Pete The Butcher
Now Harry understood why the system called him an honest man.
It was just a simple act—a bottle of water, a willingness to listen. A small gesture of kindness, and that ominous feeling, the bone-chilling sense of danger that had clung to him, began to dissipate on its own.
Harry had only wanted to see if he could avoid the danger that had been gnawing at him. He had prepared several things to say, but now it felt unnecessary.
As he continued talking to Pete, listening sincerely, he found his own heart settling as well. No other thoughts crossed his mind; he just wanted to listen, really listen.
Pete spoke about his elderly parents being hospitalized, his child being ill, and his wife having to stay behind to take care of everyone. The whole family was relying on him as the only breadwinner.
He had heard about a small job—200 yuan a day, with meals and lodging provided. If the work finished early, there would even be a 30% bonus for each person. It seemed like a good opportunity, so he went for it.
But after finishing the job, not only did the boss withhold the promised bonus, but even the regular wages were unpaid.
Pete had borrowed money from relatives and was now completely out of options. A coworker had told him the boss lived in the Doner Community in Serene City, so he believed it and came all the way here, staking out the place for two days before finally spotting the boss.
As Pete explained his story, Vin, who had been standing nearby, couldn't help but sneer.
"That scumbag doesn't look like someone who can't spare a few thousand yuan. He's just refusing to pay up, taking advantage of an honest man."
When Harry heard that Pete had been waiting there for two days, he stood up and glanced at the noodle shop next door.
"How about this, brother? I've just finished a long shift, and I'm starving. Come join me for some noodles, and we'll chat more. I know some people who might be able to help you get your wages back."
Pete was stunned, not knowing how to respond. He glanced at the noodle shop and instinctively reached into his pockets, calculating whether he could afford a bowl of noodles.
"I don't want to impose. You go ahead and eat," he mumbled.
Harry looked at the server. "Let's get another order of noodles, large, please."
Seeing Pete awkwardly reaching for his wallet, Harry quickly stood up, grabbed three bottles of soy milk from the fridge, and paid for everything at the counter.
The three of them sat down to eat. Vin remained silent, listening as they chatted. He realized now that Harry truly seemed to be helping out of the goodness of his heart.
Vin couldn't help but marvel inwardly, 'Ah, the spirit of youth. If it were me, I would have been more cautious, suspecting that things might not be as simple as they seemed.'
They each finished their bowls, the taste hardly worth mentioning, but at least they were full.
Pete finished telling his story, explaining the events and the situation in detail.
"Brother, let's exchange QQ," Harry suggested.
"I don't have the app…" Pete pulled out an old brick phone, the kind that only made calls and sent texts, but had a battery life of several days.
Harry exchanged phone numbers with him, then headed over to the nearby ATM and withdrew five thousand yuan. He still had a few thousand left in his account—enough to get him through until his next paycheck.
He folded the money into his wallet and stuffed it into Pete's hands. Seeing the man about to refuse, Harry cut him off quickly.
"Consider it a loan, brother. Take it and head back to your family. I'll help you get your wages, and when I do, you can pay me back. Don't refuse it—your family's health comes first. Pay me back when you can."
Pete's eyes reddened as he thought back to the despair and confusion he'd felt earlier, and to his family waiting for him in the hospital. He wanted to refuse, but the words stuck in his throat.
"I... I'll pay you back, I swear. Maybe you should come with me, and I'll show you my situation…"
"No need, brother. I trust you. Go take care of your family first. You've already been out here for two days. I'll get in touch with someone in the next couple of days, and we'll get your money back."
With tears in his eyes, Pete boarded a bus, waving goodbye to Harry.
As soon as Pete was out of sight, Vin, who had been holding back for a while, finally spoke up.
"I mean, I believe his story too, but aren't you worried he might just take off? You handed him cash, no transfer record or anything."
"Ha! If I'd suggested a transfer, would he have taken it? Besides, that guy's too honest. If he ends up cheating me out of this money, I'll just consider it a lesson learned."
Harry was in an exceptionally good mood.
While they were eating noodles, the ominous sense of danger that had been pressing on him vanished completely. Even the bloody, sinister aura he had seen surrounding Pete had faded, restoring the man's normal appearance.
Now Harry was sure—it wasn't that he couldn't develop a Nemesis ability to deal with Pete. It was simply unnecessary.
After lending the man the money, Harry had no ulterior motives. He genuinely just wanted to help.
And he was certain that once Pete had the money, he'd come back to repay him. Harry wouldn't even have to ask.
"You should get some rest. You look exhausted. Your eyes are bloodshot," Vin pointed out.
Harry yawned as if on cue, the exhaustion washing over him the moment he heard the suggestion. After eating, he felt even sleepier.
"Yeah, I'll head home and get some sleep. I'll catch up with you later."
———
Back at home, Harry took a quick shower and collapsed into bed, falling into a deep sleep that lasted well into the night.
At around 10 p.m., an advertisement billboard across from Harry's apartment complex flickered.
The eyes of the model on the billboard turned slightly, gazing in the direction of Harry's building.
By midnight, the streets were nearly deserted, save for the occasional passing car.
The entity that had previously appeared at the bus stop, now in the form of the billboard model, slowly emerged from the sign.
It had been waiting for Harry for several days, but ever since that night, Harry hadn't returned home.
Now, it stood on the side of the road, extending its hand and counting the numbers on the buildings across the street.
"One… two…"
———
At End City Second Hospital, in the neurology ward, Pete sat slumped in a chair, fast asleep, exhaustion etched across his face.
Outside, on the empty road, a blood-soaked figure with a twisted, feral expression—Pete the Butcher—manifested from the ground. Whistling a tune, he retraced Pete's route from earlier that day.
No one on the street saw him. The security cameras captured nothing.
His pace quickened, and after hitching a ride, he arrived in Decheng within two hours. He continued walking along the road, making his way toward Doner Community.
———
"Six… seven… ah, here it is. Building 8, Unit 1, Apartment 502."
The billboard model's eyes gleamed as it pinpointed its target. It stepped off the sidewalk, preparing to cross the street toward the apartment complex.
But just as it reached the curb, it froze. A whistle echoed faintly in its ears, followed by a creeping sense of dread that sent shivers down its spine.
The model turned its head and saw a figure—drenched in blood from head to toe—striding down the center of the road, whistling a jaunty tune.
The model hesitated, then stepped back onto the sidewalk, signaling its retreat.
It watched as Pete the Butcher approached, his steps light and casual. When Pete passed the model, he stopped.
Pete glanced at the model, then followed its gaze toward the building it had been watching. He could sense it—Harry was in there. And this entity, the one that had crawled out of the billboard, harbored great malice toward him.
And Harry had helped him earlier that day.
A twisted smile spread across Pete's grotesque face, and the whistling stopped abruptly.
"Well then, let's warm up a bit."
Pete's figure blurred, vanishing in an instant.
The next moment, he appeared behind the model, a bloodstained rope looped around its neck. The model struggled to react, but before it could fight back, the rope tightened, cutting off any chance of escape.
"ough... Cough....Argh..."
Pete dragged the model across the street like a rag doll, hauling it toward a nearby streetlight.
The model's form flickered and shifted, becoming a shadowy figure. But no matter how it changed, it couldn't escape the grip of the blood-soaked rope.
Pete looped the rope around the streetlight, securing it tightly.
In the next instant, the shadowy figure took on a more human form, its neck bound by the rope as it hung from the streetlight, its body dangling helplessly.
Pete descended from the streetlight, whistling again as he strolled into the distance.
Behind him, the shadow from the streetlight struggled desperately, its form twisting and writhing. But as the seconds passed, its movements grew weaker and weaker. Eventually, the shadow's head lolled to the side, and its body went limp, completely drained of any strength.
Pete the Butcher gave one last glance over his shoulder before walking off into the night, the sound of his whistle fading into the distance.
The streetlight flickered a few times before returning to normal. Hanging from it was the limp shadow of what had once been a powerful entity, now reduced to nothing more than a helpless wisp in the night.