This novel is currently planned for revision, please refrain from subscribing to it for the time being.
Seeing John decisively refuse, a flash of resentment flickered in Asher's eyes, but it was quickly concealed. He hurriedly said, "Alright, alright, I'll add it right away!"
With that, he ran off.
Back at the restaurant, Jessica returned from the kitchen, her expression relatively relaxed.
"Done?" John asked.
Jessica nodded: "And you?"
"I finished two hours ago and even made a round to Karl's place."
Jessica was utterly shocked.
It was only their second day here, and John was already moving around as if he was at home!
Suddenly, she felt that her fate was starkly different from John's.
While Jessica was on edge at this instance, fearing offending a guest and thus losing her life, John seemed to be on a leisurely workday.
"Asher seems to have run into some trouble; he's already received four bad reviews today," Jessica said.
Thus, the review from this sixth customer was crucial, almost determining his fate!
"I gave him a bit of advice; whether he grasps it is up to him."
No sooner had John finished speaking than Asher appeared, pushing a cart, his forehead beaded with cold sweat, and his face still etched with anxiety.
"The... The dish is served," Asher stammered, trembling as he placed the dish on the table.
The guest at the table was a ghost with six eyes, no mouth on its face, but a huge gash across its chest revealing sharp fangs.
Observing the soup in the pot, the six-eyed ghost paused for a moment, then hoisted the pot to pour all its contents into its gaping maw.
The chilling sound of chewing followed, making Asher's legs tremble uncontrollably.
Soon after finishing, the six-eyed ghost looked up at Asher and asked in a calm tone, "What did you add to this soup?"
Seeing no sign of dissatisfaction or rage from the six-eyed ghost, Asher's eyes brightened, and he quickly responded, "Customer, it was red wine, added red wine!"
"The chef's idea, or yours?"
"It was me, I requested it to be added!" Asher hurriedly claimed the credit, fearing someone else would take it.
"Is that so?"
"Because of your red wine, you've ruined this entire pot of soup!"
The six eyes of the ghost, turned a fiery red, and a terrifying ghostly aura surged out from the gaping maw as if from an abyss.
The table violently trembled, cracked inch by inch, and shards scattered all around.
Asher was frozen in place.
"Smug vermin, you've ruined the soup and my mood! As a consequence, you shall become my slave!"
A large hand reached out, and Asher, without any chance to resist, was held in the palm of the six-eyed ghost.
Cackling, a puppet appeared, staring at the six-eyed ghost.
Asher, seeing a savior, desperately cried out, "Manager, save me, please save me!"
"You're the manager?" The six fiery red, terrifying eyes all focused on the puppet.
"Yes, my apologies for the foolish employee disrupting our esteemed guest's dining experience."
"As compensation, this vermin is yours. For your next visit to the restaurant, you will enjoy the privileges of a restaurant member!"
The puppet's words made Asher's heart plummet.
He glared at John, not far away, with bloodshot eyes and screamed hysterically, "John! You've set me up; I will never forgive you! Even if I become a ghost, I will come back for you!!"
"That's more like it."
Pleased with the puppet's arrangement, the six-eyed ghost nodded in satisfaction, then left the restaurant with Asher, who was shrieking miserably.
The other guests were silent as the grave, hastily making way.
Clearly, this six-eyed ghost was terrifying, feared by many ghosts.
After Asher was taken away, peace returned to the restaurant.
The puppet glanced at John and Jessica, muttering to itself as it left, "Another waiter gone, what a hassle."
"Both of you performed well today; here is your salary."
With a flick of its arm, several ghost Coins fell into John and Jessica's hands.
"Additionally, xjbxd44012 remains the best employee of the day; here's your extra reward!"
Saying so, a badge appeared in John's hand.
A skull-shaped badge.
"Wearing this badge grants you certain privileges, like access to the restaurant's second floor and the right to manage the kitchen..."
After finishing, the puppet turned and walked away.
John noticed that, holding the badge, he received envious looks from the other ghost employees.
"This is a good thing," John said with a smile as he put it away.
"John, about what Asher said..." Jessica looked at John, somewhat fearfully.
Could it be that John had intentionally set Asher up?
John didn't respond but walked over to the table, dipped his finger into the leftover soup, and activated the Eye of Truth.
After a moment, he picked up a napkin to wipe his finger and said, "I told him to add alcohol, and that was absolutely fine. But it had to be a high-proof alcohol, clearly not red wine."
Perhaps Asher took a shortcut, thinking red wine was good enough.
But it was this detail that cost him his life!
John had specified it had to be high-proof alcohol; not taking that seriously was Asher's own fault.
Hearing the explanation, Jessica felt very conflicted.
After all, they were all classmates, and watching someone being taken away by a ghost was undeniably heavy on the heart, no matter the circumstances.
"Instead of worrying about Asher, you might want to worry about whether you'll survive tomorrow. I'm going to buy something to eat. Are you coming or not?"
Seeing Jessica's distracted demeanor, John didn't say much more and turned to leave.
"Wait for me."
At the corridor, John ordered a sushi worth 30 ghost Coins and inserted a 100-value ghost Coin into the vending machine.
Soon, the vending machine shook.
The sushi came out.
As for the change, only 20 ghost Coins were returned.
As expected, 50 ghost Coins were embezzled again!
But this time, John didn't choose to silently accept his bad luck. With an expressionless face, he said, "The count is off."
"Quit your yapping, or you won't get to eat these sushi at all!"
The raspy voice of the vending machine ghost came through.
John remained silent but hung the badge on his chest.
"What, you think that thing can scare me?" the vending machine ghost scoffed derisively.
"I wasn't planning to scare you with this. This is more practical!"
John took out the Bloodied Bone Mallet and swung it at the vending machine's glass.
Instantly, the glass shattered!
Jessica covered her mouth in shock at the scene.
Was John really going to fight with the vending machine ghost?
"You're courting death!!"
The vending machine ghost flew into a rage, its ghostly face twisting grotesquely as rows of teeth sprouted from its gaping maw, looking ready to devour John at any second.
"Devil System: You've gained +3 rage points from the vending machine ghost and obtained the Murderer Butcher's Chainsaw!"
"A chainsaw? This thing is great!"
John felt a surge of excitement within him.
Meanwhile, as the vending machine ghost roared, preparing to attack, it was fiercely kicked back against the wall by John.
"Is this ghost power?"
The vending machine ghost was shocked, unable to believe that this vermin possessed ghost power.
What followed was even more unbelievable to it; John somehow produced a blood-crusted chainsaw.
After pulling the starter rope twice, the chainsaw buzzed to life, its sinister sound accompanied by the spread of a blood-curdling scent.
From Jessica's perspective, a flicker of fear arose as if by illusion, John appeared like a deranged murderer in a rainy night, clad in a raincoat and wielding a chainsaw.
The vending machine ghost, sensing something ominous about the chainsaw, suddenly realized it was a ghost Item!
Before it could react, John was already hacking away at it.
The chainsaw's blade tore through the vending machine's exterior, not sparking flames but spewing thick, black blood.
The vending machine was shocked and terrified, but above all, furious.
Was it really being oppressed by a vermin?
A pair of bloody, indistinct hands stretched out from behind the vending machine, grasping at John, intending to tear him apart.
But the next second, as if electrocuted, the bloody hands quickly retracted!
According to the rules of the Restaurant, as long as employees honestly work, fulfilling and meeting their tasks, ghosts are not allowed to harm them.
Moreover, aside from his uniform, John also wore the badge of the best employee on his chest!
The vending machine ghost couldn't harm John no matter what.
And John, like a dedicated lumberjack incarnate, furiously wielded the chainsaw in his hands.
With the roar of the chainsaw, pieces fell to the ground, and the floor was soon drenched in black blood.
The vending machine ghost finally realized the severity of John's actions and hurriedly spoke up, "Wait! Stop, I'll give you your change, every bit of it!"
Two ghost Coins popped out.
"What about from yesterday?"
"I'll return all of yesterday's too!"
"And what about my friend's?"
"Here, all of it back to you!"
The vending machine ghost completely capitulated.
Only then did John stop his actions, withdrawing the chainsaw as the flow of black blood abruptly ceased.
After picking up the ghost Coins and counting them, John looked up, his smile teasing, "The count's off, isn't it?"
"How could it be, I've calculated it very clearly."
John casually said, "I just gave you a 1000-value ghost Coin."
"Bullshit, you gave a 100!" the vending machine ghost retorted angrily.
"You remembered wrong."
John picked up the chainsaw again, pulling on the starter rope.
The sound of the chainsaw struck deep into the soul of the vending machine ghost.
Faced with John's shameless extortion, the vending machine ghost was furious to the extreme.
Biting back its anger, the vending machine ghost ultimately conceded, gritting its teeth, "I remembered wrong, a thousand, I'll give it to you!"
Quickly, several ghost Coins appeared in John's hand, exactly 970 ghost Coins, no more, no less.
"See, I'm a reasonable person. Anyone who doesn't know better would think I'm extorting you," John said with a laugh.
This novel is currently on hold, and much of the content is copied and pasted. Please do not subscribe to it.
==================
This novel is currently on hold, and much of the content is copied and pasted. Please do not subscribe to it.
========
This novel is currently on hold, and much of the content is copied and pasted. Please do not subscribe to it.
Nightfall draped itself over New York City, its skyline glinting with sporadic lights against the velvety canvas of the sky. Nestled in a contemporary Manhattan high-rise, Lennox's office remained bathed in artificial luminance.
Despite the vibrant cityscape beyond his window, Lennox was engrossed in an investigative report, dissecting it with meticulous care.
Emblazoned on the report's cover was a lone name: "Charles." A particular phrase within the document seized Lennox's full attention: "Demon Angel."
His phone shattered the contemplative silence, its ringtone specially reserved for private calls.
"What is it?" Lennox answered, icy in demeanor.
"Boss, Foreskin has arrived," his secretary informed him.
"Show him in."
Just as Lennox spoke, a knock echoed from the other side of the door.
"Come in," he beckoned, smoothing his attire and casting a glance toward the frosted glass door.
He pivoted to find his elegant secretary ushering in a man whose grin was unnerving, to say the least.
"You wanted to see me, boss?"
At Lennox's unspoken command, the secretary exited, leaving the two men alone.
"Sit. We need to talk about someone."
Curious yet cavalier, Foreskin settled onto the couch, crossing his legs casually.
"Who?"
"Charles."
Confusion flickered across Foreskin's features.
"Who?"
Lennox tossed a duplicate of the report onto the coffee table. "Demon Angel."
Foreskin scrutinized the document, his unnerving smile fading into a mask of impassivity as the room's lighting cast subtle shadows over his face.
"He's in New York?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Are you familiar with him?"
Foreskin hesitated for a long while, as if reluctant to delve into a discussion about Charles. He seemed uncomfortable.
"Boss, you know our family… has a sort of illness," Foreskin finally spoke.
"But I prefer to call it a gift."
"A thirst for slaughter courses through our veins, unchanged for generations."
"That's why my father became an arms dealer."
"Because arms come with blood and sin!"
"His 'gift' is the most exceptional I've ever seen. He's been in countless battlefields; many wars bear his hidden hand. The number of people he's killed—women and children included—runs in the tens of thousands."
"Since childhood, surpassing my father has been my ultimate life goal."
"Until…"
Foreskin's voice trailed off, sinking into a deeper gravity.
Sitting across from him, Lennox lifted his coffee cup replying, "So you're saying, your father—the arms king Dashiell—had his bloodlust 'cured' by Demon Angel?"
There was no decipherable emotion on Foreskin's impassive face. To him, it was a humiliation!
Killing was etched into their DNA; how could such an intrinsic trait be cured? Yet, it was true; his father Dashiell had indeed been healed of his murderous tendencies by Demon Angel.
And it was for that very reason he had killed his own father.
Foreskin couldn't bear the sight of his father, once a kingpin of arms and a shadowy orchestrator of wars, standing at the apex of the world's food chain, suddenly transformed into a benevolent old man who spent his days fishing and sipping tea.
He'd rather have no father at all than have one like that.
"How much do you know about the treatment he administered to your father?" Lennox inquired.
Foreskin paused to consider seriously.
"Their treatment was conducted in secrecy. And although they spent a long time together, the actual treatment lasted a very short time...
Probably within a day, maybe within half an hour. It was because of this brief duration that I felt as though my father had turned into a different person altogether."
Lennox squinted his eyes. "Have you ever had direct contact with him?"
A memory seemed to bubble up in Foreskin's mind, triggering a slight tremor in his fingers.
"Once."
"And what did it feel like?"
"Fear."
The admission was startling. Here was a man, a murderous fiend who considered himself at the apex of the food chain, a sadist of the highest order, acknowledging his own fear.
Intrigued, Lennox felt his interest in Charles intensifying. "Is he that cruel, to instill such fear in you?"
Foreskin's fists clenched tightly. After a long moment, he exhaled deeply.
"Boss, where is he?"
Clearly, he was reluctant to revisit his prior encounters with Charles.
And even that not-so-distant memory seemed strangely blurred, as if everything about Charles was dissolving away. The only thing that remained vivid was an indelible sense of dread.
"He's currently at a café in New York. You know, he's just a doctor—extraordinarily gifted in medicine, of course—but physically..."
Lennox's voice trailed off. He looked at the contemplative Foreskin and smiled. "Alright, prepare yourself well. I'm sure you know exactly how to handle this."
"I understand... I will personally cleanse my family's shame!" A chilling intent to kill flashed in Foreskin's eyes.
.....
Charles sat by the window of a cafe, holding a cup of latte in his hand, soaking in the bustling New York street scene through the glass while unidentified music played through his earphones.
After finishing his coffee, he prepared to head home. Before he could, however, a group of masked men abducted him and took him to an abandoned factory.
Foreskin was already there, waiting for him.
Trying to maintain a façade of calm, Foreskin locked eyes with Charles and asked, "Do you know who I am?"
Charles replied, "I don't. Let me guess...you're Dashiell's son?"
The middle-aged man nodded. "Correct. Since you've heard of me, you must understand what kind of person I am—"
Charles interrupted. "Actually, I don't. And if we're being honest, I'm skeptical you're Dashiell's biological offspring. Your peculiar name doesn't exactly ring of paternal affection."
Tension palpable, the henchmen exchanged nervous glances. They knew their boss well enough to understand how volatile he could be, especially when it came to his name. Charles was playing a dangerous game.
"Amused, are we?" Foreskin's voice dripped with barely concealed menace.
"I usually find myself quite entertaining. 'Handsome' doesn't fully cover it," Charles retorted, casually sitting down and crossing his legs.
One of the masked kidnappers drew a gun, pointing it at the back of Charles's head. A single nod from Foreskin, and his brain matter would splatter across the room.
"Your interference led me to kill my own father. You will answer for that!" Foreskin bellowed, his features twisted in loathing, as if his own patricide was Charles's fault.
"So, you can murder your dad, but I can't give him medical treatment? Is that your ethical stand?" Charles fired back, unfazed by the loaded gun behind him.
"You're quite the poster child, aren't you? Your father wasted his life on you. His parenting was an utter fiasco."
Foreskin's eyes narrowed, his voice a frigid whisper. "Had you understood that, you would've stayed away from him."
Charles mimed a gun with his hand, aiming it at Foreskin. "Do you know what's going through my mind?"
"I couldn't care less about the thoughts of a madman. But you'll soon know what's on my mind..." Foreskin sneered.
Charles cut him off, his face suddenly twisted with pent-up rage. "What I'm thinking is that, if I had a real gun, I could blow your brains out with one shot!"
Seeing Charles's raw emotion, Foreskin's anger mutated into a sick thrill. His dread of Charles seemed to vanish, supplanted by newfound confidence.
Flicking ash from his cigarette, Foreskin mocked, "Look at you, pathetic as a worm. You boast about being a top doctor, yet you can't even afford a gun."
"I—"
Bang!
Before Charles could finish, his eyes flashed a horrifying crimson, spinning like some manga character's Sharingan. Foreskin was paralyzed.
Incredibly, a gun materialized in Charles's hand. He pulled the trigger, turning Foreskin's head into a gruesome tableau of blood and brain matter.
Stunned silence engulfed the room.
"Thought he'd dodge that, did you?" Charles grinned, tucking the gun back into his coat while the room remained agog.
He knew his fate was sealed, that he'd likely never leave this room alive. But he'd determined to make his final move, to take matters into his own hands.
Using wily dialogue and calculated theatrics, he'd distracted Foreskin long enough to catch him off guard and kill him.
Suddenly, reality reasserted itself among the henchmen. Another gunshot echoed, and Charles's head exploded, his consciousness extinguished in an instant.
This novel is currently on hold, and much of the content is copied and pasted. Please do not subscribe to it.
Das könnte Ihnen auch gefallen
Kommentar absatzweise anzeigen
Die Absatzkommentarfunktion ist jetzt im Web! Bewegen Sie den Mauszeiger über einen beliebigen Absatz und klicken Sie auf das Symbol, um Ihren Kommentar hinzuzufügen.
Außerdem können Sie es jederzeit in den Einstellungen aus- und einschalten.
ICH HAB ES