡¯s expertise. He rolled on the ground to avoid another shot... Bang. ...and got back up, dodging two more shots with extraordinary agility. The fourth shot was fired... Bang. ...but Ken was already mere inches from the man. With a brutal move, he grabbed the weapon and, in one fluid motion, forced the man to fire in an uncontrollable direction. Bang. In the blink of an eye, Ken used his free wrist to grab the assailant¡¯s arms and with a sharp jerk, broke both his hands in one swift motion. The man screamed, his weapon falling to the floor, while Ken remained calm and unrelenting. But that was from the outside. Rather than the confusion in his thoughts, Ken felt a certain excitement seeing his captor, once so haughty, now writhing in agony on the floor. When he finally realized what he had just done, he thought: Damn¡­ I did that? His eyes sparkled with excitement, and a half-smile formed on his lips. ¡°CQC is crazy, cousin.¡± --- As the seven men rushed toward the small room from where the gunshots had come, a sleek but discreet black car stopped abruptly in front of the warehouse. The rear door opened, and a tall man in a black jacket quickly stepped out, glancing around him before positioning himself near the car. On the other side, a slim and confident silhouette appeared: a young woman, breathtakingly beautiful, with short black hair speckled with freckles. She had an almost unreal air, as young as Ken, but with unparalleled grace and femininity. The second man, also imposing, exited the car with a determined gait. But before they could even prepare, the lady stepped forward with a confident stride, her gaze already fixed on the warehouse. She addressed her guards in a calm voice, but one filled with charisma: ¡°It seems lively in there.¡± The two men, visibly worried, drew their weapons, but one of them tried to stop her, speaking urgently: ¡°Madam, please, stay here. We¡¯ll see what¡¯s going on.¡± But she didn¡¯t even look at him. Without another word, she walked resolutely toward the warehouse. Her smile widened, almost mischievous. ¡°No, this looks interesting. Let¡¯s go.¡± She entered with a certain lightness, a gleam of curiosity in her eyes, her thoughts already in motion: This could be my new toy causing all this ruckus. Interesting. Chapter 7: Bartender (4) As the seven armed men rushed toward the source of the gunfire, the door to the room suddenly swung open, stopping them dead in their tracks. A body was hurled toward them¡ªit was one of their own, lying on the ground, barely clinging to life. His hands were in a state so horrifying that even their worst imaginations couldn¡¯t compare. ¡ª ¡°Huh? Is that... Dai?¡± ¡ª ¡°Hey, Dai! What the hell happened to you? What¡¯s with your hands?¡± The men stood frozen, staring at Dai''s trembling body. He struggled to breathe, his gaze locked onto the open doorway. With a broken, rasping voice, he muttered: ¡ª "It¡¯s... it¡¯s... ugh, that son of a bitch..." Instantly, their eyes snapped to the entrance. There stood a man clad in a black hoodie and matching pants, a half-smile playing on his lips. His voice was calm, almost playful. ¡ª ¡°Let¡¯s play a game. You¡¯re the mice... and I¡¯m the tiger.¡± (A/N: Wait, wasn¡¯t it supposed to be the cat and the mouse?) Ken felt his instincts screaming¡ªthere was no way he could lose here. His body was already locked into flow state, his movements precise, his mind sharp. The driver, Dai¡¯s accomplice, widened his eyes in shock. ¡ª That kid... he did this? But that thought barely had time to form before he shook it off and roared: ¡ª ¡°Kill that son of a bitch!¡± The seven men, armed with makeshift weapons, rushed forward with confidence. But Ken had no intention of being overwhelmed. He weaved through the first attacker¡¯s strike, disarmed the second in an instant, and with a swift wrist lock, sent him crashing to the ground. A powerful kick to the stomach sent another flying into the wall. The fight was over in mere seconds. Ken was like a machine, dismantling his opponents with cold precision. A strike to the ribs here, an elbow to the temple there¡ªone by one, they collapsed like ragdolls. When only two remained, Ken flicked a knife toward the driver, who had just turned to flee. The blade embedded itself into the wall beside him, stopping him dead in his tracks. The last remaining thug lunged at Ken in a desperate attempt, but Ken twisted out of the way and delivered a brutal chop to the back of his neck. The man crumpled to the ground.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Six men, completely incapacitated. Ken stood among them, breathing steadily, completely in control. This wasn¡¯t a fight. It was a dance. Ken turned his gaze toward the driver, who was now trembling in terror. ¡ª ¡°S-stay back, you bastard!¡± Just as Ken took another step forward, a slow, deliberate sound echoed through the warehouse. Clap. Clap. Clap. ¡ª ¡°Impressive. That was quite the show¡­ You¡¯re special forces, aren¡¯t you?¡± The voice came from the far end of the room. Three figures had just entered¡ªtwo towering men in black suits flanking a woman with a cold, mesmerizing beauty. Her short black hair framed sharp, piercing eyes. Clad entirely in black, she radiated an aura of danger and intrigue. The two men leveled their pistols at Ken, their movements slow and deliberate. They closed the distance, stopping just five steps away. The driver, who had been frozen with fear moments ago, suddenly grinned and ran toward the woman. ¡ª ¡°Doctor! Doctor, this¡ª¡± "Dispose of him." Bang. Bang. He never got to finish his sentence. Without even sparing him a glance, the woman gave the order, her voice devoid of emotion. One of her guards pulled the trigger without hesitation, putting two bullets straight through his head. His body collapsed in a lifeless heap. Ken, however, remained still. He didn¡¯t flinch. His mind had already shifted into combat mode. His focus sharpened, his heartbeat steady. His body was primed, every muscle under control. This was what he was¡ªan expert in close-quarters combat. The woman watched him with growing interest, a hint of color rising to her cheeks, an unsettling excitement flickering in her eyes. ¡ª ¡°Tell me... I need to know where this magnificent little toy of mine comes from.¡± ¡ª ¡°You¡¯re the doctor they were talking about, aren¡¯t you? The one who experiments on humans?¡± A predatory smile stretched across her lips. ¡ª ¡°Oh¡­ so you even know the rules of the game you and I are about to play? How delightful. Too bad that mutt barked when he shouldn¡¯t have. A little housekeeping was necessary.¡± A thick silence filled the air. Ken and the woman locked eyes, reading each other. Then, she chuckled, tilting her head. ¡ª ¡°You see these two?¡± She gestured at her guards, still pointing their guns at Ken. ¡°Of course you do. Former special forces, both of them. Highly trained killers.¡± Her smirk widened. ¡ª ¡°So, if you understand the situation, be a good boy and come with me. I¡¯ll take excellent care of you, my precious little toy.¡± Ken let out a low chuckle before replying in a mocking tone: ¡ª ¡°I have a better idea. I take down your two guard dogs... and negotiate your life instead. Sound fair?¡± Her smile didn''t falter. ¡ª ¡°Oh, I do love your confidence¡­ But you know very well that whether you¡¯re dead or alive, you¡¯ll still be useful to me.¡± Ken glanced at the muzzles of the guns aimed at him and smirked. Game on. ¡ª ¡°Eliminate him,¡± the woman ordered coldly. Ken dodged the gunfire, his reflexes pushing his body faster than his mind could register. He sprinted across the room, moving with lethal precision. His first opponent struck first¡ªa fast, calculated punch. Ken ducked, seized the man¡¯s arm, and twisted it into a brutal lock. The man barely had time to react before Ken slammed him into the floor. A knee strike to the gut sent him flying back. The second man lunged, attempting to grab Ken by the throat. But Ken slipped under his arms, flipped forward, and landed behind him. Without hesitation, he locked his arm around the man¡¯s neck in a crushing chokehold. The man thrashed, but Ken tightened his grip like a steel vice. Within seconds, the fight was over. It had taken Ken less than a minute to take down two former special forces veterans. The woman, who had exuded such confidence moments ago, was now frozen, eyes wide with disbelief. What the hell was that? Is that even humanly possible? Dodging bullets... taking down two elite fighters like they were nothing? Who IS he? Ken stepped forward, eyes locked on hers. Damn, Blue, I should¡¯ve trusted you sooner, he thought. He wanted to grin, to laugh, to celebrate surviving in such an absurdly badass way. But not yet. He was still hungry. The game wasn¡¯t over. A ridiculous thought crossed his mind. What if I had chosen ¡°Ant Trainer¡± instead of ¡°CQC Expert¡± just for fun? A shiver ran down his spine at the horrifying idea. Nope. Let¡¯s not go there. He raised the Desert Eagle, aiming it squarely at the woman¡¯s forehead. A smirk curled his lips. ¡ª ¡°Let¡¯s see how much your life is worth.¡± She swallowed, tension flickering in her eyes. ¡ª ¡°What... do you want?¡± Ken¡¯s smirk widened. ¡ª ¡°Two simple things.¡± ¡ª ¡°30 million yen.¡± Her expression darkened. ¡ª ¡°And?¡± Ken held her gaze, his tone unwavering. ¡ª ¡°Get me a bartender job.¡±