"Putato, how have you been lately?"
Parui's agitated voice crackled through the line. The second he spoke, Putato knew the man had something on his mind, despite the polite, indirect tone.
"Looking for a new job."
"Is that so? I'm bringing a refrigerated truck to Backstreet 23, the spot where you used to sell fresh meat. Did you really receive some kind of prescript, kid?"
"Ah, you were doing so well, only to lose your place over some nonsense like that."
After a few more words, Putato hung up. The guy clearly still had lingering thoughts about him. However, he had no time for that; he had to meet Smiling Faces head-on.
...
The restaurant was bustling.
To Putato's surprise, Smiling Faces had chosen a public eatery as their meeting place, rather than the gloomy factory or abandoned site he had envisioned.
Inside, three Smiling Faces members sat draped in crimson robes. The fabric swallowed their forms, making it impossible to see any defining features. Even their faces were hidden behind smiling iron masks.
The moment Putato entered, their collective gaze locked onto him. Though he couldn't see their eyes, he felt a heavy, suffocating pressure.
"Oh, so this is the esteemed Putato, recommended by our respected Chef?!"
Wang, a man of large stature, casually exhaled a puff of smoke from a long pipe and leaned back in his chair. Mi, slender and tall with legs crossed, seemed dissatisfied with the meal.
"I don't get it. Fresh meat is best eaten raw. That's when it's plumpest. Boiling it in a pot is just overcomplicating things."
"Anyway, Putato, you should eat. we've already finished, but we saved some for you."
The last member, Jin, glanced at Putato without saying a word.
These people weren't friendly, but Putato was mentally prepared. He pulled out a chair and sat down with a professional smile. He had already set a prescript for himself to ensure he joined Smiling Faces smoothly. This talent was a true panacea.
"I'm sure Yixin told you: I want in on Smiling Faces."
"Whoa, whoa, that wasn't the deal."
Jin draped an arm over his chair, eyeing Putato with clear disdain for his fair, youthful skin.
"Chef said we're just supplying a box of meat and teaching you knife skills. That's a far cry from joining the crew."
"Besides, what's your deal with the Chef? Are you a kitchen hand? Or just doing chores in the bedroom?"
"Jin! Watch your mouth!" Wang barked. "Putato is here to learn. It's an honor that the Chef took an interest in his skills."
"Putato, don't be shy. I'll take you to get the goods later. For now, eat up, or you won't have the strength for the road."
Good, good, Putato thought. They're asserting dominance. They won't be easy to handle.
BANG!
With one hand, Putato flipped the plate of unknown meat onto the table. Instantly, the three Smiling Faces gripped their long-handled pipes. Both ends of the pipes glowed with an unusual metallic sheen. One forceful swing would shatter a skull.
"Putato, not to your taste? This is from the chefs of Backstreet 23, guaranteed to suit your palate."
Wang tried to mediate, but Mi stood up abruptly.
"You brat! We're giving the Chef face here. You'd better shut up, follow orders, and finish this job. Don't waste our time."
Putato didn't panic. He even fanned himself casually.
"You expect me to eat this trash? You small-timers don't understand the first thing about cooking. I'm too lazy to even explain it to you."
"Oh? Is Your Excellency one of the Eight Chefs then? If so, we've certainly failed in our hospitality."
If he were a Star of the City, they would be respectful, but Smiling Faces wouldn't be intimidated by a mere subordinate. In The City, knowing your place was a vital skill. Wang watched through his mask, waiting to see what trouble Putato intended to stir up.
Even with the Zwei Association nearby, Smiling Faces wouldn't hesitate to cause a scene and walk away.
Putato grabbed a piece of meat, sneered, and tossed it into the air. Honesuki flashed out of its sheath.
His mastery of blades wasn't just for show. Performing tricks was effortless, especially with the specialized meat-cutting Honesuki in hand.
SWISH!
The entire block of meat was shredded into long, thin slices, connected perfectly from end to end. The moment it hit the pot, it churned on the surface like a layer of fine threads.
"I hope you at least have this level of knife skill. If not, the deal is off. Yixin doesn't need inferior products, and neither do I."
A mixed Syndicate cares about reputation, and this display earned their respect. Wang signaled his companions to lower their weapons. The tension faded.
"Remarkable! You'll likely become a Chef very soon. We'd be happy to offer our techniques for your reference."
"But is joining Smiling Faces serious? Won't it conflict with your other work?"
"My goal is to be a Chef. Everything else is secondary. When I make it, I'll make you my permanent suppliers."
"Haha! What I mean is, won't the Chef be angry? A Syndicate isn't a game. Once you're in, you follow orders."
Wang didn't cave easily. He fished a long strip of meat from the pot and ate it, causing Jin to sit up straight.
"Wang! Don't eat it all yourself!!"
Hearing their hesitation, Putato called Yixin immediately. The sound of sizzling oil came through the speaker. Putato was about to show them what it meant to borrow power.
"Yixin, I'm joining Smiling Faces to refine my craft. What do you think?"
"I support you! Go for it!"
Putato hung up before Yixin could say another word.
"Well? Any more concerns?"
This time, all three stood up respectfully. They had thought he was just an assistant, but this proved he had a direct line to a high-ranking chef. Their attitude softened instantly.
"Oh, Putato, how could we have concerns? Smiling Faces welcomes you."
Amid Wang's hearty laughter, Putato finally got the notification he wanted.
[Congratulations on your appointment to Smiling Faces]
[Acquired Work Talent: Mask]
[Description: The mask defines one's position. The self is also a part of the self.]
[Effect 1: You can exhale smoke at any time to form a smoke mask.]
[Effect 2: While wearing the smoke mask, your body dissipates smoke that blocks detection. The rate depends on your physical activity.]
[Effect 3: Inhaling smoke briefly enhances your body. Other creatures, however, will suffer nerve paralysis.]
It was essentially a humanoid smoke bomb, but it was exactly what Putato needed to move through the Syndicate undetected.
The Death Tattoo ability was far too conspicuous, now inseparable from Grey Howl.
His identity as a Vanda Fixer followed the path of a Weapon Master. This specific skill set served as the perfect cover to distinguish him from Putato.
"So, what is our next move?"
"Heh, we keep gathering supplies, of course! I remember our last trip to the hospital. This time, we pay a visit to a local Syndicate."
"Raiding Syndicates again? Doesn't that count as attacking our own kind?"
Putato took advantage of Smiling Faces being busy with their maps to change his outfit. His old clothes were shredded, little more than rags. He clearly needed a tailor for some custom gear.
Clothes made from specialized materials were more than just durable; they offered powerful combat enhancements. The Carnival he had encountered before, for instance, was a group of elite tailors.
"Colleagues need to socialize. Besides, there aren't many ingredients in The Backstreets that can satisfy a Chef. We can't just hand over Rats or common residents."
Wang maintained his jolly, grinning facade, and Mi quickly agreed.
"Exactly. Low-grade meat doesn't fetch a price. Our target at the hospital was those VIP customers."
"You get it. Those wealthy bastards love their maintenance packages. They obsess over their health, which means their meat quality is top-tier."
Jin took a long drag from a pipe shaped like a cigarette, then stepped out. A cash-in-transit van was idling outside.
The driver wore a Smiling Faces mask, waving them inside with a warm gesture.
"This rig is built like a fortress. Custom-made. Drive it as hard as you want; she won't break."
Putato watched Wang slide the compartment door open. Inside, rows of plush cushions lined the walls—a truly premium setup.
The moment he sat down, Putato fired a message to Red Hat of the neighborhood watch. This time, there shouldn't be any complications.
The reply came instantly, confirming they were gathering their people.
As Putato stashed his communicator, he realized the interior was already thick with swirling smoke. The scent was sharp and pungent, forcing a few coughs out of him.
"Putato, do you smoke? Enkephalins aren't addictive, you know."
"What is the point? Is there something special about this smoke?"
"No, nothing at all. Smoke isn't our exclusive privilege. These pipes are custom Workshop jobs, but they aren't rare."
"It's just that people without the right adaptive modifications and training usually can't handle it. I forgot you were the new guy. My apologies."
This man wasn't nearly as friendly as his mask suggested. He was a master at subtle psychological games. The armored van had no windows to vent the fumes.
Wang was clearly trying to regain the upper hand from earlier, but Putato wasn't about to fold.
At Smiling Faces, he couldn't use the same loyalty tactics he had used with Stray Dogs. Now that he had Yixin as a backer, the more arrogant he acted, the more they would fall in line.
Besides, Putato's current strength was leagues beyond his old self. He didn't need to play humble.
"Don't worry about it. I'll get you a meeting with a Workshop later. You are my little comrade now, after all. What do you say?"
"No need."
Putato suppressed his irritation, took a massive breath, and exhaled. Immediately, a thick cloud of white smoke billowed out, settling over his face in a perfect, frozen smile.
The irritating haze suddenly felt comfortable. Putato could even manipulate the inhaled smoke, gathering it within specific parts of his body.
However, the smoke within him vanished within seconds, requiring a fresh intake.
"What is this?!"
The three Smiling Faces members stared in shock as Putato became shrouded in mist. The smoke surged, filling more than half the van and obscuring their vision.
Years of wearing masks meant they rarely showed emotion, but now their eyes were wide with disbelief.
Wang even leaned in to take a sniff, confirming it was high-concentration smoke. Only then did he sink back into his cushion.
"Haha, Putato really does come prepared for everything. It seems my hospitality was lacking."
Mi and Jin looked at him with newfound respect. A Workshop weapon capable of venting that much smoke was worth a fortune. This guy was clearly willing to pay a high price to master his craft.
"Which Workshop forged that set? Only a few are famous for smoke-tech, but I've never heard of yours."
Suddenly, the van jolted to a stop.
BANG! BANG!
Heavy impacts echoed from outside.
The trio grabbed their pipes. Wang stood up and threw the door open.
"Oh, Putato, you're going to love your first hunt with us."
Putato stepped out to find residents on both sides pelting the van with stones. A few were even leveling crude crossbows at them.
He quickly took cover behind the van door, the lingering white smoke acting as his perfect screen.
Peering toward the front, Putato saw a three-row barricade built from scaffolding and rotting wood. These neighborhood watch members were cleverer than they looked.
BOOM!
Wang easily kicked through the reinforced steel door. If these thugs made it inside the building, the body count would be catastrophic.
Putato drew Honesuki, smoke coiling around his arm. In three swift strikes, he hacked the barricade into splinters.
"Wang, don't waste time on this trash. We have actual business to attend to."
"It seems Putato is impatient. But no."
Wang's voice turned cold, the laughter gone. He kicked the tattered door open.
He leaned against the frame and started his pipe. Mi and Jin sprinted up the stairs, followed immediately by a chorus of screams.
"You've joined the pipe-gang now. Even if you're a talent recommended by the Chef, you follow my lead. Do you understand?"
"In a Syndicate, you must know your place. If you can't even do that, you'll never find the right angle to cut meat. You'll just end up losing your own fingers."
No one could see Putato's face through the smoke, but once he gave a sharp nod, Wang relaxed his grip on his pipe.
"Haha, Putato, don't sweat it. We're just setting an example, see?"
Putato looked where Wang was pointing. On the third floor, a man in a red hat was barked orders while aiming a crossbow.
Even with the masks and hats meant to prevent future revenge, Putato recognized him as his contact.
"What a nuisance. I don't care about anything but cooking, but since you insist, I'll deal with him."
He could sense Wang's lingering dissatisfaction. He needed to play the role of the subordinate for now.
WHOOSH!
Putato bypassed the stairs. With a powerful leap, he scaled the balcony to the third floor, catching the watch entirely by surprise.
He reached out to seize Red Hat.
"Smiling Faces trash! I've been waiting for you!"
THUMP!
Red Hat suddenly dove to the right. The window behind him exploded as an Iron Thorn Ball shot out from the room, hurtling straight for Putato.
The trap was perfect, catching Putato off guard. Even Wang below felt a surge of worry—if this kid died, explaining it to the Chef would be a nightmare.
Damn it, you bastards still have tricks!
[Safely dodged the Iron Thorn Ball.]
The moment the command was issued, Putato let go of the balcony and fell backward.
In that split second, an arrow fired from the opposite building grazed his cheek and struck the Iron Thorn Ball, knocking it off its trajectory. A sudden gust of wind kicked up, and sheets of plastic wrap sequentially snared the ball from the side.
By the time it brushed Putato, it only scorched his face with minor debris. The ball itself went flying wide.
Grabbing the edge again, Putato vaulted up and hurled a flying dagger at Red Hat, who was scrambling down the hall. The blade buried itself in the back of the man's left hand, sending him into a fit of agony.
Putato turned and dropped back down to the street, marveling at how incredible The Index's talent felt in action.
"Oh, these rats are truly venomous. Putato, are you hurt?"
"Hmph. That guy is on the floor. Get moving already."
"Of course, of course."
Back in the van, the vehicle lurched over the ruins of the barricade. Putato pulled a cloth from his collar and wiped Honesuki clean.
His communicator pinged. Mi couldn't help but ask.
"Putato, are you loaded? You haven't turned off your smoke once. That is some serious luxury."
Mi's voice was thick with envy. He sat down next to Putato and took a deep breath of the lingering mist.
"I have no interest in money."
Putato checked the message and immediately went stiff. It was a distress signal from Parui.
[Putato, please, save my sister!]