I kept walking without stopping, letting the distance between and those five geniuses stretch out naturally until even the idea of them started to feel far away.
The street ahead was quiet in a way that felt almost staged, like the world was performing peace just to see if I would relax and make a mistake.
I did not plan on giving it that satisfaction, but I could not deny that sothing about this mont felt... lighter.
Not emotionally. That would be asking too much.
Financially.
I adjusted the pouches in my hand and listened to the faint clink of coins shifting against each other. It was a clean sound. Simple. Honest in a way nothing else in this world seed to be.
So people probably found comfort in silence or music, but right now, this was better than both. This was the sound of profit. The sound of five bad decisions turning into one very good one.
"Okay," I muttered under my breath, more to organize my thoughts than anything else, "that should not have worked that easily."
I gave it a fair mont of consideration, because it was important to stay realistic about these things. Overconfidence was how people ended up dead in places like this.
"No, actually, it makes sense," I corrected myself after thinking it through. "They were not exactly operating at peak intelligence."
That explanation sat better with . It kept things grounded. It also prevented from developing the dangerous belief that I could just walk around convincing anyone of anything, which would definitely get killed sooner rather than later.
Still, even with that logic, there was sothing about the whole situation that did not sit perfectly right. It lingered at the edge of my thoughts like sothing unfinished, sothing I should probably look into but would rather ignore for now.
So I ignored it.
Because I had learned sothing important about survival. Not every problem needed to be solved imdiately. So problems could wait. So problems should wait. And so problems, if you were lucky, solved themselves or at least beca soone else’s problem.
I shifted my grip on the pouches again and kept moving, deciding that I needed a distraction before my thoughts drifted sowhere unhelpful again.
"Alright," I said quietly, "we are picking a topic."
This was not optional. This was necessary.
Because if I did not control my thoughts, they would control themselves, and based on recent evidence, they were not very good at that.
I thought for a mont, then nodded to myself once the answer ca.
"Food," I decided.
It was perfect. Safe. Universal. No unnecessary complications.
No one had ever made a bad decision because they were calmly thinking about food.
At least that was what I chose to believe.
I let that thought settle and continued walking, easing into it properly this ti.
"Alright," I continued, "if I had unlimited coins, what would I eat first?"
That question deserved respect. It was not sothing to rush.
This was long-term planning.
Important planning.
I frowned slightly as I thought it through.
"Biryani," I said after a mont.
It was a strong choice. Reliable. Comforting. High return on satisfaction.
But almost imdiately, I shook my head.
"No, that is too safe," I said. "You just scamd five people. This is not the ti to think small."
I needed ambition.
Vision.
Sothing that matched the scale of what I had just done.
"Fine," I said, committing to the idea, "a full multi-course al."
That sounded expensive, which ant it sounded correct.
I imagined it for a mont. Dish after dish, each one better than the last, everything perfectly made, perfectly tid. The kind of al you did not rush through because rushing would be disrespectful.
Then a thought interrupted it.
"...Do I even trust the food here?"
I slowed down slightly as that question settled in.
This world was not normal. That was sothing I needed to rember at all tis. There was a very real possibility that whatever ended up on my plate had been trying to kill soone not too long ago.
"I do not want my food to have a violent past," I muttered. "That feels like a bad dining experience."
I walked in silence for a few seconds, thinking about that more seriously than I probably should have. It was not just about taste anymore. It was about safety. About trust. About not being attacked by your own al halfway through eating it.
That felt like a reasonable standard.
As I continued forward, my thoughts drifted again, but this ti not in a completely random direction. Instead, they shifted toward sothing oddly specific.
Kim Dokja.
I stopped walking for a second.
"...Why am I thinking about Kim Dokja right now?" I asked quietly.
There was no clear answer, but the comparison made an uncomfortable amount of sense.
"That guy reads everything like it is part of a story and sohow survives," I muttered. "anwhile, I am out here scamming people and thinking about food like that is a strategy."
I resud walking, shaking my head slightly.
"Actually... no," I continued, "thinking about food might be a better strategy. At least food does not try to manipulate ."
I paused.
"...Usually."
That was not reassuring.
Still, the thought helped refocus.
"Alright," I said, "simple plan. Survive, get rich, eat properly."
That was clean. Clear. Easy to follow.
I liked it.
I nodded slightly as I walked, feeling a bit more grounded.
"Yes. That is enough. No need to complicate things."
I adjusted the pouches again, paying more attention this ti. The weight was not just satisfying anymore. It was real. Tangible. Proof that I was moving forward, even if the path I was taking was questionable at best.
"Still," I muttered, "this is not sustainable."
That thought ca naturally.
I could not just rely on running into five idiots every day. That was not a system. That was luck.
And luck had a very bad habit of running out at the worst possible ti.
"What I need," I continued slowly, thinking it through, "is a structure. Sothing repeatable."
I frowned slightly.
"What if I build sothing where people willingly give their coins because they think it benefits them?"
I paused.
Then I sighed.
"...That is just scamming again."
I considered it for a mont longer.
"...But organized."
That sounded better.
Much better.
I let the idea grow as I walked, exploring it properly this ti instead of dismissing it imdiately.
"No group," I said after a mont. "Groups co with expectations. Expectations co with problems."
I did not want problems.
I already had enough.
"So not a group," I continued, "just influence."
That felt like the right word.
Vague enough to be flexible. Strong enough to sound intentional.
I was just starting to feel satisfied with that thought when sothing interrupted it.
A small shift.
Subtle, but clear enough to notice.
I slowed down.
"...What was that?"
I looked down at the pouches in my hand, my grip tightening slightly without realizing it.
For a mont, everything looked normal.
Then I felt it again.
Not a movent.
Not exactly.
More like... a presence.
Faint. Indirect. Difficult to define.
Like the coins carried sothing more than just weight.
I stood there for a second, staring at them, trying to decide whether this was real or just my mind overreacting again.
"...No," I said quietly. "We are not doing this right now."
I opened one of the pouches anyway.
Just slightly.
Just enough to look inside.
Coins.
Normal coins.
No glow. No movent. No obvious sign that anything was wrong.
I stared at them longer than necessary, waiting for sothing to happen, as if they might react to being observed.
They did not.
Of course they did not.
That would have been too straightforward.
I closed the pouch slowly, still not entirely convinced.
"This is fine," I said. "Everything is completely fine. These are normal coins that I obtained through very normal and respectable ans."
That sounded convincing.
Almost.
I started walking again, but this ti my thoughts did not return to food as smoothly. They lingered sowhere in between, split between planning als and questioning whether I was carrying sothing I really should not be carrying.
That was not ideal.
I needed focus.
"Food," I said firmly. "We are sticking with food."
I forced my thoughts back into place.
"If I had my own place," I continued, returning to the earlier idea, "what would I call it?"
That question felt safer.
More controlled.
Nas mattered. A good na could attract people. A bad one could drive them away. And in this world, attracting the wrong kind of attention could be fatal.
I thought about it carefully, letting the idea develop instead of rushing to an answer.
"Sothing simple," I said slowly. "Sothing calm. Sothing that does not sound like a warning."
I considered a few options, none of them sticking properly.
Then one ca to mind.
"’Safe Bite,’" I said.
I paused.
"...That sounds like it is trying too hard."
I sighed quietly and kept walking, letting the idea remain unfinished.
It did not need to be perfect right now.
What mattered was that I kept moving, both physically and ntally, without getting stuck on sothing that could wait.
The unease from earlier had not disappeared. It stayed there, quiet and persistent, like sothing watching from just outside my awareness. I could feel it whenever I paid attention to the coins for too long, which was exactly why I chose not to.
"...I will check them later," I muttered.
Not here.
Not now.
Later, when I had ti and a safer environnt.
That was the kind of problem that belonged to the future.
And future could deal with it.
I exhaled slowly and adjusted my grip one last ti, letting the faint sound of coins ground again as I followed the pull of Juli’s insects deeper into the quiet street, balancing my thoughts between planning a future that involved good food and pretending that everything in my hand was completely normal.
Because for now, that was enough.
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