When Tristan finished playing, the bar patrons applauded him much more loudly than to Valerian.
Tristan stood up from his seat, at the same time glancing in the corner of his eye, where his notifications were floating.
[You had impressed an audience of 16 people with your performance. Reward: your CP increased by 70.]
'Not bad. And this was just one song in one evening…'
"Mr. Pierce, is this the new pianist? He's much better than the last one we had!" a bar patron called out.
"Yeah, that guy didn't know a single good song, unlike this one!"
Tristan turned to the patrons and bowed slightly, smiling as he did. The cheeky attitude he showed earned him more grins. Many of them were patronizing, especially from the older patrons, but all were friendly to a greater or lesser extent.
Valerian looked like someone slapped him in the face.
"A good song? This—This wasn't even a song for a piano! Who the hell plays rock songs on a piano?"
No one listened to his protests, though.
Pierce fixed his glasses, looking between the two candidates.
"Well, it's clear whom people like more. I suppose this should suffice. Mr. Valerian, you may go now. Mr. Gemello, return with me to the office to sing the contract."
Tristan smiled at Pierce gratefully and nodded his head.
"Thank you, Mr. Pierce."
Tristan then nodded in goodbye to Valerian, who huffed in response.
This only made Tristan smile wider. This job was basically in his pocket… he won.
"I wouldn't work somewhere where people have no taste, anyway!" Valerian said, marching out of the bar.
A sore loser. Tristan was going to forget all about his existence in an hour, that was how insignificant the man was.
Ten minutes later, Tristan read the contract Pierce gave him. He didn't have experience with job contracts, so he read carefully, wary of pitfalls.
However, there didn't seem to be any. His salary, possible bonuses and responsibilities were all written out neatly.
Tristan will be able to gather tips from patrons, and he will be in charge of picking his songs, as long as they didn't disturb anyone. He only had to be in the bar five days a week, late evenings—four hours a shift. The weekends were all his. The salary was paid weekly, so Tristan didn't have to wait long for his first one.
As bonuses, Tristan got an employee sale in the bar, but this was all.
Tristan put on his signature on the contract, at the last moment remembering to change it slightly from the one he was used to. He was Tristan Gemello right now, after all.
[Ding!]
[Your Pop-star rank has changed from Nobody to Opened The Door! Reward: your CP increased by 1000!]
Tristan suppressed a gasp of shock. 1000 CP at once? Wow, just wow.
Landing a job had benefits beyond, well, having a job!
'Does this mean that I will get a similar rank increase from getting a job in a criminal career? Perhaps joining a gang? Are there other benefits in increasing my rank besides getting points?'
"Your next working shift will start next Monday at 21:00. Don't be late."
Tristan stood up and nodded.
"Yes, Mr. Pierce. Goodbye, and have a good evening."
He had Friday and all weekends before his first shift. Perhaps it was the time for him to advance his criminal career too.
However, this was much less straightforward than replying to a job application.
Tristan needed a plan.
***
Next evening.
Tristan Hayes walked down the streets of the worst neighborhood there was. The kind of neighborhood where you could hear gunshots every night.
His slightly slouched posture didn't attract the attention of people here. And these people already were used to minding their business.
However, Tristan didn't miss a single detail about what was going around here.
He noticed a man subtly passing a crumpled cigarette box to another (which clearly had anything BUT cigarettes), a girl flaunting her skin on the corner, and a guy sitting on a sidewalk, staring into space in a drug-induced stupor.
This was a place where crime went rampant. But even here, there was lesser crime, the kind people were well-used to, the unavoidable kind; and the crime that made even these people wince.
A distant scream made Tristan perk up like a bloodhound. This was just what his plan needed.
He ran in its direction, ignoring the glances from the passersby. After a few turns, Tristan emerged at an entrance to a dank alleyway.
A balding, middle-aged man was pressing a young woman into the wall with his entire body, silencing her further cries of help with a hand on her mouth. His other hand was forcefully groping the woman's body, pushing itself under her clothes.
An absolutely disgusting scene, despite being quite common. Tristan's eyes noticed that the woman wore garish make-up and clothes that were too bright and open than was common.
She was most likely another street whore, and many people would've considered that she should be alright with what she was getting.
Tristan still thought it was disgusting.
This wasn't why he was there, but this was the truth.
Without a word, he ran up to the balding man and punched him in the ear.
With a gasp of shock, the man stumbled back, but Tristan didn't let him recover.
He continued punching and kicking to the jaw, solar plexus, stomach, groin. After the second punch, the man collapsed to the ground, but Tristan didn't stop until he was a crying, groaning mess.
Then he stomped on the man's ankle until he heard a crunch—just for good measure.
"That's what assholes like you will get," Tristan said, and turned to the woman he saved.
She was gasping for the air, staring at Tristan in shock and awe.
[Ding!]
[You have terrified 1 person. Reward: your PP increased by 10.]
[Ding!]
[You have awed 1 person. Reward: your PP increased by 10.]
Tristan sent the woman a reassuring smile. Just to calm her down a little.
"Can you get away from here on your own, miss?"
She stood up and nodded hurriedly. Then the woman took a deep breath and visibly calmed.
"Yes, yes. T-thank you, mister!" The woman smiled suggestively. "How can I thank you for this?"
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
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