"And stay out!" The slamming of a door could be heard amongst the whispers of the townsfolk, directed at a single man rubbing his backside after landing on it.

"Rude old bat! You should be honoured!" The man shot the woman shouting at him a look, sticking his tongue out at her as he walked away, with the woman shouting profanities at him as he left.

Huffing and puffing down the road, he pressed the sandals below his feet against the stony pavement, his dirty robes fluttering in the breeze.

So what if he tried to cop a feel? He was the Divine Swordsman! His Untraced Void Style was unbeatable and unstoppable by anyone above and below the heavens! He could do whatever he liked!

Continuing his little huff, the 'Divine Swordsman' ignored the looks of pity the people gave him, opening up a path in the crowd so as to avoid him.

And why does everyone keep saying he's a hobo?! His outfit is wonderful, thank you very much! And his beard is in perfect condition! He likes it like this!

Despite his constant muttering curses, the man crinkles his nose ever so slightly at the scent he smells on the air. Fainter than the wind as it is, but he still smells it.

Wait, how far had he walked already? He doesn't even remember how he got to this area.

The closer he gets, the more his mouth waters. He can smell it.

Something delicious.

His stomach lurched and grumbled, twisting in his midriff and forcing a grimace out of the man.

Ignore how far he'd walked; he was pretty sure he hadn't eaten in a week or two. Maybe three? Cultivators don't need to eat as often as mortals do, but they tend to keep the habit of eating up anyway, as it provides a small energy boost and grounds them to reality - not that many cultivators are grounded to reality anyway, but it's the thought that counts.

Needless to say, the man practically sprinted towards the smell. What was it?!

Was it chicken, or beef?

Was it savoury, or sweet - perhaps even spicy!

Was it a large, or small meal?

He had to know! He just had to!

The man dashed down the street, rusty sword at his hip as he leaped into the fray, shattering his opposition.

***

"This isn't going as well as I thought it would." Jacob sighed.

[What did you expect? No one here knows what he even is.] The system 'helpfully' supplied.

After assuring Little Zhong that, no, he had not sold himself into sexual slavery as an 8 year old, Jacob had got to work with his master plan.

"Well I don't know, I thought they'd be more open-minded!" He threw his hands up and complained to the system. "They live in a world of magic demons and talking swords and shit! I thought they'd find it more normal!"

[Jacob, nothing about Ronald McDonald is normal. Nothing.]

He sighed because, as per usual, the system was right.

It was a good idea initially too! He bought some makeup and an outfit from the system shop - despite needing to take a small loan since he's a bit broke right now - and began dressing Little Zhong up as the company mascot!

Ronald worked on Earth, so why not here?

Turns out, he doesn't work at all.

Sure, he could say it's because he hired an 8 year old runt the size of his leg to play the part, since Ronald was meant to be tall, but that would be cowardly to use as an excuse.

'I guess people just aren't ready to go flavour town with Ronald McDonald.' Jacob sighed again, putting his face in his hands. What was he meant to do now? He's already in debt with the system from the makeup and outfit he bought, Little Zhong is apparently not a very great mascot, and he's out of ideas.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Getting hungry, Jacob invited Little Zhong back inside and told him to clean up and take a break.

Maybe he'll feel better after eating some food...

"I told you the outfit was too weird, Boss." Zhong Bao had decidedly got a little more snark after realising he wasn't selling his body any more, and had begun taking his grievances out on Jacob when he felt like it.

"Nonsense! The people just aren't ready for Ronald yet. It's a future endeavour! Yeah, that's all..." Jacob continued muttering things under his breath, things which sounded a lot like he was lying to himself.

Gaslighting himself? No, no, this is manifestation. Very different.

...alright, at least it's not Tarot cards. He had a girlfriend who was into those once. Total red flag, she tried murdering his parents when she first met them.

Not fun.

Either way, Jacob put himself behind the grill and cooked up a few patties for hamburgers, which immediately silenced Little Zhong's complaints. Say what you will about the boy, but he knows to shut up if he wants to eat something good.

Flipping the patties, Jacob pressed down on them with a slotted spatula as they sizzled over the grill. He waited for a few minutes as he flipped them around and gave them little pushes until they were done, putting them between some buns and taking a bite as he passed the other one to Little Zhong.

Harmlessly opening the window, he lets the breeze flow through as he continued to eat his hamburger in peace. He thinks of what's happened since he arrived here: First meeting the system, greeting the Castellan and his guards, actively avoiding the thought of his Quest, technically-not-kidnapping Zhong Bao - things are nice.

"You know system, this whole thing might be kind of crazy and weird, but I really appreciate you being there for me. I don't know where I'd be without you." He smiles towards the black box hovering nearby, his expression warm.

[Jacob...]

"I want you to know that whatever happens, I'm grateful that you-" The sound of glass shattering covered what Jacob was saying, immediately shutting him up as he looked at the broken window where a hobo stood.

The man was breathing heavily, staring at him with gluttony in his eyes, so he stared back.

A contest of wills, made manifest only by their unanimous glares. Not including the very confused 8 year old.

...

.....

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!"

"GIVE ME THAT FOOD!"

The hobo ran at Jacob like a man possessed, vaulting the service counter and jumping at him like an animal. The hobo - mid-air mind you - grabbed the hamburger out of his hand, stuffed it in his mouth and landed with a slap of his sandals, chewing with disgusting, sloppy noises.

"Mm god, this is so good. Totally worth it." The hobo then quickly pivoted on his heel and vaulted back over the counter, licking his lips as he began running off.

"SYSTEM!" Jacob shouted, pointing a finger in the fleeing hobo's direction. "FUCK HIM UP!"

"Ack!"

On command, the man slumped to the floor, unmoving. Traces of the hamburger he stole leaking onto the tiled floor from his mouth as he twitched on the ground, not unlike a dead bug.

Walking over to the thief, Jacob poked him a few times to make sure he was out before asking an important question.

"What the hell am I meant to do with a Hamburglar?" Even as he voiced the question aloud, Jacob knew it was dumb. He knew exactly what to do with a Hamburglar.

If Ronald was too strange for their sensibilities, then perhaps a thief is something they can better relate to and support as a mascot.

Yes, this will work nicely.

Very nicely indeed...