Eldritch Horror Theatre

You could only truly help someone once you figured out what they actually wanted.

Judging by the Containment Fulfillment Conditions, this was undoubtedly the core of the operation.

And he had to admit, the Old Man really did look completely different.

There was a saying that a man on his deathbed acts without restraint.

Someone wielding that kind of inhuman power might normally keep their head down, too intimidated by the Night Watchers to run wild.

But now that the Old Man was at death's door, that threat obviously held far less weight.

Under these circumstances, throwing the rulebook out the window and recklessly using transcendent power wasn't just likely—it wouldn't even be surprising if he stormed right into Lucy's house and kicked off an R-rated scene on the spot.

Yet, after Fu Qian stabilized the situation for him without even needing to use his gun, the Old Man hadn't cared at all about getting knocked flat by the door. He had simply sat on the ground for a moment before leaving just like that.

Ever since that moment, Fu Qian had been marveling at that mindset.

And the result? The Old Man really was keeping a remarkably low profile.

"I don't quite understand what you mean."

He seemed determined to stick to that facade even now.

Faced with Fu Qian's overly blunt question, Kadon fell silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, he actually still shook his head, his emotions visibly conflicted.

That wasn't the only bad news. It was incredibly easy for Fu Qian to observe that as the man spoke, his body was shifting into an attack stance.

The alert level of a Mid-Tier Transcendent was rapidly spiking, ready to rip him to pieces at a moment's notice.

"It's fine. See? He doesn't get it either."

Faced with this situation, Fu Qian smiled, displaying an astonishing level of easygoing patience. Not only did he not press the issue, he even shifted the topic back to the shop manager trembling outside the door.

"Please, come in. Make yourself at home."

Gesturing with his gun at the flinching man, he extended the invitation once more.

...

"I'm sorry... you can do whatever you want, just don't kill me..."

Prompted yet again, the plaid-shirted manager finally seemed to snap out of his stupor.

Even though an abyss of despair lay right in front of him, he ultimately lacked the courage to run. Trembling, he dragged his feet into the store step by step.

In the midst of his begging, his eyes couldn't help but fall on Kadon's chest.

It was obvious what terrified him. It wasn't just the gun that had proven it could kill a man, but also the man who couldn't be killed by a gun.

Fu Qian and Kadon hadn't bothered to hide their earlier conversation, making it easy for him to understand that standing before him was not only a vicious Thug, but a literal superhuman.

"Don't worry, he's fine."

Noticing the manager's gaze, Fu Qian naturally offered a word of comfort.

Even though the bleeding hadn't completely stopped, Fu Qian was absolutely certain of this.

Part of that confidence came from his understanding of a Mid-Tier Transcendent's physique. But more specifically, when it came to Kadon, Fu Qian believed the Old Man wouldn't die even if he took a bullet to the brain.

The logic was simple: if a headshot would kill him, it was practically impossible that this gun would have been handed over to him in the first place.

"You'd be better off worrying about yourself right now."

After that little pep talk, Fu Qian gave him that special reminder, stood up, and strolled all the way around to the front of the counter.

Thud!

The second the intricately engraved barrel pressed against the back of his head, the manager collapsed to his knees, lacking even the strength to squeeze out a plea for mercy.

"What's your name?"

Unfortunately, Fu Qian wasn't about to let him slack off. He pressed straight on.

"R—Raymond..."

His fear of death ultimately triumphed over his sheer terror. Panting like a bellows, the manager choked out an answer.

"Excellent, Raymond. You're about to die."

Although this cooperation earned him no pity, the armed Thug casually read out his fate.

"Is there anything you want to do?"

Though he did at least grant him the chance for a Death Rattle.

...

Raymond's brain kicked into gear, even if he didn't want it to.

That was the peculiar thing about the concept of death. Almost no one wanted to face it, yet no one could stop themselves from imagining it.

In fact, he wasn't the only one whose mind was racing right now; Kadon, over by the counter, was doing the exact same.

Besides the fact that he had just drunk some coffee to clear his head, Fu Qian's question was obviously incredibly easy for the Old Man to empathize with—it was almost as if the question was being asked directly of him.

"Drawing a blank? Or do you need to write up a Checklist?"

On the surface, however, Fu Qian was still focused on his exchange with Raymond, expressing dissatisfaction at the latter's silence.

"I..."

Unfortunately, even with this murderous aura to help him, Raymond still seemed to be struggling to think.

"You don't have a very good attitude toward customers."

Instead of continuing with pointless intimidation, Fu Qian kept his tone mild, helping him recall the past.

"I'm sorry... I'm really sorry, I was just in a bad mood at the time—"

With a hint that specific, the memory was clearly jogged at once. Amid his frantic apologies, Raymond even managed to try and explain away his terrible attitude from before.

"You don't like your job?"

Fu Qian didn't outright reject the apology.

"Yes... there is nothing worse than this..."

Perhaps driven by extreme emotional turmoil, Raymond not only agreed with Fu Qian, but even broke out of his shell enough to vent.

"True... your coffee is garbage, so what do you want to do?"

The exchange was becoming smoother. Sounding quite gratified, Fu Qian repeated his original question.

Hmm...

Unfortunately, Raymond's brain stalled out yet again.

"I—I don't know... I can't think of anything..."

And the moment he realized he was drawing a blank, his trembling instantly grew more violent.

...

Now that was more like it.

Little did he know, to Fu Qian, this answer was actually far more acceptable.

In truth, if one simply paid a little more attention, they would find that hating one's own life was just human nature. People became irritable, restless, and even aggressive because of it.

But the amusing part was that when you steeped yourself in that loathing for long enough, being asked what you actually wanted left you completely unable to answer.

So if Raymond had easily rattled off an answer, Fu Qian would have instead doubted its authenticity.

Click!

Of course, that didn't stop him from cocking the hammer a second later, causing the tightly shut-eyed Raymond to shake the beads of sweat from his face onto the floor.

"It's fine. At moments like this, people actually tend to need a bit of advice. Want to hear my take?"

"You are indeed doing a garbage job, and you're doing it like garbage, and you yourself are garbage, so much so that you can't find a single non-garbage thing to do."

The evaluation was practically a tongue twister. Raymond looked a bit dizzy from it, so much so that he even forgot to admit that Fu Qian was right.

"But there is still one thing you can do. Go buy a bag of the best coffee beans and leave them right there."

Fortunately, Fu Qian didn't have the bizarre quirk of demanding applause while speaking, so he simply continued dispensing life coaching.

"And if anyone named Bernard or Loretta ever passes through, brew them a cup."

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