Chapter Fourteen: How The Bad Guys Are Made

"Ding!"

The elevator finally reached the top floor.

Mond's nerves were stretched to their breaking point as the bell rang. If he had any say in the matter, he'd rather climb out from here and use the stairs to descend—no matter how many floors it took.

"Well, can I go now?" Mond asked cautiously, his voice tinged with desperation.

Ethan glanced at the game panel in front of him and replied nonchalantly, "Nope."

Mond's heart sank like a stone, his fists clenching instinctively. But the memory of Ethan surviving a barrage of bullets flashed through his mind, and he wisely relaxed his grip. Instead, he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. "What do you want from me? Just tell me, and I'll cooperate."

"Good! I like people who are cooperative."

Ethan handed Mond the silver box.

Mond blinked in confusion. "What?"

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "Take it. Now pay me."

"Uh... what?" Mond was completely lost in the labyrinth of Ethan's logic.

Ethan tapped the box impatiently. "I said pay me. What, you want it for free?"

Mond stared at him in disbelief but quickly fumbled through his pockets and handed back the coin Ethan had given him earlier.

Ethan picked up the coin and frowned. "What is this? Are you trying to insult me?"

You gave this to me! Mond screamed internally but managed to keep a straight face. He emptied his pockets, producing a crumpled wad of cash, which Ethan accepted with a satisfied nod.

"Remember, this is a fair and just transaction," Ethan said, wagging a finger at Mond.

Fair? Just? Mond wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. He gave up trying to understand Ethan's erratic behavior and just hoped this bizarre nightmare would end soon.

After a couple of such "transactions," Ethan eagerly returned his attention to the game panel.

[Target meets the conditions]

A triumphant grin spread across his face. It had worked!

Ethan had finally figured out the system's criteria. It wasn't about how inherently evil someone was but about the sins they had accumulated through criminal activities. Low-ranking gangsters like Mond lacked the extensive rap sheets of their higher-ups.

But Ethan had found a solution: make them rack up sins.

The silver box, filled with illegal substances, was a perfect tool. By repeatedly buying and selling its contents with Mond, Ethan had artificially inflated Mond's criminal record. In just a few minutes, Mond had gone from a small-time thug to a full-fledged villain recognized by the system.

Satisfied with his handiwork, Ethan turned and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

[Unlock condition: Kill fifteen sinful villains (2/15)]

At one in the morning, Ethan strolled back into Sister Margaret's Bar, his clothes freshly changed.

Despite the late hour, the bar was alive with energy. Inside, the sounds of shouting and cheering filled the air as two burly men fought in the center of a jeering crowd. Ethan watched as one man went down after a series of punishing blows.

From the crowd emerged Weasel, the bar's owner. He crouched beside the unconscious fighter and checked his pulse.

"He's still alive!" Weasel announced.

The crowd groaned in disappointment, their frustration palpable.

Unbothered by the reaction, Weasel directed a few patrons to drag the unconscious man away before returning to the bar, where he resumed wiping glasses.

Ethan walked over and placed the silver box on the counter. He slid a sleek black card across to Weasel.

Weasel raised an eyebrow. "Job done?"

Ethan nodded, pulling out the phone he had taken from one of the gangsters. "Got photo evidence. Need verification?"

"Always. Once it checks out, the employer's deposit is yours—minus my handling fee, of course," Weasel replied, pocketing the card. "As for the balance, you got a bank account for me to wire it to?"

"Can I get cash?" Ethan asked.

Weasel frowned but shrugged. "Sure, but it'll cost you extra."

Ethan nodded, unconcerned. "By the way, know any places I can rent? Preferably ones that don't require, uh, paperwork."

Weasel squinted at him. "No ID? You running low on luck, like Wade?"

"Something like that." Ethan shrugged, spinning the excuse as casually as he could.

Weasel didn't push further. "I might have a safe house you can use. Needs some cleaning, but it's secure. I'll deduct the rent from your payout."

Ethan grinned. "Perfect. To show my appreciation, let me buy you a drink."

Weasel chuckled dryly. "With what money? You're already running up a tab, and it's not small."

Ethan laughed and slapped a wad of cash on the counter, followed by two gold teeth.

Weasel gave the bloody gold teeth a long, skeptical look before shrugging. He didn't bother asking where they came from. "And the box? What's the story there?"

Ethan leaned forward, his eyes glinting mischievously. "This? It's a villain training tool."

Weasel blinked. "A what now?"

"A villain training tool," Ethan repeated, his tone dripping with mock sincerity. "With this, anyone can sin infinitely and become a Grade-A criminal in minutes. It's revolutionary!"

He pitched the box like a sleazy salesman, his words overflowing with exaggerated enthusiasm.

Weasel stared at him, unimpressed. "Hard pass."

"Suit yourself," Ethan said, shrugging.

For a moment, Weasel wondered if he'd just dodged a bullet—figuratively and literally. As he turned back to wiping glasses, Ethan gave the silver box a fond pat.

Another day, another villain made.