Night was never truly quiet, but there was a particular kind of silence that occurred right before violence erupted—like a long intake of breath before a scream.
Before me, three Orcs from the Bone Breakers gang cracked their neck muscles. The sound of popping bones echoed like dry twigs being snapped. Their leader, a moss-green giant with one broken tusk and a skull tattoo on his forehead, raised a rusty iron pipe to shoulder height.
"You've got three seconds to hand over all your gold, Cardsmith," he growled. Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on the tip of my already filthy leather shoes. "One..."
I didn't move. My hand still held the Theatrical Tsunami card that trembled slightly between my index and middle fingers.
"Two..." The second Orc, wielding a spiked motorcycle chain, began spinning his weapon. The whooshing sound sliced through the humid night air.
Miri, hiding behind my legs, squeaked softly. "Boss, if you've got a genius plan, now would be the time. I'm too young to become Orc toothpicks."
"Cover your nose, Miri," I repeated, my voice calm—too calm. It was the calmness of someone too exhausted to be afraid, or perhaps the residual effect of the Viscount's arrogance beginning to fade into something more... dramatic.
"THREE! WASTE HIM!"
All three Orcs charged forward at once. The ground trembled beneath their heavy footfalls. The smell of sour sweat and murderous intent filled the narrow alley.
I flicked my wrist.
"Act One: Flood of Tears," I whispered.
The card in my hand shattered into dazzling blue light particles. But unlike ordinary water magic that roared like ocean waves, this magic emerged with the accompaniment of heart-wrenching violin strokes—the soundtrack of tragedy that came from nowhere.
[CARD ACTIVATED: Theatrical Tsunami]
[Concept: Flood + Melodrama]
[Effect: Unleashing a wave of physical & emotional pressure.]
From the dry ground, water didn't spurt. Water exploded.
But this wasn't ordinary water. The liquid was gray-blue, foaming, and smelled like salt and old sorrow. A wave three meters high rose before me, forming vague shapes of weeping faces, their mouths open in silent screams.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" the Orc leader shouted, trying to brake his momentum.
Too late.
The wave didn't just hit them with physical force. It hit them with narrative.
As the water slammed into their muscular bodies, the violin music reached an ear-splitting crescendo.
BLAAARRR!
All three Orcs were swept clean away. The iron pipe flew off. The spiked chain sank. Those green bodies tumbled in the swirling vortex of water spinning along the alley, dragging them away from me.
And the strangest part? They weren't roaring in anger.
"MOTHERRRRR!" the Orc leader wailed, tears suddenly streaming from his eyes, mixing with the magic water. "I PROMISED I'D BECOME A BAKER! WHY DID I BECOME A THUG?! WHY IS LIFE SO CRUEL?!"
The second Orc hugged his own knees while being swept by the current. "I'M JUST LONELY! I HIT PEOPLE BECAUSE I NEED PHYSICAL TOUCH!"
They were swept out of the alley, toward the district's main drainage, lamenting about life regrets, unrequited love, and shattered childhood dreams.
In ten seconds, the alley was quiet again. Only puddles of water remained, reflecting the moonlight, and the sound of sobbing growing fainter in the distance.
[COMBAT RESOLVED]
[Victory Style: Melodramatic Washout]
[Loot: 1x Rusty Pipe (Common), 3x Broken Egos.]
I lowered my hand. My breath came in gasps.
Miri released her tiny claws from her nose. She stared at the now clean and soaking wet alley with wide eyes.
"Boss..." she said quietly. "Was that an attack, or forced therapy?"
I wanted to answer with a sharp sarcastic comment. I wanted to say, "That's efficiency, Miri."
But then, the backflow came.
The concepts of 'Drama' and 'Emotional Flood' from the card seeped back into my nervous system. Viscount Vergil's cold arrogance vanished without a trace, replaced by something far wetter and mushier.
My lips trembled. My eyes felt hot.
I saw a puddle of water at my feet. There, floating, was a piece of used newspaper, wet and dirty.
"Oh, look..." my voice cracked, trembling violently. I fell to my knees on the wet stones. "Look at that poor newspaper, Miri. It once carried news. It once mattered. Now it's just wet trash in a dark alley. Just like me... just like all of us..."
Tears began trickling from my eyes. Not one or two drops. This was a waterfall.
"Boss?" Miri backed up a step, looking horrified. "Don't start. Please, don't start."
"We fight so hard," I lamented, looking up at the cloudy night sky. "We fight Princes. We deceive merchants. But for what? In the end, we'll all be swept into the sewers of time, forgotten like that Orc who wanted to be a baker! Oh, how tragic existence is!"
I hugged myself, sobbing with the exaggerated style of stage opera.
Miri sighed deeply. She walked closer, then with a quick and efficient motion, slapped my cheek with her wet tail.
SMACK!
"Snap out of it, Drama Queen!" she barked. "The penalty deadline is in 2 hours! If you want to cry, cry later after we pay the bill! Let's move!"
The slap stung. The physical pain helped dull the wave of artificial emotion a bit.
I wiped my cheek, drawing in a long sniffle. "You're right," I said, still hiccuping. "That hurt... but you're right. The reality of capitalism doesn't wait for tears."
I stood on shaky legs, wiping my face with my dirty shirt sleeve.
"Let's go home," I said hoarsely. "Before I start reciting poetry about that lonely streetlamp."
***
The journey home to The Glitch Shop was a struggle against the urge to cry over every inanimate object on the street. I almost stopped three times to mourn the fate of a stray cat (which actually looked quite happy eating a fish bone), but Miri kept dragging me along by biting the hem of my pants.
We arrived at the shop just as the city tower bell chimed eleven times. One hour before midnight. One hour before the Inspectorate penalty deadline ended.
I unlocked the door with trembling hands, and the familiar scent of old paper and ozone greeted me. It was the smell of home. The smell of protection.
"System," I commanded as soon as the door locked behind us. "Open financial administration menu."
A blue hologram appeared above the cash register. There, red numbers flashed like a dying heartbeat.
[OUTSTANDING PENALTY: 5,000 GOLD COINS]
[DEADLINE: 58 MINUTES]
[CONSEQUENCE OF DEFAULT: ASSET SEIZURE & IMPRISONMENT]
I reached into my dimensional pocket, pulling out the bags of coins from our 'hard work' tonight. Gold from Gareth. Gold from Barnaby. Gold from sabotaging the Prince.
I poured it all into the Mana Converter—a metal funnel beside the cash register that functioned as a magical ATM.
The coins clinked in.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
The sound continued for several minutes. It was the most beautiful music I'd heard all night, far better than that tragedy violin earlier.
The blue bar began filling.
1,000... 2,500... 4,000...
The number stopped at 5,080.
[PROCESSING PAYMENT...]
[PAYMENT ACCEPTED.]
[PENALTY CLEARED.]
[TRADE LICENSE: RESTORED.]
The red color on the screen changed to calming green. The seizure notice taped to the shop's front door burned magically, turning to ash that fell to the floor.
I slumped to the floor, leaning against the cash register. The 'Drama' backflow effect finally faded completely, leaving behind an incredible exhaustion. My bones felt like jelly.
"We made it," I whispered. "Miri, we made it. This shop is still ours."
Miri jumped into my lap, curling into a warm ball. "Hungry," she mumbled softly. "Boss promised good food if we survived."
"Tomorrow," I promised, stroking her coarse fur. "Tomorrow I'll buy you Wyvern Meat steak. The most expensive."
A moment of silence. Only the soft hum of the card server cooling machines in the back room. It felt peaceful.
But of course, at The Glitch Shop, peace was just a commercial break before the next disaster.
TING!
A new notification appeared. Not from the Inspectorate. Not from Node #7.
This was a Mailbox notification.
[YOU HAVE (1) NEW MESSAGE]
[SENDER: The United Merchants of District 9]
[SUBJECT: Notice of Dissatisfaction]
I frowned. I opened the message.
There was no long text. Just an image. A caricature of my face, with a large red X over it. Below it, rough, angry handwriting:
"You think you're smart, Glitcher? You humiliated Barnaby. You disrupted the market. You cost us money. Money can pay the law, but money can't buy safety from fire. Watch your electrical wiring."
I stared at the message. A threat. Not from street thugs, but from a merchant coalition. Hundreds of small guilds I'd ignored, underestimated, and manipulated prices on for my own profit all this time.
They'd united. And they were angry.
"Boss?" Miri raised her head, her ears twitching. "There's a weird smell."
I sniffed the air. Miri was right. The smell of ozone and old paper was now mixed with something else. A sharp smell. A smell that made the hair on my neck stand up.
The smell of kerosene.
"Miri, get away from the door!" I shouted, jumping to my feet.
CRASH!
The front window shattered into pieces. A glass bottle with a flaming wick sailed in, spinning through the air in terrifying slow motion.
A Molotov cocktail.
The bottle hit the wooden floor right in front of the Nature-type card rack (paper and dry plants). Fire burst instantly, orange and hungry, licking at the old wooden rack ravenously.
"FIRE!" Miri screamed, jumping onto a tall cabinet.
"Damn it!" I grabbed a blanket from my cot and tried to beat at the fire. "System! Activate automatic extinguisher!"
[ERROR: Fire Suppression System Subscription Expired.]
[Please Renew to Activate Water Sprinklers.]
"DELETE THAT DAMN SUBSCRIPTION FROM MY LIFE LIST LATER! ACTIVATE NOW!"
[Payment Required.]
The fire spread fast. Black smoke began filling the room. The heat licked at my face. I coughed, eyes stinging.
This wasn't just vandalism. This was a coordinated attack. That threat message wasn't a warning. It was a declaration of war.
"Miri! Emergency deck! Get the black box under the floor!" I ordered, throwing the burning blanket aside. I couldn't put this out manually. The fire was too fast, aided by chemical accelerant.
I ran toward the workbench, grabbing my Infinite Grimoire and the invaluable stack of Core Blueprints. Heat began melting the paint on the walls.
Outside, I heard laughter. Many people laughing. And the sound of footsteps moving away.
They didn't intend to rob. They intended to destroy.
I looked around my shop. The place I'd built everything from scratch. The place I'd saved every coin and every stingy dream.
And now, that place was being devoured by the consequences of my own arrogance.
"Boss! The box!" Miri threw the small black box toward me. I caught it mid-air.
Fire now blocked the front door. The back window had iron bars. The only way out was the narrow roof ventilation.
"Get to the roof, Miri! Quick!"
"What about the cards on the racks? Our stock?!" Miri shouted, her eyes reflecting the flames.
I looked at those racks. Thousands of cards. Thousands of hours of work. Thousands of potential gold coins. Frog King cards. Heavy Metal Golem cards (still had copies). Everything beginning to curl and blacken.
The 'Value Hunter' side of me screamed in pain. Those were assets! That was money!
But then I saw the main support beam beginning to crumble, eaten by fire. The roof would collapse in seconds.
"Leave it!" I shouted, my voice hoarse from smoke. "Life has no discount, Miri! Go!"
I grabbed Miri, jumped onto the workbench, then leaped to grasp the edge of the ceiling ventilation hole. I pulled my body up with the last of my strength, my muscles screaming in protest.
As I managed to pull Miri out onto the cold roof, a terrifying CRACK sounded from below.
The Glitch Shop's second floor collapsed onto the first. An explosion of fire burst out through the broken windows, illuminating the District 9 night sky with tragic orange.
We lay sprawled on the slanted roof, coughing, faces blackened with soot.
Down there, my home, my office, and 40% of my assets had just turned to ash.
I had paid the 5,000 gold penalty. I had won against the law. I had won against the Prince.
But I'd forgotten one basic rule of free market economics: Angry consumers are the most destructive force of nature.
Miri crawled toward me, licking my scratched cheek. She didn't ask about food anymore. She was trembling.
"Gone..." she whispered. "Everything's gone, Boss."
I sat up slowly, staring at the dancing flames mocking me from the ventilation hole. In my hand, I clutched the small black box tight—the only thing that survived besides the clothes on my back and the Grimoire in my brain.
The sadness from the earlier backflow was gone. What remained now was something far colder. Far harder.
I opened the system menu.
[TITLE UPDATE: The Prince's Nemesis]
[NEW TITLE ADDED: Enemy of the Guilds]
[CURRENT ASSETS: 80 Gold Coins (Pocket Change), 1 Box of Emergency Prototypes.]
I laughed. A dry laugh, without humor, without melody. A laugh that sounded like two grindstones scraping together.
"Not gone, Miri," I said quietly, my eyes reflecting the flames consuming my past. "We've just undergone forced asset streamlining."
I stood, my silhouette shadowed against the smoke-covered moon.
"They want war? They burned down my shop because they think I'm a crooked merchant?"
I clenched my fist until my knuckles turned white.
"Fine. Starting tomorrow, I stop being a merchant. Starting tomorrow... I become a natural disaster."