After acquiring this unexpected small fortune, Sushi's mind began whirring like a high-speed processor. He leaned against a cold stone wall, counting the gold in his mind. *?Setting up a local bank account? No, that's a death sentence. A Rank-D adventurer walking in with the earnings of a Rank-A mission is like wearing a 'Rob Me' sign in a den of thieves.?*
As he muttered to himself, the system's cold, mechanical chime interrupted his thoughts.
[Would the User like to try the "System Vault"?]
[Yes / No]
*Click.*
[Congratulations! System Vault is now active.]
[Current Balance: 000]
[Storage Limit (Level 1): 999 Gold Coins]
Sushi narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What's the interest rate? Don't tell me you're going to tax my hard-earned scams."
[Interest Rate: 0.0%. This is a storage service, not a charity.]
He let out a sigh of genuine relief. For once, the system wasn't trying to bleed him dry. He deposited every single coin he had.
[Current Balance: 500 Gold Coins]
Satisfied, he headed back to the shack. He found the old man pacing nervously, but Sushi didn't say a word. He simply crashed onto his makeshift bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, leaving the old man to suffer through a night of agonizing uncertainty.
---
The next morning, the sun barely crawled over the horizon. Sushi sat on a rickety wooden chair, holding a steaming cup of tea. He looked like a nobleman enjoying a garden view, despite being surrounded by rotting wood and the smell of damp earth.
"You little brat!" the old man barked, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. "I haven't slept a wink, and here you are, acting like you're on vacation! Say something! Explain that smug look on your face before I lose my mind!"
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
*Sluuuuurp...*
Sushi took a long, exaggerated sip of his tea, letting the steam fog his vision. "Ahh..." He looked at the trembling old man. "Relax, old-timer. The matter is in safe hands now. Just enjoy the show."
"Safe hands? What hands?! Tell me the details—" Before the old man could finish his outburst, the very air in the alleyway seemed to solidify. A familiar, suffocating pressure washed over them.
The old man turned slowly, his face turning a ghostly shade of white. They were back.
The slender man in the black suit took a long drag from his cigarette, the tip glowing an angry orange. He exhaled a cloud of gray smoke that drifted toward them like a shroud. "It seems," he said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion, "that you're eager to join your ancestors after all."
The old man spiraled into a state of pure hysteria, his knees buckling. He looked toward his last hope—Sushi.
Sushi remained seated, calmly finishing the last dregs of his tea. He didn't even flinch as the two suited men approached. The slender man narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. He was clearly thinking: *?Didn't I kill this brat yesterday??*
The man shifted his predatory focus from the old man to Sushi. In a flash—a movement so fast the human eye could barely track it—he was standing inches from Sushi's face. "You survived that little 'touch' from yesterday... impressive. You're sturdier than you look."
Sushi stood up, his body trembling slightly, his face pale with visible fear. "You're... you're here for the deed, aren't you?" His voice was shaky, struggling under the weight of the man's oppressive aura.
"I'm glad we understand each other," the man replied, his hand twitching toward his pocket.
Sushi walked toward the back of the alley, rummaging through a pile of junk as if searching for a hidden stash. He turned around slowly, his hand deep in his pocket.
"Found it? Bring it here," the man commanded, his patience wearing thin.
"Y-yes," Sushi stammered. The tension suddenly vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, sharp clarity. He pulled his hand out slowly. "Here it is."
The old man began to wail, "Nooo! It's over! My legacy, my ancestors' pride... all gone!" He pointed a trembling finger at Sushi. "You traitor! You're a backstabbing snake—!"
The old man's voice died in his throat. Sushi wasn't holding a deed. He was holding up his middle finger, aimed directly at the man in the black suit.
The alley fell into a deafening silence for three long seconds.
"You're a dead man!" The slender man exploded with rage. He moved with the speed of sound, his fist a blur of lethal intent aimed straight for Sushi's skull.
But Sushi didn't move. The smirk never left his face. He watched his impending death with the calmness of a man who had already won.
A split second before the fist connected, a heavy, resonant voice boomed from behind Sushi.
"That's enough."
The slender man froze. His fist stopped mere centimeters from Sushi's nose, vibrating with the force of his arrested momentum.
A massive figure stepped forward into the light. The slender man narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening. "Brown."
Mr. Brown didn't waste a single heartbeat. He pulled a crisp, official document from his coat—the legal shield Sushi had secured.
"This contract," Brown stated, his voice carrying the weight of an unbreakable law, "is the original deed. It proves beyond any shadow of a doubt that this land belongs to Mr. Bimbon Ogisan. You and your 'associates' have zero legal grounds to step foot in this alley, let alone seize it."
The slender man adjusted his collar, stepping back toward his bulky companion. He glared at the document, then at Brown, his expression twisting into a mask of pure malice.
"This 'legal' protection only lasts as long as the paper exists," the man hissed, a dark smile spreading across his face. "You won this round, Brown... but don't get comfortable. The Black House doesn't forget."
*BOOM!*
A sudden explosion of dust and smoke blinded the alley. When it cleared, the two men were gone, leaving only the lingering scent of cheap tobacco and the echo of a threat.
Sushi let out a long breath, his legs finally giving out as he sat back down. "And that," he muttered to the stunned old man, "is how you save a legacy with a cup of tea and a middle finger."
