Do you know the term "Concorde Effect"?
It seems to be a type of cognitive bias.
I was struck by this psychological phenomenon.
In other words, I fell victim to the phenomenon of pouring money into gambling.
.
.
.
Gambling is the ultimate entertainment.
You can make a lot of money easily.
If you lose, it's zero.
It's exhilarating.
Horse racing has drama in just a few minutes.
Winners and losers are determined in that moment of struggle.
It made my thoughts boil over with excitement.
"It's not about winning or losing. It's about whether you do it or not."
I held my betting ticket tightly, my heart racing.
A seasoned gambler never misses a chance like this.
All or nothing...
My fate was in the balance.
As the gate opened, the stands were enveloped in a frenzy of excitement.
"Go! Catch up!"
"Don't let him get away!"
"Damn it! The track conditions are too bad!"
The people next to me were caught up in the boiling cauldron of excitement.
I put all my assets into a G1 race.
I jabbed my money into gambling.
"This can't be true..."
And I lost.
Lady Luck did not smile upon me.
.
.
.
The venue was filled with cheers. I was standing in a corner of the hall, completely white as scraps of paper flew around.
I had come down to the lower world to indulge in gambling.
"I have to find some villains... Or should I do it in the dungeon?" I muttered to myself.
As a successful person, I was a thing of the past. Now, I was a loser. A loser of capitalism. My remaining funds were almost zero.
"I have to beat up some villains and make money... I have to defeat some weak monsters and make money," I mumbled to myself with empty eyes, like a zombie.
With weak legs, I left the gambling hall and found myself walking through the back alleys of the bustling city.
I had no memory of how I got there. People often experience memory loss when they go through a shocking event.
Then, I bumped into someone.
"Hey, you!" It was a tough-looking guy. Before I knew it, he had grabbed my shirt and was berating me.
He had a flashy Aloha shirt, tattoos on his arms, and a punch perm hairstyle.
What a character. Only a seasoned veteran could pull off the
"Hyahaha"
role like that. It was a difficult role to master, requiring excellent acting skills. Furthermore, only someone with a certain mental state could wear such a lame outfit.
An Aloha shirt, punch perm, and tattoos that would leave a lifetime of scars. To go to such lengths to play the
"Hyahaha" role was unheard of for a normal, well-educated person.
I admired him.
I realized that I couldn't match his sincerity. Even as a mob, he was on a different level.
I was defeated again.
Defeated by both the level of the mob and the power of capitalism.
"Compensation! ☆×～～" The mob guy, whom I admired, was now shouting incomprehensible insults at me.
"I'm perfect," I said.
"Your lines suit you perfectly as a low-level mob character," I added.
"As a low-level mob character, all you have to do is bark and intimidate," I continued.
"Give me a break. I don't have talent like you," I said, with self-deprecation.
"I've been a mob character for decades, but I can't do a Hyahaha role like you," I admitted.
It was a complete defeat.
I was a pitiful creature possessed by the power of money.
I chuckled to myself.
"What are you laughing at?" he asked.
"Sorry," I apologized involuntarily.
"If you can't make it right, I don't need the cops!" he threatened.
My brother's mood seemed very bad.
Should I beat him up here?
No, that's not the cool way to do it.
I'm just a pitiful clown.
A broken doll who dances madly.
A true loser who can't even reach the level of a mob character.
A defeated person who has run out of money.
As I thought about this, a fist flew into my face.
.
.
.
"Ite te"
I was beaten up in a corner of an alleyway. I didn't have the energy to resist. After beating me up thoroughly, my brother took my thin wallet with barely any money left in it and left, seemingly relieved of his stress.
On top of a pile of garbage, I stared at the narrow city sky.
As I was spacing out,
"Why didn't you fight back...?"
It was a voice I knew.
"If it was you, you could have easily subdued them without a scratch, right?"
"Oh. It's you. Why?"
"It's not 'why?'! "
Komachi's face turned bright red, seemingly angry.
"Actually, why are you here?"
I was frightened.
Was she tailing me?
No way.
Komachi was supposed to have told me to show her gratitude a hundred thousand times with a display of 10,000 bows before the day was over.
"Because you gave us that stupid task. Then you go gamble. I don't understand it at all."
"Could you do 10,000 swings?"
"As if!"
It still seems impossible.
I gave Komachi a lesson on universal skills and quick thinking.
She should have been able to learn the skills.
Is it still impossible?
Actually, 10,000 swings are not enough.
You have to complete a million swings in under an hour, or you won't get any stronger.
"I see."
I looked up at the blue sky again.
"I didn't touch you because I didn't want to show off my strength. I hate bullying the weak."
"I don't understand."
She gave me a look like, "What are you talking about?"
"Think about it. If I had beaten up that guy here, what would happen after?"
"I don't know."
"You're stupid."
I was really annoyed by the stupidity of my self-proclaimed disciple.
"Can you stand up, Senpai?"
"Piece of cake."
I took her hand and stood up.
The two of us walked home together.
"Can I ask you one more thing, Senpai?"
"What?"
"Why didn't you fight back?"
"I don't like showing off my strength and bullying the weak."
"Huh?"
She looked at me like I was crazy.
"Think about it. If I had beaten up that guy here, then what?"
"I don't know."
"You're so stupid."
"What!? I'm worried about you!!" Komachi protested, her face turning red.
"That's why. What I'm trying to say is, if I beat him up here, it might end there," he said.
"..."
Komachi listened silently.
"But then what? His friends might come after me to beat me up."
"Well, you could just beat them up too, right?"
"That's why I said you're stupid. Are you going to do that your whole life? Beating someone up and then getting beaten up in return, over and over again."
"So...?" Komachi struggled to find her words.
"In the end, it might turn into a war. Worst-case scenario, it could turn into a killing spree. Doing unto others what they do unto you is what stupid people do. It's a dead-end."
"Do you understand?"
"..."
"You have to know when to use your strength. That's the fundamental lesson. Komachi is too weak. Weak people rely on their strength. They think everything can be solved with violence. Don't be conceited. Strength is only one means to an end."
"You still lack the essential strength. You have a lot to learn."
"I see. Thank you for your guidance, Master," Komachi said, bowing her head.
"Very well."
"By the way, why did you leave me behind to go gambling?"
"Huh?"
Where was he watching from, anyway?
"Why did you do that?"
He had no choice but to dodge the question.
Today was a crucial day for the G1 races, and he didn't want to waste his time on training and other bothersome things.
"Well?"
"Oh, I almost forgot..."
He had a serious problem: he was broke. All of his assets had just been wiped out. "Um, Komachi..."
"What's up? Will you answer my previous question?" she asked, giving me a doubtful glance.
"Forget about that!" I clapped my hands and cut to the chase. "Can you lend me some money?"
I bowed my head in a humble stance.
"No?"
"What the hell! Go die!" I was met with a second punch for the day.