Even though the Black Iron Dwarf expressed his skepticism, the man in the trench coat merely told everyone that he had taken out a "death loan," instantly clearing out a large space in front of the tavern.
Although the status of a "death loan" becomes quite obvious to everyone eventually, making it easier for passersby to steer clear of such a plague-bringer and giving the borrower a deeper sense of despair, the group had been so absorbed in watching the game that they hadn't noticed the faint shadow enveloping the trench-coated gentleman.
That was indeed the shadow of a "death loan," and evidently, the loan had already begun its "final settlement." Getting entangled with such a person might drag one into that "final settlement" as well.
The Black Iron Dwarf immediately withdrew a message and fully expressed his lack of acquaintance with the trench-coated man, even sincerely praying to the God of Death, claiming he really hadn't seen the shadow.
I have severed ties, and I don't understand what this person was just talking about.
He also told the trench-coated brother that since he was about to die, he had successfully secured the rights to use the machine for the next few hours.
The man in the trench coat was pleased with this outcome and turned back to join the intense battle for the last time.
And within just an hour, the man stepped away from the machine.
"I've run out of time, and I've kept my promise..."
Everyone knew that it wasn't a lack of time but a lack of money to buy Game Coins.
"It's a bit regrettable, but life, well, it should have some regrets..."
The man told everyone about the dangers of taking a loan, how his life was better off badly lived than not at all. But because he wanted to live better, he took out a death loan, a classic case of seeking quick success and trying to defy fate.
The result? Although he reached the pinnacle of life for a moment, it led to his child being crushed, his company bankrupt, himself heavily in debt and sick, and his wife got it on with a real Minotaur.
Was it worth it?
Just then, in front of the tavern, crowds of various races were moved to tears by his story.
Although everyone thought it was his own fault, it was indeed a sorrowful tale.
Only the Minotaur people were making a ruckus, insisting that among them were purists, and individual Minotaur behavior should not be attributed to the entire race...
"Enough of that, folks, I'm off to commit suicide. If any of you can get through the seventh level, let me know at the public cemetery. I've already picked out my plot, it's at XXX..."
The man left. Although he didn't want to die now and suddenly found himself full of hope for life, the "death loan" meant he still had to die.
But now, he didn't want to jump into a filthy ditch.
Dying in a contented state, they say that those who take out death loans, although they seem to die in the material world, their souls do not perish. Instead, they become servants of the God of Death, like managers, continuing to tempt other degenerates to take out the same death loans.
The man in the trench coat thought that if this were the case, then he might have a chance to return to this world.
Next time, he would definitely make it through the remaining levels.
That would surely symbolize a fresh start in his life.
As he thought so, he pulled out a flintlock pistol and pressed it against his head.
With a loud bang...
The trench-coated man's tightly closed eyes opened.
"Huh?"
There was no restart, he was unharmed, but the barrel of the gun was still firmly against his head.
There were bullets inside, and the sound of the gunshot had gone off.
So, where did the bullet go?
....
"A person, falling from the pinnacle of life to its lowest depths in an instant, creates a disparity in value that is the value of death. But if he suddenly develops a hope to live, no longer wanting to die, but forced to die due to some external factor, then the value of such a death is greatly diminished."
"It's like a gourmet meal suddenly turning into a pile of dung."
"No wonder he was about to die and then became so joyful all of a sudden."
Preventing a low-value soul from contaminating the total soul pool should be a good thing.
"So, does the source of this joyous death come from here?"
An attractive boy in a long black coat and tall hat appeared outside the tavern; he looked to be around fourteen years old, with black eyes and golden curls.
From his attire, the oversized black coat was clearly too large for the handsome lad, and the tall hat as well, casting half of his face in shadow.
Outside the tavern, the noise had resumed.
The young Miss Vampire quickly started charging fees, increasing the price according to the duration of play.
Though the onlookers cursed her for her blood-sucking ways, she took it as a compliment.
"There's only one machine. When the new machines arrive, the prices will return to normal... What's that, you say I'm a pure-blood from the Blood Clan? Thank you!"
Miss Malt revealed a radiantly bright and beautiful smile.
But she didn't set the prices too outrageously; in fact, they were quite affordable — playing for twenty minutes cost less than a pint of beer.
Charging by duration was merely a tactic; what mattered was attracting customers. Miss Malt knew this well—the machine itself was almost cost-free; she profited no matter how much she charged, and this behavior was precisely what that deity required her to "do."
This was clearly an interesting new venture. Having broken away from her original clan, the favor of a new god meant she might have the chance to ascend to the "Angel Envoy" tier.
"Get off the machine now!"
So, under this system of charging by the duration of play, the onlookers developed substantial malice towards those poor gamers who hogged the arcade game for too long.
Especially that Black Iron Dwarf. The crowd cursed him just as he had cursed the man in the coat before.
"Well played, but don't play next time!"
The Black Iron Dwarf's dark face turned red; although he had just mocked the man in the coat for his lack of skill, he was even less proficient, fumbling for twenty minutes before barely making it to the third level, then his game time ran out.
The angry dwarf hadn't had the chance to add more money before he was squeezed off the machine by the crowd.
"Wait a moment, I hope you can give me this opportunity."
As the new dog-headed person prepared to insert his Game Coin, a small hand pressed down on the back of his hand.
"Ah, kid, you want to steal my spot? I've been waiting for a long time!"
The dog-headed person bared his teeth and snarled!
The handsome boy wearing the black coat was very polite, tossing a Gold Coin under the angry glare of the dog-headed person.
The dog-headed person's anger dissipated in an instant.
"Look, that's clearly your spot, how did it end up under my backside?"