Chapter 6: Working

"Just got up!"

André responded casually as he quickly walked towards the door.

But just as he was about to open it, André had a sudden thought. He lifted his shirt and bit his finger, drawing some intricate blood marks on his chest and abdomen.

These were simple talismans, primarily used for calming the mind.

Although André believed he had managed his inner demons well enough to avoid any danger unless there was a significant emotional upheaval, the incident on the bus yesterday still made him uneasy.

If he had actually pounced on that woman, it would have been utterly embarrassing.

After completing the talismans, André recalled the image of the call girl from yesterday to confirm their effectiveness before opening the door.

"Rare to see, André, you're up later than me today. What on earth were you doing last night? Found yourself a girl, huh?" William began teasing André as soon as he saw him.

But then William paused, looking at André with a strange expression. "Weird, it feels like you've changed overnight."

André maintained a composed interior and naturally displayed a puzzled expression on his face, glancing at the small mirror hanging by the door. "Really? I don't see any difference."

William held his chin thoughtfully. "You do seem different, more cheerful and sunny than before. Damn, you were already handsome enough."

In William's memory, André always had a gloomy demeanor. Besides William, no one else in the neighborhood or at school wanted to befriend him—except for the girls.

Some girls at school were particularly drawn to his melancholic vibe, so much so that he received over three love letters a month, making William envious to the point of frustration.

"Maybe I had an epiphany last night? You're right, William, people can't stay stuck in the past. What happened has happened, and there's no going back."

André smiled self-deprecatingly and walked out the door. "Come on! Aren't you in a hurry to get to work? Don't want to get scolded by the supervisor, do you?"

William seemed to want to say more but ultimately shrugged and walked out of the dim, cluttered apartment with André.

Although puzzled by André's sudden change, William was pleased to see it. Nobody wanted their friend to be perpetually gloomy.

※※※※

André and William worked at a Chinese restaurant named Cai's, located just a block away. Thanks to their honest and reliable appearances, diligent work ethic, and fluent Chinese, they easily secured jobs there as weekend waiters.

They both had work permits issued by their school. Although their wages were slightly higher than average, they were much more reliable and safer than illegal immigrants.

The key was their shared Asian heritage—though William looked like a typical African American, he was actually of mixed African and Asian descent. So when Mr. Cai was hiring, he picked them at a glance.

After breakfast, André and William headed to work. Initially, André found it challenging and clumsy. Having grown up pampered and never done such work in his life, it was only natural for him to struggle at first.

However, André was a quick learner. Relying on the memories of the original owner and observing his colleagues, he quickly adapted to the job within fifteen minutes.

"This way, please. Table 13 by the window offers the best view—"

"Would you like something to drink?"

"Miss, here's your bill."

"Here's your credit card. Thank you for coming."

"Your Golden Shrimp Dumplings are here."

"Here's the Abalone Trio you ordered."

It was mostly routine phrases, delivered with enthusiasm, courtesy, and a bright smile.

Thanks to the restaurant's excellent cuisine, business was booming. From 11 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., the place was packed. Especially around noon, a long line of customers would form outside. Thankfully, the restaurant closed at 2:30 p.m. for a break; otherwise, they'd be busy all day.

While André was resting in a corner of the restaurant, William approached him, fuming.

"Shit! Those Southerners are a real pain, a bunch of racist pigs. This is discrimination, pure and simple! I swear, once I get that car, I'm done being a waiter."

André gave him a sympathetic look. He had noticed William getting into an argument at table 37 earlier, being reprimanded by the manager afterward.

From what André knew, it wasn't entirely the customers' fault. William had spilled food on them, and both parties had bad tempers.

Now William looked enviously at André's bulging pockets.

"How much did you make today, André? I saw those tips were all five gold shields each."

Their colleagues also glanced at André with mixed expressions.

André smiled politely. "About seventy gold shields, I haven't counted exactly."

In reality, it was one hundred and twenty gold shields. Some customers had been especially generous, giving him over ten gold shields in tips.

The "Immortal King of Purple Virtuality" rarely lied, but human hearts are complex. If a few words could avoid unnecessary trouble, he was willing to do so.

Still, André felt a bit uneasy about being tipped, a form of patronage.

But American culture and laws were like that. In this waiter-like job, they didn't rely on wages.

In Georgia, the minimum wage for employees without tips was 10 gold shields per hour, but for tipped employees, it was only 2 gold shields.

At Cai's, thanks to the restaurant's popularity, waiters typically earned more. Their base hourly wage was a mere 2.5 gold shields, but with tips, they could make 60 to 80 gold shields a day.

The generous tips were why André gave up staying home to recover and came to work with William.

Unfortunately, since they were students, they could only work on weekends. They had been looking forward to this day for five days.

The original owner of André's body was saving money to buy a "Vitality Pill" from the black market to break through his martial arts bottleneck. William wanted to buy a pickup truck he'd been eyeing for a while.

André also valued this job highly, as it was likely his only source of income besides scholarships and government subsidies.

If possible, he would have preferred to stay home today to heal his soul, understand his physical condition thoroughly, and organize the original owner's memories. But he couldn't afford to skip work.

Cai's was one of the busiest restaurants on Market Street.

In America, the busier the restaurant, the more tips waiters received. Jobs like this were highly coveted, always one position for one person. Even if the boss didn't pay any wages, many people would still flock to it. If André didn't come today, the boss might find someone to replace him tomorrow.