"So, the two of you really pulled off a bank heist and succeeded?" Jacob repeated, his tone more deliberate this time. A look of genuine surprise briefly crossed his face, but it quickly faded, replaced by a calm, enigmatic smile. "Interesting," he added, almost as if complimenting an art piece.
Jacob's outward composure was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in his mind. Sam Johnson, he thought, the man everyone held up as the golden standard of decency and morality back in the day, now revealed as a literal bank robber? The revelation was a jarring contradiction to the image Jacob had carried of Sam all these years. It was surreal—almost as if the universe had played a cruel trick on him.
"You don't seem perturbed by what you just heard," Henry observed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Jacob. His tone was skeptical, almost probing, as if testing Jacob's reaction for cracks.
Jacob shrugged lightly, his voice steady. "It was a surprise, of course. The Sam I remember wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone rob a bank. But then," he added with a faint chuckle, "life is unpredictable, isn't it?"
Even Sam, who had braced himself for a barrage of anger or perhaps even moral condemnation, was caught off guard by Jacob's nonchalant reaction. His own guilt and unease had primed him for judgment, but Jacob's composed demeanor left him disoriented.
"Interesting response," Henry said, his tone tinged with suspicion. His grip tightened slightly on the shard of glass in his hand, though he remained still.
Jacob merely smiled at him, the kind of smile that made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. "I'm not one to get worked up over something I can't change," he replied smoothly. "Besides, I'm more intrigued than anything. After all, who would've thought good ol' Sam had such a hidden side?"
The tension in the room thickened, and silence hung in the air as Jacob's words sank in. Sensing the discomfort among the three, Jacob let out a light chuckle, snapping his fingers. It was a subtle but sharp sound, and in an instant, his bodyguard stepped into the room. The towering man filled the doorway, his imposing presence adding a tangible weight to the already suffocating atmosphere.
"As I was saying," Jacob continued, his voice calm yet commanding, "life is unpredictable. And while your actions may have broken the laws of this country," he paused for effect, letting his gaze sweep over the three of them, "the only law that truly matters is whether or not you get caught."
Sam's brows furrowed, his uncertainty evident. "Meaning...?" he asked hesitantly.
Jacob took a deliberate step forward, his hands casually resting in his pockets as he tilted his head slightly, as if studying Sam. "Meaning," he said, his tone dropping into something far colder, "that I've inherited my family's business—a business where things like theft, and yes, even murder, are simply... routine."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop with those words. Sam, Henry, and Emi all froze, their expressions darkening as a wave of nervousness washed over them. For a moment, no one spoke. The sheer weight of Jacob's declaration, paired with the presence of the hulking bodyguard, left the three of them visibly unsettled.
Jacob was deeply satisfied with the reactions he was getting. Just a bit more, he thought, and he could fully convince Sam of his fabricated identity as a mob boss. However, he knew he needed to remain cautious—Henry was still gripping a glass shard, making the situation potentially volatile.
"For now, let's have a civilized talk, shall we?" Jacob smirked, gesturing toward the nearby couch. But as he moved closer, he noticed fragments of shattered glass scattered across its surface. His smirk faltered slightly. "Hmm, looks like we'll be having this conversation while standing."
Henry, Sam, and Emi exchanged wary glances, their postures stiff with tension. For the first time since Jacob had intervened, Emi broke her silence. "And what exactly are we supposed to talk about?"
"In this current situation, it's best to have a conversation to resolve the problem." Jacob's tone was calm but firm, carrying an air of authority.
"Talk? Hmph!" Henry sneered, his grip tightening on the glass shard. "There's nothing to talk about—"
"Yes, there is," Jacob interrupted coldly, locking eyes with Henry. "If you all got your fair share from robbing a bank, then why are you even here?"
The room fell silent for a moment, tension hanging thick in the air.
"Actually…" Sam's voice broke the silence, catching both Jacob and Henry off guard.
"…we have a boss we work for. I was supposed to give him 80 percent of the money I got. But, well, I got too greedy, so I didn't."
"80 percent?" Jacob repeated, more to process the information than to ask a question. He couldn't help but think about how absurd it sounded. Imagine robbing a bank and losing 80 percent of the loot to someone else. After taking a moment to digest the revelation, he responded, "So what's left for all of you?"
Sam hesitated, his gaze flickering toward Emi. "There are four of us in the group," he said after a pause, his voice quieter now. "Emi's one of them."
"So if you gave him 80 percent, and there are four of you, that would leave you all with only 5 percent each, correct?" Jacob asked, raising an eyebrow at the absurd arrangement.
"That's right," Sam nodded, confirming Jacob's quick calculation.
"I must say, you're quite brave for accepting such terms," Jacob said dryly. "But hey, if you got the money you wanted, good for you."
Henry, however, was not having it. "Hmph! So what if our boss gets 80 percent? He's the one who funded the entire operation. The equipment, vehicles, communication devices," Henry sneered, glaring at Jacob as if the explanation was directed at him. "Unlike a certain someone," he continued, his voice laced with venom, "who ran away with all the money while leaving us with nothing but dirt."
Then, Henry turned his fiery gaze toward Emi. "Oh, I almost forgot—there are two of you bastards."
"You piece of shit!" Sam snapped, his anger boiling over as he stepped forward, fists clenched.
Henry arrogantly waved the glass shard in front of him, smirking. "Go ahead. Try something," he taunted.
"Calm down," Jacob interjected, sighing loudly. The situation was escalating fast, and to make things worse, Sam seemed to be completely distracted from Jacob's fabricated mob boss persona. Jacob knew that if this continued, the entire charade could crumble.
"So, Sam," Jacob said in a calm but firm tone, trying to redirect the conversation. "You have no plan to return the money?"
Sam hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've spent most of it on this villa," he admitted, glancing around the luxurious room. "And the rest... I invested in a business venture."
"See?" Henry exploded, his face contorted with rage. "Ungrateful bastard!" His grip on the glass shard tightened as he took a step closer to Sam. "Return our money, or I'll report this to the cops! I don't care if I get locked up too. I just hope we end up as cellmates so I can beat the living shit out of you every single day, you fucking piece of shit!"
[Ding!]
Jacob's eyes widened as the familiar notification sound echoed in his mind. A floating screen appeared before him, and new text began to materialize.
[Due to the unusual development, an additional mission has been added.]
---
[Additional Mission: The Mob Boss]
Description:
As the self-proclaimed boss of a mafia, you have encountered the shady past of your old classmate, Sam, and discovered he was a robber. As the mob boss, it is your responsibility to make a decision and resolve this conflict.
Condition:
Solve this problem using any means necessary.
Additional Reward:
Skill: Status Checker (3-time use)
500 EXP
20 LAP
25 AP
---
Jacob stared at the screen, his expression one of disbelief. For the first time since he had been dragged into this bizarre system, he was being offered a skill.
"A skill?" Jacob muttered under his breath, his brows furrowed. His heart raced as he reread the reward section, particularly the line that mentioned Status Checker. He wasn't entirely sure what it entailed, but the fact that it was labeled a skill piqued his interest. Skills were bound to be significant—potential game-changers—and this was the first one the system had ever offered.
His excitement was short-lived, however, as he was quickly reminded of the situation at hand. He glanced at the others. Sam was standing stiffly, his face flushed with anger, while Henry, with the jagged glass shard in hand, was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. Meanwhile, Emi was frozen, her expression hard to read as she glanced nervously between the two men.
Jacob sighed deeply. The notification was clear: he needed to solve this mess in a way befitting a supposed mafia boss. Whatever that entailed.