The restaurant was practically empty. The hostess was currently in the kitchen, and there was nobody to man the register. Practically dead but somehow swimming in cash; that was what money laundering fronts looked like.

I closed the System menu and rose out of my seat. There was only one other door besides the kitchen and front entrance, and it was hidden in a far-off corner and read “staff only.” I slowly approached it.

“You idiot!” came a shout from just beyond the door.

I began to walk on the balls of my feet until I was just at the entrance, and cracked it open to hear better.

“But boss, you said ten grand’s the limit!” another man whined. “That’s as far as I went!”

“Well what kind of nut job spends ten grand at once at a place like this?!”

“But what does that matter if it’s still below the…”

“Forget the limit, will ya?! That’s just there to catch idiots who think a dollar below it somehow looks clean. Those goons at the Department of Justice actually have brains, unlike you!”

“I-I’m real sorry, boss.”

“Good, so start fixing up those books. I’ve got a hot date to get to, and I expect you to be done by the time I get back in an hour.”

“Sure thing, boss!”

I let go of the door and dashed back to my seat, careful not to make any noise. Thankfully there was no need. Whoever was in the back didn’t come through the door I was listening through, probably exiting through the back of the restaurant.

So that confirmed it, this really was a money laundering front for the mob.

I didn’t immediately get back up. As much as I would’ve loved to strut into the back and cause chaos, I needed at least some semblance of a plan, especially with someone keeping guard.

Trying to beat him up would likely make enough noise for someone to check in, and the mob would likely have some armed thugs close by for additional security…

I slammed my head into my table and heard the plates and cutlery rattle. “What the fuck am I doing?” I said in a muffled whisper.

I slowly turned my head around the restaurant and took in the lonely space. The white tiles and fluorescent lights made me feel like I was somewhere sterile, like a doctor’s office, but the red tablecloths scattered on the tables did well to break that monotony. That little touch of humanity elevated it to feeling like a therapist’s office, a place with an artificially imposed comfort meant to get people to open up about themselves. And it was making me open up to myself.

About how I was ready to pick a fight when there were likely armed gunmen in the same building. This wasn’t anything like getting the bank to unionize; they asked me to help them out first, and there wasn’t a single weapon involved! Even if it did paint a target on my back, it was nowhere near as direct as… this.

What was I doing this for? Why was I putting my life on the line?

Crunch

I bit into the garlic bread and gave it a slow chew. The strong flavor filled my mouth in small bursts every time my teeth clicked together. It was nice. It was… a comfort. The kind of simple comfort my life often lacked back home, one that I finally got to taste here as a humble handyman when I could just do my job in peace.

But the mob was a threat to that peace. For once, I’d turned my life into a garden I was finally happy with, and I’d do anything to keep it that way. As Voltaire said, “you have to cultivate your garden”, and I had a few weeds to pull.

So, how do I pull out these weeds? I’d have to take the diplomatic approach, and there was no question about it. I let out something between a grumble and a sigh.

It’d been a long day and I would’ve rather mindlessly used my fists to get results. A grin spread across my face when I remembered Charisma, and how I could let it do all of the thinking, but my smile quickly dropped into a frown when I remembered what that accursed attribute had gotten me into the last two times I’d used it. I could’ve sworn it had a mind of its own.

I wracked my brain trying to come up with some semblance of a plan that didn’t rely on Charisma. But out of all of my abilities, it was the only one that was truly impressive. At 19, I was one point away from being one of the most convincing people in the world! I could’ve used it to start a cult if I wanted to! My next closest attribute was Intelligence, sitting at 16, but all that could do was tell me how much I absolutely needed Charisma.

I let out a loud groan while grabbing at my hair. Why couldn’t the tournament have started sooner, I really needed those level ups! Sure, I could’ve just come back to try again later, but something about the moment felt right. The place was empty, and it was my first time here; they’d suspect a repeat customer as casing the joint. Not to mention that the head book cooker was gone, leaving me with too good of an opportunity!

Besides, Hiroi said that he was unable to keep up with the mob’s latest payments, and I didn’t know if I’d be able to get strong enough to hit them hard without any worries before… I didn’t want to think about it.

Eventually, I took a deep breath and accepted things for how they were. For all it could do, Charisma was always going to be a horny negging asshole.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

My head shot up. That was it!

I got back up and approached the back door while cracking my neck and channeling the terrible ability. I had practically made it a personal policy to show up any asshole who got in my way, but just this once, I was going to have to work with one.

Once through, I found myself in a plain tiled hallway with nothing to decorate the bland walls, not even security cameras.

“Hey, who are you? You’re not supposed to be here,” said the lone man standing in the corridor with a low growl. He looked like a stereotypical 80s geek, with thick glasses and white button that had a breast pocket filled with pens. Despite his pipsqueak demeanor, there was a fire in his voice, the kind that would be unashamed at shouting for help at the first sign of trouble.

“So I guess your manager ran off on you, huh?” I asked, letting Charisma slick my voice with a certain level of cocky suave. “And he even left you with all the work.”

“I asked a question, who are you?” he repeated.

“Who do you think I am, buddy?” I shot back. “Do I have to flash you some kind of ID?”

He took a step back at my demeanor.

That was what Charisma was, a cocky asshole, and my plan to properly use it was to just let it do its thing. Sex and power, that was all it cared about, so I was going to have it offer the first and project the second.

The scrawny man took a deep breath to power through the intimidation and eked out a question. “S-so you’re with the org, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Trick question, we don’t call it ‘the org’. So who the hell are you?”

I froze. Was this really the best 19 Charisma could do for me, get me caught after a few seconds? Were it and the System really that pathetic?

Something in my brain stirred, some part of it that was connected to the System. A faint pulse of emotion flared up that wasn’t quite my own. It was a feeling of pride, and it held a meaning; challenge accepted.

A second later, my lips started working on their own. “Well, I call it the clan, so I don’t give a shit what you call it.”

The man adjusted his glasses and let out a grumble, but didn’t make any more complaints. I did my best not to let out a sigh of relief.

“My manager’s out on a date. He’ll be back in an hour to help me out.”

“Yeah sure, only an hour. I remember all my dates taking exactly that long.” My lips curled up into a sarcastic grin.

He hunched his shoulders and looked around before whispering. “There’s no way that man could ever get a woman to like him for more than an hour, so I think he’s actually just getting laid. It definitely won’t be that long.”

“Right.” I nodded with a mocking smile. “And he leaves little old you to clean up the mess while he gets to have all the fun with a prostitute.”

“I mean, I know he’ll… hold on, how the hell do you know that?!”

I looked right into the man’s eyes with a sneer, he wasn’t going to pull another fast one over me. But what was he trying to pull?

“…no, really. How did you know he was doing it with one of them?”

My mouth creaked open and it took a lot of my willpower not to drop the tough-guy act. “Uh, who else will he have sex with after the bank unionized?”

“Well nobody’s got a reason to think it’s with a prostitute when they’re practically unionized as well, so how’d you figure it out?”

“You think I’d actually tell you?” I scoffed. “Just know I’m well connected, and far above you.”

“D-do you know one of them, then? Yeah, that makes sense. It’s not even a real union, just a ladies’ agreement, so I’m not surprised there are leakers. But why would any of them turn around like that?”

“You say it like they hate us.”

“They do, after we tried taking a cut from them for working the streets. Now they won’t service any of us!”

“Wow, you sure do blab a lot,” I said with an icy look. “No wonder your boss needs to keep looking over your work.”

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” the man said with a stutter. “I-I-I”

While the man was at his lowest, I focused my Charisma back into my voice, ready to deliver the finishing blow. “Well, the good news is that the big boss has got more than just one prostitute like that reserved for the best people here. Somehow, and against my advice, he made sure you had a place amongst them. He says to get your ass over to Victoria’s Garden as soon as you can.” I knew that the casino had some kind of connection to the mob, and that it was at least a twenty minute drive away. That would give me plenty of time to mess things up.

“Wait up, he?” The man pushed up his glasses and stood straight, powering through the psychological vice I had him in. “The big boss is a woman! What are you up to?!” He began to raise his voice.

I bit my lip and began to think. With the rate he was getting back his confidence, I didn’t have much time before he figured me out. As he took in a deep breath to shout, I lifted up my hands to calm him. “Easy, easy! I was talking about my boss who got you a woman. The big boss gave him a quota and decided to save a spot for you!”

“Why would your boss save a spot for me?”

“Eh, politics.” I shrugged. “We need some money laundered at a good rate, and your boss is kind of a prick.”

“You can say that again.” The man leaned back on the wall and rolled his eyes. “So what is it you want from me in return, exactly?”

“Better laundry rates, for starters. And maybe some free dessert? The tiramisu’s a fucking ripoff.”

“Yeah, I could do that. And you said at Victoria’s Garden, right?”

“That’s right, go have some fun, kid!”

The accountant didn’t even say goodbye before rushing past me and out the back door. A couple of seconds later, and his car zoomed past outside and out onto the road.

The smarmy look on my face slowly dropped into a tired frown as I turned off Charisma. That worked better than expected, but rather than letting out a genuine smile, I only felt a small shiver. I was in control of myself the entire time, but I was almost certain now that the System might’ve had a mind of its own.