Tristan beamed at the gathered people and bowed, which made them applaud some more.
This… this was better than drugs.
"I'm glad you liked it, everyone. I'm just practicing… But one day I will have a social page with a billion followers!"
After this, Tristan kept playing songs he still remembered after these years, for as long as his amplifier had the charge.
Some people eventually grew bored and left his audience, but others became attracted to the sound instead.
Although often Tristan made mistakes or forgot the lines, the attention of people was like the most powerful stimulant for him. He sang and played, and he put all his joy from this second change in life into the music.
And in the process of this, he was assaulted with system notifications. At this point, his brain was filtering out the 'ding' sound.
[Ding!]
[You had impressed an audience of 3 people with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 10.]
[Ding!]
[You had impressed an audience of 6 people with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 20.]
[Ding!]
[You had impressed an audience of 4 people with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 10.]
[Ding!]
[You had impressed an audience of 2 people with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 10.]
[Ding!]
[You had impressed an audience of 6 people with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 20.]
[Ding!]
[Stage presence skill increased by 4. Reward: your CP increased by 40.]
[Ding!]
[Voice control skill increased by 2. Reward: your CP increased by 20.]
[Ding!]
[Stage presence skill increased by 2. Reward: your CP increased by 20.]
[Ding!]
[Singing skill increased by 1. Reward: your CP increased by 10.]
[Ding!]
[Songwriting skill increased by 1. Reward: your CP increased by 10.]
[Ding!]
[Charisma attribute increased by 1. Reward: your CP increased by 100!]
'Wow… that's a lot of Criminal Points. Especially from increasing my charisma!' Tristan thought, scrolling through his notifications later.
He was doing this as he walked toward his apartment with a guitar hanging over his shoulder and the guitar kit in a bag.
'Although more people than 6 listened to me, it looks like SIS only counts people I impressed for the first time. Or perhaps, because they were impressed already, I need to impress them more for SIS to give me a reward?'
Then he thought about another thing, something that slipped his mind entirely when he was playing.
'Damn, I could've probably earned some tips if I put a cup for money nearby. Oh well. It couldn't have been that much money. Besides, now I can get more money in a better way.'
After dropping his guitar at home, Tristan, wearing his pop-star identity again, went toward the usual haunt of Mark's gang.
He didn't forget about them and the cash they should still have on them after their robbery!
The place where the gang liked to hang out was a dilapidated playground a stone's throw away from the nearest liquor store. No kids played here anymore, and the gang had scared off anyone else who wanted to sit and drink on the benches there.
Right now, the trio was sitting on a bench, drinking beer and chatting casually. Evelyn was draped over Mark's chest, cooing at him lovingly.
Tristan was careful with this. Instead of the jacket that the gang was familiar with, Tristan put on a black T-shirt that could belong to anyone.
Even if his face was unrecognizable for many reasons, Tristan didn't want the gang to suspect anything.
He walked past the bench, with his heart beating anxiously in his chest.
But he didn't have to fear.
When Tristan threw a passing glance at Mark, Evelyn, and Ricky, he saw no recognition on their faces.
"Hey, what are you staring at?" Mark shouted, meeting Tristan's eyes. "This is our hangout, get the hell out!"
Tristan turned away, sneering, and walked away.
He learned what they needed—the trio was doing perfectly fine without him, and didn't fear his revenge at all. Even if they knew he wasn't taken in by cops, they didn't care.
Their mistake.
In a diner near his home, Tristan ate lunch and checked his today's system shop.
[======]
[===Shop===]
[Hypnotic voice talent: 3000 PP]
[Playing piano skill: 10 PP]
[Hacking skill: 10 CP]
[Combat analysis skill: 10 CP]
[Glock 19: 1000 CP]
[1 ammo magazine for Glock 19: 300 CP]
[======]
'Tsk… Everything that looks interesting is too expensive for me to buy today. It looks like if I want to buy anything in the shop, I must get at least a few thousand points first, then check it.'
It wasn't such a problem, but Tristan was planning to spend all his current points today.
He tapped through the system windows and put all 425 CP he had into his close-quarters combat skill.
[Ding!]
[Close-quarters combat skill increased from 21 to 446.]
Suddenly, Tristan felt an influx of knowledge in his brain and body. He swayed in his seat, then sat straighter.
'Status.'
[======]
[Tristan Gemello (Tristan Hayes)]
[Current identity: Pop-star. Second identity: Criminal.]
[Rank: Nobody.]
[Pop-star Points: 0]
[Criminal Points: 0]
[===Attributes===]
[Appearance: 33]
[Charisma: 30]
[Fearsomeness: 24]
[Strength: 17]
[Dexterity: 24]
[Toughness: 40]
[===Skills===]
[Singing: 51]
[Dancing: 8]
[Playing guitar: 125]
[Music theory: 19]
[Music production: 8]
[Acting: 20]
[Songwriting: 14]
[Voice control: 34]
[Stage presence: 16]
[Sneaking: 20]
[Close-quarters combat: 446]
[Observation: 31]
[Driving: 16]
[Pickpocketing: 28]
[===Talents===]
[Clark Kent Effect]
[======]
Tristan became much more powerful just now, but without using the skill in practice, it was hard to say how much.
However, he was going to practice soon.
Smirking, Tristan finished his dinner and went home.
***
Next day.
Evelyn wouldn't have recognized Tristan when he walked into their usual hangout place, if not for his jacket and the hoop earring in his left ear.
The ugly scars that covered his face were entirely gone!
But the condescending, cold look in his eyes remained. The same look that irked Evelyn from the start.
"Huh? Scarface, is that you?! What the hell happened to your face?" Mark asked, standing up from the bench.
Tristan sneered.
"Call me that one more time, and I will break your jaw. Mark, Evelyn, Ricky—this is your last chance to kneel and apologize profusely. Otherwise…"
He cracked his knuckles.
"I will really fuck you up."