Chapter 23: Snap, Headshot, No Bargaining
Donape stood there, dazed, slowly pushing himself back upright.
The video of his fight with his old college classmate had certainly gone viral, but while plenty of people recognized his face online, practically no one knew where he actually lived.
Unbeknownst to him, the small crowd gathered at his doorstep had actually arrived because of Irene’s social media post.
However, only five people had bothered to show up in person even with Irene’s massive online reach.
The reason was simple: the idea of a VR device capable of seamlessly projecting a true virtual world into reality sounded like absolute nonsense. To the general public, supernatural abilities and superhuman feats were nothing more than fictional tropes meant to spice up a story.
As a result, despite Irene’s earnest promotion of Origins VR Cafe, the vast majority of her followers dismissed the shop’s claims as an elaborate gimmick.
And Donape was more than happy to exploit that skepticism to trash his own credibility.
"Look, guys, don’t believe everything you see on social media—that video was completely staged!" Donape declared, putting on his best innocent face. "Take a good look at me. Do I look like some martial arts master who can take down thugs? Of course not! I’m a total coward!"
He was leaning heavily into his old persona—the harmless, low-profile guy he was before his ill-fated merger with the God-Tier VR Cafe System.
Donape, however, had no intention of letting potential customers walk out the door. Instantly, he flipped into full salesman mode.
"Even if I don’t meet your expectations, there’s someone inside who can show you the exact martial arts you’re looking for. How about it? It’s only 80 BC to unlock The Path of Heavenly Martial Arts and 20 BC per hour of playtime. Dirt cheap, right?" Donape grinned, rubbing his palms together behind the counter.
"Hey, uncle. I’m not interested in martial arts movies or video games," the young man snorted. "I’m looking for real martial arts—like those legendary kung fu experts the young masters of prestigious families hire as bodyguards."
"Ey!" Donape chided, waving his hand dismissively. "My place provides state-of-the-art VR Capsules! These are cutting-edge platforms capable of seamlessly synchronizing a user’s neural network into an illusory world. Every single one of your five senses will be fully engaged, delivering a transcendent experience that directly stimulates your physical body! In simple words, it turns virtual reality into a true reality!"
Delivered with the shady enthusiasm of a street scammer, his grand explanation naturally failed to convince a single one of the five newcomers.
Finally, another young man stepped forward, putting an end to Donape’s stiff, dubious pitch.
"Alright, fair enough, man. Honestly, most of us just came here because of that post about your shop’s menu and rules," the youth chuckled. "Not because of your viral video. We just came to check it out of pure curiosity."
Donape’s face brightened slightly, though he quickly forced a flat, innocent expression.
"Oh, no worry! All of you are my customers. So, this is Origins VR Cafe. Basically, it’s just like any internet cafe you know—play games, grab food and drinks, hang out, you get the idea. Also, our rules listed on that screen are absolute. Especially ’You pay to play, otherwise get out.’ Hehe. So, how about it? Which one do you want to buy?"
All five of them tilted their heads up, their eyes scanning the sleek digital board hovering directly above the main counter.
After a tense silence, they looked back at one another, muttering in quiet disbelief. It matched the absurd menu from Irene’s social media post down to the exact digit.
"Should we start with the cheapest thing on the list?" one of them whispered.
"Yeah, let’s test the waters first," the others agreed, nodding along.
Although they were dressed in high-end brand-name clothes, they were ultimately still high schoolers relying on their parents’ dimes. In an inflated city where even a poor student needed 30 to 50 BC just to scrape by each day, these well-off youths certainly weren’t hurting for cash.
Still, spending money at Origins VR Cafe made them hesitate. Forking over 20 BC an hour just for playtime and 80 BC to unlock a game—in a shady little thirty-five square meters shop, no less—bordered on outright extortion.
They were curious enough to test the place out, but cautious enough to whisper among themselves and start with the absolute cheapest item on the menu first.
Stepping forward to the main counter, the five of them took seats on the barstools lined up along it, looking directly up at the menu screen.
"Alright, boss," one of them said, leaning against the sleek countertop with a smirk. "Care to explain what this ’Origins Fountain Water’ actually is?"
Donape naturally stepped up to explain the mortal drink.
Unfortunately, his description didn’t register with the five high school seniors at all.
There was only one thing all five of them could agree on: this was literally just plain water.
Plain water... for 15 BC.
That was insane!
However, now that they were already standing inside the shop under the shopkeeper’s expectant stare, their rich-kid pride kicked in. They didn’t want to look like broke beggars who couldn’t afford a drink. Exchanging subtle, panicked glances, they silently debated who was going to take the hit and buy the Origins Fountain Water.
Having finally reached a decision, one of the boys stepped up and said with forced confidence, "We’ll take one bottle of Origins Fountain Water."
Donape was caught off guard. "One?! Just one?! Ah... you guys want to try a sample first? Right, fair enough."
He reached beneath the counter shelf, grabbed a bottle of Origins Fountain Water, and placed it on the counter.
The five high schoolers exchanged uneasy glances once more, their doubts about the legitimacy of this ’magic shop’ reaching an absolute peak.
Swallowing hard, a girl in the group gathered her courage, picked up the bottle, and took a cautious, tiny sip. She didn’t even dare swallow a full gulp at first.
The instant the water touched her throat, a wave of profound refreshment washed over her, making her eyes widen as a surge of warm energy vibrated through her body. She froze in place, completely speechless and overwhelmed.
Because she didn’t react or say anything right away, her four friends naturally assumed the worst—that it really was just ordinary tap water.
"Ahem! Right, well... we think this is a fantastic beverage! Now, if you’ll excuse us!"
Before the girl could even explain what she felt, two of her friends grabbed her arms and hauled her toward the door. All five of them bolted out of the shop in a frantic blur, leaving Donape standing alone in complete utter bewilderment.
"What the hell?!" Donape blinked, staring at the empty doorway. "They walked in acting like high-rollers who could buy out the whole place, but got scared shitless over buying a single bottle of water? Is my pricing really that terrifying?"
Donape slowly turned around, looking up at the sleek digital screen mounted above his counter. After a moment of silence, he nodded to himself and uttered a profound truth:
"Yeah... no, it’s definitely exorbitant."
Although it was a shame he had lost those potential customers, Donape wasn’t overly pressed to pursue them—he had a system quest to complete, after all.
Besides, as if on cue, his regulars started trickling into the shop to fill up the empty seats.
Booting up Counter-Injustice, Donape bypassed the main match queue and loaded directly into the custom training range—a stark, white-and-orange arena populated by red bot targets.
He spawned a heavy revolver into his hand, raised the sight, and pulled the trigger on a bot twenty meters away.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The first bullet hit the chest. The second flew over the target’s head. The third hit the ceiling tiles.
"Ugh! I’m still terrible at this," Donape complained, staring at the bullet holes scattered everywhere except where his crosshair had been pointed.
For this quest, he couldn’t just tap and pray the way he did with assault rifles. The target range challenge specifically required proficiency with handguns and sniper rifles, meaning he had to get comfortable with both.
With handguns—especially high-caliber revolvers—landing rapid headshots wasn’t just about aim. Every shot kicked the barrel violently skyward, forcing him to fight the heavy vertical recoil, snap his crosshair back down to head-level, and completely freeze his footwork before pulling the trigger again.
Setting the bots to ’Random Movement,’ Donape took a deep breath.
Stop. Lock target. Snap down. Reset. Tap.
Sweat began to bead on his forehead—not just virtually, but physically inside the VR capsule. Every heavy gunshot sent a dull, tactile rumble through his shoulders. Seven misses. Twenty-eight misses. A hundred.
By the two-hundredth bot, however, his brain stopped manually calculating the recoil reset. His muscles took over and reacted on pure instinct.
Snap. Headshot. Snap. Headshot.
The next day, Donape spent another full day grinding his training with both weapon types, just as he had done before.
In the midst of his practice, a few new customers trickled in, drawn by Irene’s viral post.
While some arrived genuinely curious about the VR Capsules, many still dared to haggle over the prices. Unsurprisingly, every single one of them was turned away empty-handed. Donape refused to bend the shop’s absolute rules for anyone—even if Satan or the Devil himself came down to put a blade to his throat.
After all, his Tyrannical System was vastly more sadistic and terrifying. Why on earth should he be afraid of death?
If those demons ever crossed paths with his System, even they would end up begging for a quick, merciful death.