Chapter 129 (Fixed)
Ray let out one last groan before dragging his feet toward the cluster of wooden benches near the edge of the park. His eyes scanned the grim scene, sifting through the scattered, half-conscious figures until his gaze locked onto a target.
Sitting alone on a broken bench was a heavily hunched-over man, clutching a half-empty bottle of cheap beer like it was his last lifeline. The guy looked completely wrecked—tattered jacket, hollow eyes staring into nowhere, and reeking of stale alcohol. Ray focused his vision for a split second, and as the system’s target lock engaged, a brief summary of the man’s identity flashed in Ray’s mind.
Without wasting a beat, Ray activated Solo Alter. He didn’t hesitate, mentally inputting the core command into the feature, [The ultimate form of self-respect is coming clean and exposing your nastiest, rotting secrets to a complete stranger.]
Ray took a deep breath, adjusted his black mask, and walked straight toward the hunched-over drunk, preparing himself for seven straight minutes of pure, unadulterated chaos.
Ray took a slow step forward. Over on his vision, the Solo Alter timer was ticking away—currently sitting at 00:09:50. He had roughly ten minutes to pull this off, but as he closed the distance, a foul wave of stench hit his nose like a freight train. It was a vile cocktail of stale beer, unwashed body odor, and vomit that almost made him gag right through his mask.
Jesus Christ, Ray thought, fighting the urge to turn around and throw up his lunch. But seeing Milady watching from a distance with her arms crossed, he swallowed his disgust, forced his feet forward, and dropped onto the far edge of the bench.
"Yo," Ray started, keeping his voice casual. "What are you even doing out here, man?"
That was literally all he said. Just a basic-ass greeting. But to a guy whose brain was getting rewired by Solo Alter, it hit totally different.
The hunched-over man snapped his head around. His bloodshot eyes bulged out, and his knuckles turned white around the beer bottle. "What’s it to you, huh?!" the old man barked, his voice raspy and slurred. "You coming over here to pity me? Look at me! You think I’m some homeless bum begging for scraps?! I got pride, kid! I got dignity! I don’t need your damn pity!" He paused, took a swig of his warm beer, and added without missing a beat, "Though... if you got free food or a twenty-dollar bill on you, I ain’t saying no. A free handout is a free handout."
Ray blinked, shaking his head in absolute disbelief. This dude’s logic is completely fried. But then Ray realized—the guy’s ego was wide open. The mission objective was to twist his common sense about self-respect, and the rewrite Ray typed earlier was already seeping into the old man’s twisted psyche.
"Right..." Ray drawled, leaning back. "So you got pride, but you’d take free cash? Man, do you even got any respect for yourself?"
Normally, a line like that would start a fistfight with a drunk junkie. But the Solo Alter command kicked into overdrive right at that moment. The old man’s expression shifted instantly. His aggressive glare melted into this creepy, prideful smirk, like he’d just been given permission to boast about his proudest achievements.
"Respect for myself?" the old man scoffed, puffing out his filthy chest. "Kid, you don’t know shit about real self-respect. Real self-respect ain’t about keeping up appearances for fake-ass society. Nah, true self-respect—the highest form of it—is having the balls to lay out your dirtiest, rottest secrets to a total stranger! Owning your trash, man!"
Ray raised an eyebrow under his mask. ’Holy shit, this shir actually fun and easy, not even hard.’
"Is that so?" Ray egged him on, secretly checking his timer.
"Hell yeah!" the old man shouted, looking genuinely empowered. "Take me, for example. I don’t hide who I am. You wanna know what turns me on? The smell of sweaty feet, bro! I’m talking crusty-ass, fresh-out-of-work-boots sweaty feet. Whenever I get a whiff, my brain just short-circuits!"
Ray burst out laughing. He couldn’t hold it in. "Nah, ain’t no way! You’re straight-up wilding, old man!"
"I’m dead serious!" the guy continued, totally unbothered by Ray laughing in his face. In fact, Ray’s laughter seemed to validate him even more. "That ain’t even the best part. You know those clothing donation bins around the city? Whenever the weather gets nice, I hit those up. I dig through the piles specifically looking for used women’s underwear. Once I find a pair, boom—free material for a hot session in an alleyway. That’s efficiency, kid! That’s knowing what I want!"
Ray was practically wheezing at this point, clutching his stomach as he laughed. "Bro, you’re a absolute menace! That’s disgusting as hell, man!"
It was pure absurdity. The old man kept spilling one degenerate secret after another with the utmost pride, spilling his weird fetishes and creepy habits like he was accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award. Ray kept laughing his head off, mostly because the shit was so utterly unhinged, but also to keep the conversation flowing without breaking the interaction requirement.
"You think that’s crazy?" the old man leaned in closer, his stale breath wafting over Ray. His eyes sparkled with a disturbing sense of enlightenment. "Listen to this one. Five years ago... my younger brother brought his new wife to my place. Fine-ass woman. But she caught me creeping on her while she was in the shower. She threatened to tell my brother, said she’d ruin my life and get me locked up."
The old man grinned, revealing a set of rotting yellow teeth.
"So, what did I do? I couldn’t let her ruin my dignity. I pushed her down the basement stairs, broke her neck, and dumped her body in a construction site down south. Cops thought it was a hit-and-run mugging gone wrong. Never got caught." He tapped his temple with a filthy fingernail. "I took care of the problem. Kept my self-respect intact."
Ray’s laughter died instantly.
The air around them suddenly felt freezing cold. Ray froze, his eyes locked on the old man’s smiling face. The guy wasn’t joking. There was no punchline coming. The raw, nonchalant way he said it made Ray’s skin crawl. This wasn’t just some harmless perverted junkie anymore—this dude was a literal unhinged murderer sitting right next to him.
Ray stayed completely silent, his heart hammering against his ribs. He didn’t say a word, terrified that one wrong move might set the old lunatic off before the system wrapped things up.
Glancing at the corner of his vision, Ray checked the timer.
Two minutes left, Ray thought, letting out a silent, shaky breath.
Luck was actually on his side today. The seven-minute requirement was already cleared while the old man was busy listing off his degenerate laundry list, and now all Ray had to do was sit tight, keep his mouth shut, and let the remaining two minutes of Solo Alter run out so he could bag his Hard mission rewards and get the hell away from this freak.
The moment the timer finally came, a quiet confirmation chimed in Ray’s head. Without missing a beat, Ray stood up, stepping away from the bench like it was on fire.
"Cool story, old head," Ray said, backing away slowly while waving a hand. "I gotta run. Stay... respectin’ yourself, I guess."
Ray turned on his heel to leave, but the old man’s face instantly twisted in anger. The system’s alter effect had worn off, plunging him right back into his erratic, withdrawal-crazed reality.
"Hey! Hold the hell up!" the old man shrieked, scrambling off the bench and stumbling after him. "Where’s my money, bitch?! You listened to all my shit, now pay up! Where’s my damn money?!"
"Hell nah!" Ray yelled back, not trying to deal with a literal murderer on a freak-out spree. He took off sprinting, weaving through the sketchy trees and broken sidewalks of the park.
Behind him, the junkie was yelling nonsense, his heavy, ragged breathing echoing in the dark. Ray kept his stride, pushing through a patch of overgrown bushes near the edge of the park—and there she was.
Milady was leaning casually against an old oak tree a little ways out from the park zone, arms crossed over her chest. The second she saw Ray sprinting for his life with a raving lunatic trailing behind, she lost it. She burst out laughing, a rare, genuine sound that was totally out of character for her usual icy self.
"Get your ass moving, Ray!" Milady wheezed through her laughter, pushing off the tree and taking off alongside him.
"Stop laughing and run, you psycho!" Ray hollered, though he couldn’t help a wild smirk from spreading under his mask.
For a brief, absurd moment, the two of them were flat-out sprinting down the empty suburban street together—laughing like a pair of totally unhinged, happy lovers escaping a crime scene, with a furious, shouting junkie shaking his fists in the distance.
They kept running for a couple more blocks until their lungs burned, finally ducking into a dimly lit alleyway to catch their breath. Ray leaned against the brick wall, panting heavily, while Milady leaned back, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.
Ray glanced back toward the main road. The old man was nowhere to be seen. They’d completely lost him.
Just as Ray let out a long, exhausted sigh, a crisp chime resonated in his mind, and two glowing notifications flashed across his vision:
[MISSION COMPLETED]
Reward: +500 Alter Points
Reward: +500 EXP