Murphy's phone had been through thick and thin with him, weathering countless challenges. It wasn't just a device; it was a companion. Most importantly, it held his browser history—something that definitely needed to be wiped clean before he replaced it.
The sight of the cracked screen pained Murphy, but thankfully, despite the damage, it still functioned. Sure, half the screen was useless, but so what? He wasn't about to abandon his "old friend" over something so trivial.
Murphy tested the phone's functionality and, to his relief, adding new contacts still worked fine. The young officer he had just met introduced himself as Hsu, so Murphy saved his contact under the name "Officer Hsu."
Seeing the state of Murphy's phone, Officer Hsu raised an eyebrow. "It's still usable in this condition?"
Murphy affectionately patted his phone. "You wouldn't understand. This phone and I have been through storms together. It's not just a tool—it's a bond. How could I abandon it just because it's broken?"
Officer Hsu: ...
If he hadn't already looked into Murphy's situation during his recent visit to the station, he might have believed that nonsense.
After adding Officer Hsu to his contacts and receiving countless thanks from the young woman, Murphy managed to leave just in time for his next appointment.
This time, he opted for a cab.
Even though he was strapped for cash, there were some things you just couldn't cut corners on. For instance, the delay on the road earlier meant that if he didn't take a cab, he'd be late to the set.
The cab driver was an honest-looking middle-aged man, but as Murphy sat quietly, the driver kept stealing glances at him through the rearview mirror.
It wasn't even noon, and Murphy was still radiating the holy glow of his "Buddhist Son" card, exuding an aura of forgiveness and warmth.
The cab driver's greedy mind flickered, and soon the meter began ticking up at 1.5x the normal speed.
Murphy's eyes narrowed. Casually, he opened his phone and sent a voice message to Officer Hsu:
"Officer Hsu, when I come by this afternoon to give my statement, can I also report someone for overcharging fares?"
The cab driver's hand froze on the wheel.
Moments later, Officer Hsu replied with a chuckle in his voice: "Of course! You've already helped us meet this quarter's targets. If you're interested, I'll even personally guide you to the Commerce Bureau to file a formal complaint."
Before the message even finished playing, the cab's meter miraculously reset itself to a more reasonable rate.
Murphy smiled, satisfied.
As for Officer Hsu's quip about filing complaints? Young officers just liked to joke around. Once the clock struck noon, all of this strange luck would fade away.
In high spirits, Murphy arrived at the set, just in time.
Director Wynn was a round, middle-aged man who had made a name for himself with his commercial films. Though his works weren't necessarily masterpieces, they were always box office successes.
Getting a part in one of Wynn's films was a big opportunity for Murphy—a chance to climb back into the industry.
This particular film was a suspenseful battle royale story about a group of young adults exploring a deserted village, only to fall prey to a psychopathic killer. The plot twist? The male lead, who seemed gentle and trustworthy, was the murderer all along. The story climaxed with the killer and the female protagonist meeting their doom together in a grim reunion.
The premise wasn't groundbreaking, but Murphy knew the movie would be a hit at the box office. Still, he doubted it would earn much critical acclaim.
Wynn's films were like fast food—enjoyable but forgettable.
Murphy had been promised the role of Male #5: a handsome, aloof member of the group. The character wasn't central to the story but had enough lines and screen time to leave an impression. It was a good fit for Murphy, both as a favor and as a step back into the limelight.
When Murphy arrived on set, he respectfully greeted Director Wynn.
The director took one look at him and immediately decided he was perfect for the role. "No need to audition," Wynn said. "This character is all about looks, and you've got the face for it. Just stand there—you don't even need to act!"
Murphy, with his naturally cool demeanor, was a perfect fit.
However, Wynn hesitated. "But... there's something about your presence—what's the word for it? Compassionate? You're like a monk who's joined the main cast."
Murphy glanced at his watch. There was still an hour and a half until noon. He made an OK gesture. "Don't worry, Director. Once we start shooting, I'll adjust."
Satisfied with Murphy's assurance, the director moved on.
Wynn's crew was known for their fast-paced shooting schedules. Everything was quick—shooting, editing, release, profits, and, ultimately, being forgotten.
By noon, all the morning preparations were done, and Murphy grabbed a boxed lunch while waiting for his turn.
The lunch was greasy, a standard green pepper stir-fry, but Murphy ate it while flipping through the script to memorize his lines.
"Yes?"
"No way!"
"Run!"
"It's you?!"
...
Murphy stared blankly at the script.
No wonder Director Wynn didn't require an audition. The character's lines barely added up to a single monologue for the female lead. A mute actor might have sufficed.
Murphy sighed, tossed his lunch into the trash, and waited for noon to arrive.
As the clock struck twelve, the [Buddhist Son] card faded into nothingness.
For a brief moment, Murphy felt relieved—until he noticed the new card that had replaced it: [Ripper].
[Identity: Ripper]
Active Abilities:
Knife Mastery: Any blade, big or small, becomes your trusted companion in battle. Human Anatomy Expertise: Knowing the human body ensures precision in your strikes—no wasted effort.
Passive Abilities:
Extrajudicial Maniac: You exude an aura that instills fear, a result of... experience. Low Profile: Your presence diminishes naturally, making you less noticeable in a crowd.
Inherited Skill: Moths to the Flame.
Murphy froze.
[Ripper] itself wasn't the issue—its abilities were logical. But why was the inherited skill Moths to the Flame?
He'd have taken Raging Blindness or even Equality of All Beings! He didn't ask to be an "Angry Vajra"—just a decent "Buddhist Son."
But no, the universe gave him Moths to the Flame again.
A deep resentment radiated from Murphy, as if the heavens had conspired against him.
When the crew called for actors to assemble, the staff hesitated upon seeing him.
"Uh... someone call the police?!"