cursedgamer1
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Chapter 22: Sloppy Footwork
🕑 Added 2025-08-03 18:21:28 +0000 UTCThe ramen shop wasn’t far, so I decided to walk.
I hadn’t brought my taxi for the same reason I chose to work in Newark in the first place—to keep my civilian life clean, at least, for as long as possible.
While walking, I checked a few notifications I got after talking to Reina.
Due to your actions, you acquired a new skill: Acting (Novice).
Nice. Completely underrated but extremely helpful.
I checked the second notification.
Congratulations! New mission source unlocked.
Complete your first task for Reina to receive more missions.
It didn’t provide any helpful information.
No, wait.
If the jobs from Reina were considered missions, then…
I quickly checked the third and last notification.
Mission: Extort Ramen Shop Owner
Description: Convince the Ramen Shop owner to start giving protection money every month to Reina’s cartel.
Reward: 50$, More missions from Reina
Failure Conditions: Ramen Shop owner’s death, Use of excessive force.
Failure Consequences: You can no longer accept missions from Reina’s mission line
I laughed. Loudly. Uncontrollably.
"Mom, that weird guy’s laughing like a psycho," a kid pointed out.
“Don’t look, honey. He might be contagious,” the mom muttered, yanking her spawn away like I was patient zero. She quickly turned around with her kid and left in the opposite direction.
“...”
Whatever, I was too happy to care about some random people.
Instead, I opened my map, and as expected, it showed an icon for the ramen shop since the job was considered a mission for the system, so the objective was marked on the map.
As I willed it, markers appeared, visible only to me, that showed me the direction to the ramen shop.
I was thinking of asking around to find the shop, but the navigation system made the job slightly easier.
On the way, I started thinking about my new “colleagues.” About the place, which looked like a den of wolves.
Up until now, I’d barely seen anyone stronger than F1—average human tier. A few F2s popped up here and there: the thug who pulled a gun on me, Felicia, maybe one or two more.
The only F3 I’d met before today was Uncle Niko, which—let’s be real—probably had something to do with him being a former GTA protagonist.
The F3 tier meant the peak of human capabilities. In a way, it was harder to reach it than E1, which anyone can reach if they had a superpower.
The discipline and dedication required to reach that level on their own with only training were not something just anybody could achieve.
Moreover, you couldn’t grind your way to F3 on effort alone. If you didn’t have the DNA lottery in your favor, you’d plateau long before it.
Sure, there were serums, black market enhancers, shady programs—but most people would never even see those, let alone survive them.
But what did I see today?
Eight guards, three bartenders, and Reina, a total of 12 F2s.
The guard on the first-floor corridor and the four in Reina’s office, a total of 5 F3s.
And those were just the ones I saw.
If not talking about the F2s, whether those F3s attained their level through training or external help, it showed the deep background of a gang that was called one of the three owners of Newark’s underworld.
This was just Newark. What about New York City? How many monsters does Kingpin keep on payroll? What’s The Hand hiding in the shadows? Hellfire Club? S.H.I.E.L.D.? Hydra? Roxxon?
The list could go on and on. The deeper I thought, the darker it got.
I stopped and took a deep breath. [Gamer’s Mind] kicked in before I started panicking—no use spiraling.
The path is very long. Haste will do me no good.
I took another deep breath.
Let’s take one step at a time.
Whatever, let’s forget about things outside my control for now. Let’s focus on the objective.
I was already near the ramen shop. The mission was too easy. Compared to my other missions, how difficult could it be to convince a shop owner, even if I couldn’t use much force?
Compared to the beasts back in Reina’s den, this guy was probably a pushover.
“...”
I just raised a flag, didn’t I?
With such thoughts, I arrived in front of the shop.
The shop was a small, quiet place. Only one customer sat inside, slurping noodles.
“Welcome.” An old, gruff voice came from behind the counter.
I looked up.
The owner was an old Asian man. White hair, mustache, light beard. He wore a simple shirt, pants, and an apron. He looked like a frail old man.
I didn’t like the idea of bullying him for others’ profit. But I had a job to do, and I hoped he wasn’t as stubborn as old people his age.
At least my guess was correct. Compared to those monsters in the bar, this old man was not worth mentioning.
But I still used [Observe] on the old man as a habit.
Name: Kobayashi Araki
Tier: F3
“...”
Fuck my life.
I felt as if I had left the wolf’s den only to enter a snake’s den.
I calmly walked in and sat on one of the empty chairs.
“One bowl of your best ramen,” I said to the old man, once again pasting my interview smile on my face.
The old man nodded and went inside the kitchen to cook. It looked like he had no other staff.
Soon, he brought a bowl of ramen and placed it in front of me. He got a pair of disposable chopsticks together, but I didn’t know how to use them.
“Fork, please,” I requested.
He nodded without judging and went inside. Soon, he brought a spoon and fork and handed them to me.
“Thank you,” I said. He nodded and returned to the counter.
The other was almost done with his food. I also felt hungry seeing him eat, and I dug into my food.
The ramen was very delicious. The old man must be very proud of his craft.
I slowly slurped the noodles, enjoying the taste. The other customer left after eating, and it was only me and the old man in the shop now.
I finished my bowl soon and burped in delight.
“It was great, old man,” I said, turning my head towards him.
He nodded again, this time showing a slight smile.
Yep, he was proud of his craft.
I took a deep breath. It was time for the talk.
The old man felt nice, and I felt even more dislike for threatening him for someone else’s profit. Of course, if it were for my profit, then it would be a different matter.
At the same time, I felt fear. What if the old man got offended and thought it would be better to turn me into fertilizer?
But since dealing with the old man would decide whether I would get more missions from Reina or not, it kind of became my business, too.
With conflicted emotions, I asked, “Hey, old man, do you know about Reina Cortez?”
His eyes suddenly turned sharp. I felt the same pressure I felt when I was in Reina’s office. His presence felt greater than Reina’s. The pressure he exuded was only slightly less than the combined pressure of the five individuals in Reina’s office.
“I do,” he said in a gruff voice. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you see,” I thought hard about how to say this. “She is kind of unhappy that you refused to give the protection money.”
The old man smiled. His demeanour changed. From a frail old man, he now looked like a predator ready to pounce on his prey. The smile looked feral.
Overall, he still looked like he did before, but the aura around him was completely different.
“And what,” he asked softly, “are you going to do about it?”
I felt a greater fear than when everyone in Reina’s office locked in on me.
But at the same time, I felt rage.
Rage at my weakness. Rage at how the old man looked down on me.
Yes, I was afraid of him; my instincts screamed at me to apologize and run away, but my pride screamed louder.
If I bowed to this man, I’d bow to anyone stronger. That wasn’t going to happen.
Doom attained the title of “God Emperor Doom”, regardless of its short-lived nature or the circumstances of its acquisition. He didn’t achieve it by bowing to someone stronger but by facing them and looking them in the eye.
So why should I? What’s the maximum that could happen? If I couldn't get jobs from Reina anymore, I could just look for someone else.
“Nothing,” I said calmly. The chaos in my mind settled, and peace returned to my face.
“I can do nothing,” I continued, my voice steady.
The old man’s eyes flickered slightly upon seeing that. The pressure eased a little.
I’d accepted the consequences.
But that didn’t mean I was done.
“If you can’t do anything, then pay up and leave,” the old man said dismissively.
I didn’t move from the chair; instead, I looked him directly in the eyes and smiled. Not the fake smile from before, but a genuine one.
For a second, I’d forgotten my philosophy.
Some things are outside my control. No point whining about it. Better to enjoy the game… and flip the table when the time’s right.
Thanks for the reminder, old man. This will be fun.
“Why did you open your shop here?” I asked, completely ignoring what he said earlier.
The old man’s eyes snapped back to me. The pressure was back. But I ignored it and let it wash over me as I leaned back and looked at him lazily.
“What does that have anything to do with you, brat?” he said with a frown.
“Nothing,” I said easily. “Just curious.”
He stayed silent, his frown fixed. I didn’t mind—it just made the game more interesting.
“From where I’m sitting,” I went on, “there are a few possibilities. Money problems. Family nearby. Maybe hiding from someone. Could be anything.”
He didn’t reply, but his face became expressionless, as if he didn’t want me to read the answer from his face.
“Whatever the reason,” I said, “you had to know what kind of neighborhood this is. Market research is rule one for running a business.”
The old man still maintained his poker face, but the pressure I felt was mostly gone. He was now more interested in listening to my tale.
“But you still opened your business here, despite the consequences.” I held up two fingers. “That can mean one of the two things.”
“One,” I folded the middle finger, only showing my index finger, “you are a delusional idiot who thinks as long as you keep your head in the ground, the danger will pass on its own.”
“Two,” I said, raising my middle finger again, “you’re confident enough in your skills to handle anything that comes your way.”
For the first time, interest flickered in his eyes. “And what do you think it is?”
I smirked. “Me? I think both.”
His frown deepened—not with anger, but curiosity.
“You may be strong enough to handle multiple goons, even those armed with weapons. But you are a fool if you think that you can even dodge all the bullets flying your way,” I said.
I picked up the glass filled with water that the old man brought with the ramen and drank two mouthfuls to wet my dry throat.
“Or more like, you let your pride and stubbornness blind you,” I continued. “Your pride can’t allow you to lower your head to someone lower than you or even equal to you, even if they could very well kill you.”
When I’d asked why he opened shop here, and his pressure flared again, one word had popped into my head.
Bushido.
I didn’t know why, but I felt that was the answer to my question.
The old man didn’t say a word, but his eyes flickered.
Time for the kill.
“Old man, do you think that is pride that stopped you from accepting Reina’s terms?” I asked.
The old man looked at me for a long time, but in the end, he nodded and finally spoke, “My honor won’t allow me to surrender to such dishonest people.”
“Honor?” I asked, and then I laughed loudly.
The old man frowned again. For the first time, killing intent flickered in his eyes. He might have felt that I was disrespecting his honor, but I didn’t care.
Suddenly, my laugh stopped, and my face turned serious.
“Pride? Honor? No, old man,” I said in a low voice. “It is neither.”
He looked ready to kill, but he still didn’t move. If I didn’t give him a proper explanation, I wasn’t leaving the shop alive.
“Pride without substance is arrogance. What you consider as pride is arrogance all along. You let your skills make you delusional. You might be capable in your past, able to back your arrogance, but are you now?” I asked sharply.
“I am capable enough to kill you,” the old man said with steel in his voice.
“You are,” I accepted. “You can even kill the other goons Reina may send to you; hell, even her top lieutenants aren’t your match. But how long do you think it will last? There will come a time when Reina will think you are not worth the trouble, and it is better to just dispose of you. By then, you will be just another corpse at the bottom of the Hudson.”
His killing intent eased—but his eyes still held defiance.
“It is your pride that you think you can handle multiple thugs with weapons, maybe even with a few light firearms.”
“It is your arrogance that you think you can still deal with multiple thugs with heavy firearms who will target your shop in a horde.”
“And, you aren’t delusional enough to think that the cops will help you, right?”
A crack appeared in his expression.
“If you truly had the strength to defend your pride,” I said lightly, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”
The old man showed a somber expression as if thinking deeply about my words.
“I don’t know why you opened here, and I don’t need to,” I said with a smirk. “But if this is all about honor… why not think outside the box?”
The old man became confused at my words, but again looked at me curiously.
“Since you opened your shop here, you must have a reason. Then why don’t you think of paying the cartels as a way of buying your peace?” I suggested.
The old man looked even more confused.
“Let me tell you a few reasons why it is a good choice to accept her demand,” I said, and started listing the reasons.
“Reina should have enough sway in Newark’s underworld that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone bothering you. Unless, of course, it is entirely out of her control.”
“Your shop is near her base of operations, so street punks won’t risk making trouble this close to her throne.”
“The cartels usually have a code they follow, just like you have yours.”
“And the last, but most important reason. Why think of it as protection money? Think of it as the rent you give to the local lord for peacefully doing business in her territory.”
That was it. That was the most I could squeeze from my brain. Now it was up to the old man whether he would accept or not.
The old man looked at me silently. We just stared at each other.
His expression cracked, and a snort escaped. Finally, it evolved into full-blown laughter.
“I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” he said, still chuckling. “Fine. I’ll pay your ‘rent’.”
Art of Persuasion (61/100) (+1)
The notification only proved that the old man was not lying.
“Appreciate it, old man. I’ll let Reina know,” I said, standing up. “How much for the ramen?”
“Fifteen,” he answered.
I took the money out of my pocket and handed it to him.
He accepted it and kept it, but then he took out a few bills and handed them to me.
I looked at him, confused. He explained, “This is my ‘rent’ for the previous two months.”
Nodding in understanding, I kept the money and turned to leave.
“Hey, brat,” he called me suddenly. I was about to turn back to ask what the matter was, but I heard a whoosh sound.
My eyes widened as I hurriedly jumped to the side. A knife passed by and embedded in the chair in front.
“You tryna kill me, old man?” I screamed in fear.
Even though I could tell that even if I didn’t move, the knife would have at most grazed my arm, that still couldn’t stop the fear in my heart.
But I was not worried he would kill me. With his honor, he would disdain to kill me by attacking from the back.
So, it was most likely a prank. It could be because I had disrespected the old man too much, so he was essentially putting me in my place.
The old man looked at me and judged, “Sloppy footwork.” He completely ignored my outburst.
I sighed in resignation. “Yep, you are not the first one to say that.”
I turned to leave again, but the old man’s voice stopped me.
“Wait.”
I cautiously turned around, fearing another prank, but nothing happened. Instead, the old man looked very serious. He didn’t even show such expression when I disrespected his honor.
He walked past me to the door and switched the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED”. Then he stepped back and sat on a chair.
“Sit,” he said, pointing to the chair in front of him.
I sat, curious.
“Why do you work for her?” He asked.
Ok, why did it suddenly feel like I was in an actual interview?
“I don’t work for her. More like working as a freelancer to gain experience,” I answered honestly.
He frowned. “Shouldn’t you be studying? It’s your age to do so.”
“Oh? I do study. I am in college. Just not in this city to separate my student life from this mess for as long as possible,” I said casually.
His frown deepened. “Then why do it?”
Why do I do it?
Why follow the difficult path?
Why be the villain?
Isn’t it better to be a hero?
Isn’t it better to be a champion of justice?
Isn’t it better to become a beloved idol whom people aspire to follow?
Why indeed?
“For my dream,” I answered without hesitation.
My answer took him aback.
“What is your dream?” He asked, his expression matching my seriousness.
“My dream?” I said with conviction, “It is to rule the world.”
He looked at me intensely. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t judge.
Finally, he said, “It will be extremely difficult, even next to impossible.”
“I know,” I answered with a smile.
“You may lose your life halfway.”
“I am prepared.”
“The world may turn against you.”
“Then I’ll fight the world.”
“Allies may turn on you.”
“True allies won’t.”
“You may be betrayed before you even touch the throne.”
“I expect it.”
The old man turned silent.
I smiled, “I have chosen this road. I know the consequences. And I am prepared to face them.”
The old man closed his eyes as if in meditation. I didn’t disturb him.
“You can leave,” he said with his eyes closed.
I nodded and stood up.
With confident steps, I walked to the door.
“You are too weak, forget the world, you will die if a small gang comes after you.”
My steps faltered as I nearly fell.
Way to boost the confidence, old man.
“I know,” I replied without turning back and kept walking.
“Come here every weekend. You have too much to learn.”
I chuckled, and without stopping this time, I left the shop.
Comments
Kiranx5
Oooo sensei time
