Night in District 9 had a signature scent: a sharp cocktail of mana factory exhaust, cheap spices from goblin street vendors, and the faint but persistent smell of desperation.
To most people, it was the disgusting reek of poverty. To me, tonight, it was the smell of opportunity.
I crouched on the edge of a red brick building's roof, facing directly toward the Golden Chalice Guild—Barnaby's luxury shop. Cold night wind slapped the edges of my cloak, but I didn't flinch. My eyes locked onto the system interface hovering in front of my face, glowing pale blue against the darkness.
[ITEM: Mass Hysteria Signal (Glitch)]
[TARGET LOCATION: Golden Chalice Main Storefront]
[RADIUS: 3 Miles]
[PAYLOAD: "FLASH SALE! 99% OFF ALL LEGENDARY ITEMS! 5 MINUTES ONLY!"]
[ACTIVATION STATUS: Standby...]
"This is a bad idea, Boss," Miri squeaked. She sat beside me, busy chewing on a copper lightning rod she'd just ripped off the roof. "If the city guards catch us, we won't just get fined again. We'll get turned into soup."
"Soup's nutritious," I muttered, index finger trembling over the 'EXECUTE' button. "And we won't get caught physically. This isn't fire magic or explosions. It's a data signal. City guards look for mana traces, not bugs in reality's code."
I stared down. Barnaby's shop glowed bright like a golden zit on the district's dull, gray face. Through the large glass windows, I could see Barnaby's fat silhouette pacing back and forth. Probably counting money. Or planning new ways to make my life miserable tomorrow morning.
He thought he'd already won this war with that 5,000 gold fine. Thought I'd surrender, liquidate my assets, and leave town with my tail between my legs.
The problem with rich people like Barnaby was they assumed everyone played by the same rules: Fear the law.
Me? I feared starvation. And that fear made me very, very creative.
"Miri," I said quietly, glancing at the puffball. "Remember that Invisible Cloak card I made from paranoid chameleon skin last month?"
Miri stopped chewing. "The one that only lasts ten minutes and makes you itch like hell?"
"That's the one. Use it now. Your mission's simple: Infiltrate Barnaby's back warehouse. Don't steal anything. Just unlock the back door and make sure our escape route's clear. We'll need a way in when the crowd out front gets... enthusiastic."
Miri swallowed the last chunk of copper antenna with a crunch. "Payment?"
"One jar of Firefly Jam. The real stuff, not that cane sugar knockoff."
Miri snapped to attention, though her feet slipped slightly on the slick tiles. "Roger! Operation Polite Theft commencing!"
She vanished in a thin puff of smoke as she activated her innate skill, leaving me alone on the empty rooftop.
I took a long breath, filling my lungs with the district's dirty air. Showtime.
My hand pressed the holographic button.
[EXECUTING...]
[INJECTING FALSE PACKETS TO LOCAL NPC NEURAL NETWORK...]
[SUCCESS]
No explosion. No dramatic flash of light.
Just a strange sensation in the air—like static pressure before a lightning storm—then a brief, terrifying silence.
Then, the noise began.
At first, just a low murmur. Like bees approaching from the distance. From the narrow streets around the square, doors started opening one by one. Windows slammed open. Lights flickered on.
"Discount?" someone shouted in the distance, voice full of doubt but hope.
"LEGENDARY ITEMS FOR ONE SILVER?!" another voice answered, hysterical now.
"OUT OF MY WAY! I NEED A NEW SWORD FOR MY WIFE!"
Within seconds, the streets below transformed into a river of humanity. Hundreds—no, thousands—of people poured into the main road. Adventurers drunk in taverns threw down their glasses. Housewives haggling over vegetables ran with baskets in hand. Even a group of goblin scavengers joined the stampede, eyes glowing green with pure greed artificially implanted by my glitch signal.
Single target: The Golden Chalice Guild's front door.
The signal manipulated the Greed Sensor in their brains. They weren't thinking logically. They only knew that inside Barnaby's shop, treasure was being sold for trash prices.
I watched Barnaby stumble out of his shop door, waving his hands in confusion, tie askew.
"What's happening?! Shop's closed! Come back tomorrow!" he yelled, voice drowning in the thunder of footsteps.
But the crowd didn't hear 'closed'. They heard 'competition'.
"OPEN THE DOOR, FAT RAT!" an Orc in tattered leather armor roared.
"DON'T HOARD THE DISCOUNT FOR YOURSELF!" an old wizard shrieked, brandishing his staff.
The mob slammed into Barnaby's front door like a tsunami hitting a wooden shack. Window glass shattered with a satisfying crash. The iron barrier fence bent instantly. Barnaby screamed like a little girl and ran inside, slamming the thick wooden door and barring it from within in panic.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Thousands of fists, weapon hilts, and minor spells began pounding that door.
On the rooftop, I felt the Backflow vibration start crawling up my spine. This Mass Hysteria card had core concepts of 'Deception', 'Illusion', and 'Mass Manipulation'.
Suddenly, the world felt like... a stage play.
I looked at my own hands. Were these my hands? Or just props? Did truth even matter? No. What mattered was what people believed.
Lie, my brain whispered, voice slick as an oil snake. Truth is boring and poor. Lies are profitable art.
I grinned. This Backflow turned me into a Compulsive Deceiver. Perfect for crisis negotiations.
I stood, straightened my collar, and jumped down from the roof with movements that felt smoother than usual. I landed in the narrow, dark alley beside Barnaby's shop where shadows covered everything. Miri was already waiting there, the back warehouse door slightly ajar, showing a crack of yellow light.
"All clear, Boss," Miri whispered, materializing from thin air while frantically scratching her itchy back. "Front's total chaos. They started throwing rotten tomatoes. One hit Barnaby's golden statue head. Dented it."
"Good," I said, my tone sounding too confident. "Let's go save our unfortunate neighbor before he dies of fright."
We slipped inside through the back warehouse. The smell of monster oil, cardboard dust, and sharp lavender perfume immediately assaulted my nose. The pounding from the front sounded like approaching thunder. Vibrations from the front door made potion bottles on shelves rattle.
I found Barnaby in the middle room, hiding behind his luxurious counter. He clutched a metal cash box, trembling violently like jelly. His face was ghost-white, sweat soaking his expensive toupee until the glue started coming loose.
"They're going to kill me!" Barnaby babbled at the empty wall. "They want Legendary items! I don't have Legendary items! I just have stamina potions watered down with tap water!"
"Lovely night for business, isn't it, Barnaby?" I said casually, stepping out of the shadows between shelves like I'd just dropped by for tea.
Barnaby screamed, nearly throwing his cash box. "RAX?! How did you get in?! Get out! Or I'll call the guards!"
"Guards?" I laughed softly. A laugh that sounded too fake, effect of the Backflow enjoying this theater. "The guards are busy queuing out front, Barnaby. I just saw the Guard Captain trying to haggle for Dragon Scale Armor you don't own. He brought a discount coupon."
The sound of breaking glass echoed from the front again, louder. The mob had started breaking through the side display cases.
"Help me!" Barnaby crawled closer, forgetting his pride and our rivalry. "You... you're devious! You must have ideas! Do something! Disperse them!"
I sat on a wooden barrel filled with Slime Jelly, crossing my legs casually. In my head, various lie scenarios spun in circles, waiting to be chosen.
"I can disperse them," I said. My tongue itched to boast wildly. "I have connections with the West Wind God. I can summon a hurricane to blow them to the neighboring kingdom. Of course, it'll be expensive. Very expensive. Gods need offerings."
Barnaby didn't realize I was spouting complete bullshit. His panic blinded his logic. "How much?! I'll pay!"
"Not the hurricane," I corrected quickly, suppressing the impulse to lie further about my pet dragon. I had to get back to the plan. This Backflow was fun, but money mattered more. "They're angry because you don't have the cheap goods they want. The solution's simple: Give them cheap goods."
"I don't have cheap stock! Everything I sell is Premium!" Barnaby shrieked hysterically.
"Ah, what a coincidence," I patted my dimensional pouch—a worn leather belt bag that actually contained unlimited inventory. "I happen to be carrying 500 Mystery Boxes. Contents... well, let's call them 'Exotic Goods from Distant Lands'."
Actually, they were pure garbage. Failed production cards, expired potions that tasted like dirty socks, and cracked mana stones with zero energy. But packaged in mysterious black boxes with pretty red ribbons.
"You can sell these to them for ten silver per box. Just call it 'Luck Gacha'. They'll stop destroying your shop and get busy opening these boxes."
Barnaby stared at me suspiciously, sanity briefly returning. "You're selling me your trash at a time like this?"
"I'm selling you your life and property, Barnaby," I said coldly, smile widening. BOOM! The front door cracked wide. Wood splinters flew into the shop. "And my offer's valid as long as that door's still standing. Every second, the price goes up."
Barnaby stared at the nearly-breached door. One hinge came loose. A large green Orc hand pushed through the gap, groping for the door handle.
"OKAY! OKAY! TAKE IT!" Barnaby threw three heavy pouches at me desperately. "Three thousand Gold! Give me those damn boxes!"
I caught the pouches one-handed. Heavy. The jingling sound was music.
With theatrical flair, I emptied my dimensional pouch's contents. Hundreds of small black boxes with red ribbons tumbled out in a pile on the shop floor, covering his expensive carpet.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Barnaby," I said, backing toward the rear warehouse. "Professional tip: Throw those boxes at the crowd like feeding koi fish. It'll distract them. Humans are easily distracted by gambling."
"GET OUT, YOU DEMON!" Barnaby screamed, frantically gathering the boxes.
Miri and I slipped out the back door just as Barnaby cracked open the front door slightly and started hurling the 'Gacha' boxes at the crowd.
"HERE! THIS IS THE DISCOUNT! SPECIAL MYSTERY BOXES!" Barnaby yelled, voice cracking. "DON'T DESTROY MY SHOP!"
The mob stopped rioting. Their gambling instinct took over instantly. They started fighting over the trash boxes, forgetting their original desire to burn the place down. Angry shouts turned into curious exclamations.
We ran through dark alleys, away from the chaos, melting into the night shadows.
"Boss," Miri said from my shoulder, licking firefly jam residue from her claws. "What's actually in those boxes?"
"Variety," I answered, patting the coin pouches at my waist. "Mosquito Summon cards, Hair Growth Potions with side effects that turn your hair neon green, and regular river stones I labeled 'Lucky Charm' with permanent marker."
"Evil," Miri giggled. "I like it."
"It's not evil, Miri. It's wealth redistribution. Barnaby gets his life, the masses get entertainment, and we get rent money."
We reached an empty main street three blocks from the Golden Chalice. The crowd noise was just a faint murmur now. I stopped under a flickering streetlamp, breath still slightly elevated.
I opened the coin pouches.
Today's total haul: 3,080 Gold (including Gareth's 80).
Inspectorate fine: 5,000 Gold.
Shortfall: 1,920 Gold.
My smile slowly faded. The brief victory euphoria receded, replaced by cold mathematical reality. Still short. Almost half. And the deadline was 60 hours away.
"Still not enough, huh?" Miri asked, reading my expression.
"Yeah. Barnaby's a big fish, but I can't milk him twice in one week. He's stupid, but not that stupid. And if I use Mass Hysteria again, the City Guard will start calling in Magic Inquisitors."
Suddenly, a system notification appeared in front of me.
But this one was different.
Usually, system boxes were neutral transparent blue. This time, the color was static gray, flickering like a broken TV screen. No cheerful 'Ting!' sound. Just a low buzzing that made my teeth ache.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
[Anomaly Detected: Unregistered Loophole Exploitation]
[Source: User RAX]
[Impact: Local Economy Deviation > 0.4%]
My heart stopped for a moment. Shit. Did the Admins notice? Was this the end of the Glitch Shop?
The text blinked, then changed. The wording was no longer formal, but felt... personal.
[MESSAGE FROM NODE #7 (OBSERVER)]
"Crude methods, User Rax. But effective. The System usually deletes anomalies, but this anomaly... generates interesting variant data."
I frowned, taking a step back. This wasn't an automated bot. There was someone—or something—on the other side.
[PROPOSAL GENERATED]
[User Status: "Under Observation"]
[Quest Opportunity: The Royal Headache]
[Details: The Kingdom is hosting a closed auction for a "Black Dragon Egg" tomorrow night. Prince Eldric will attend. His presence disrupts data balance in that sector.]
[Objective: Sabotage the auction. Ensure the Prince does not obtain the egg. Methods unrestricted.]
[Incentive: 2,000 Gold Coins + Temporary removal of "Trade Restriction" flag]
I stared at the screen for a long time.
2,000 Gold. The number was too perfect. It covered the remaining fine down to the last coin. Plus removal of my blacklist status?
This wasn't a gift. This was a bribe. And worse, a trap. Node #7 knew my exact problem, and was using my desperation to do his dirty work.
The target was Prince Eldric. Crown prince candidate, notoriously arrogant, spoiled, surrounded by Level 80+ guards. Disrupting a royal auction was the fastest way to get a one-way ticket to the dungeon—or the grave.
"Boss?" Miri tugged my ear, worried as she saw me frozen. "Why's your face pale? Ghost? Or new bill?"
"Worse," I muttered, the Deception Backflow completely gone now, replaced by chilling cold calculation. "Job offer from... upper management. High risk, high reward."
"We taking it?"
I looked toward the palace looming in the distance, its towers piercing the night sky, looking arrogant and untouchable. Then I felt the weight of the coin pouches at my waist—not heavy enough yet.
There was only one way out of this hole. And the way was to dig deeper.
"Of course we're taking it," I said, crooked smile returning to my face, though this time it didn't reach my eyes. "Pack your best outfit, Miri. Tomorrow night we're going to a rich people's party. And we're not invited."
I pressed the [ACCEPT] button.
The screen blinked once more before vanishing, leaving one small line of text in the corner of my vision that lingered a few seconds longer.
[Note: Do not disappoint. Observation is ongoing.]
I swallowed, feeling cold creeping up the back of my neck.
"Gods are loud," I whispered to the increasingly cold night wind. "But the Admins? Admins are silent bastards who watch everything."