IGTL Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – I Got Mugged by High Schoolers (2)

“Hey, hey! Some grown man you are! Gettin’ mugged by high schoolers and you’re talking about filing a police report? Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Hah?”

What was this punk even saying?

We were talking about 180 million yen here. Sure, I had already stored those top-prize scratch tickets in Item Storage, but I still had 111,300 yen worth in my hand.

And I was supposed to feel ashamed about not letting them rob me?

Not in the slightest.

Because what they were doing was a crime.

That was extortion, plain and simple.

If anything, they should have felt ashamed for mugging a grown man.

High schoolers were at the peak of physical strength.

There was no way a twenty-three-year-old adult like me could beat a pack of beefy teenagers.

Don’t underestimate a guy who lived on alcohol, antacids, and calorie blockers.

I was already falling apart.

Stress and booze had my stomach in perpetual revolt.

Just when a life-changing windfall finally came my way, and this? A shakedown? Give me a break.

Not that I said any of that out loud.

“I’m dead serious. If you still want it, come and get it.”

The moment I said it, the high schoolers who had been after my scratch tickets burst out laughing.

“Pathetic.”

“And you call yourself a working adult?”

“Listen, old man. Hand over the tickets and you won’t get hurt. You’re scared, right? Then cough them up.”

“Know who you’re dealing with?”

“Do you even get your situation, moron? Just give us the scratch tickets.”

They were obsessed with my tickets.

But did they get it?

I had nothing to lose. A twenty-three-year-old unemployed man.

…No, that wasn’t true. I did have things to lose.

My DW save data. And my apartment.

If I lost those now, I might actually go feral.

Anyway, that’s a different topic.

“…Have you thought at all about your future?”

Wagering your whole life to rob tickets worth barely over a hundred thousand yen was Kaiji-tier reckless.

Was that really how they wanted their lives to go?

Because I would do what I said I would do.

“Hah? What’d you say?”

“Are you looking down on us?”

“You’ve got some nerve, bum. I don’t need life advice from the unemployed.”

“Wh-What!?”

How did they know I was unemployed?

Of everything they said, that jab hurt the most.

“None of your business! And you, security guard! A decent citizen is about to get mugged by a bunch of high schoolers right here! Are you going to pretend you don’t see this?”

I hurled the cry of my soul at the guard posted by AEON’s bike lot.

He quietly averted his gaze.

“Wow. A grown man asking for help with a couple of teens. Hilarious.”

“Scared of high schoolers, huh? C’mon!”

“Pathetic.”

“If you don’t want to get hurt, hand over the scratch tickets already.”

“Do it and we’ll buy you one Umaibo stick, how’s that?”

So they wanted to throw their futures away.

Did they really think I wouldn’t file a police report?

I would.

I had nothing to lose.

Unlike them, who still had a future.

“Tch… If you brats are willing to commit a crime to snatch my scratch tickets, then come on! I’ll resist with everything I’ve got! That’s self-defense! And I’ve memorized your faces! I will press charges!”

“““Bring it on!”””

That cue kicked off a brief but violent skirmish over the scratch tickets.

“G—gh… futile…”

It ended in an instant.

Damn it! Using a bicycle pump as a weapon? How dirty.

Like I could beat five high schoolers.

I had been scraping by on trimmed sleep and food since I started working.

Don’t lump me in with kids still on their parents’ insurance.

“We’re taking this, old man!”

“Thanks for the donation!”

“Next time we meet, we’ll buy you one Umaibo stick, old man!”

“We’re taking your wallet too, old man!”

“Stay strong, old man!”

“I—I’m not an old man. I’m a twenty-three-year-old big brother…”

Even children’s TV hosts were still “big brothers” in their forties.

By that standard, I qualified.

They stole my scratch tickets and my wallet and left me in a heap.

I tried to posture, but I couldn’t move.

A security guard finally approached my battered self.

“You all right? In times like that, you should ask for help from people around you.”

You’re the last person I want to hear that from.

I did ask. At you.

Not that I had the guts to say it.

“…You’re right. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Muttering that, I used a fallen branch as a cane, stood up, and headed—not home—but to the hospital.

I needed a medical certificate.

Even with visible injuries, without a doctor’s written diagnosis, the case might only get treated as assault.

For investigators to pursue it as battery causing injury, they needed a document specifying injury type and extent, like “multiple contusions; approximately two weeks to heal.”

After the exam, I received the certificate and smirked.

“Heh… heh heh… according to plan.”

Keeping it subtle, I pulled the scratch tickets out of Item Storage.

“Idiots. You’re finished. And the tickets you stole from me were only worth 111,300 yen. The 180 million yen scratch tickets are mine.”

I looked down, and felt something off.

“H-Huh?”

Something was wrong.

Staring at the tickets in hand, I realized one of the supposed thirty-million-yen winning tickets had four hearts and five others (a 300-yen ticket) mixed in.

“!???”

I checked in a panic and found there were only five thirty-million-yen winning tickets left.

Shock hit, and I screamed.

“You little punks!”

They had managed to lift one of my top-prize tickets.

Unforgivable.

I stored the remaining five thirty-million-yen winning tickets in Item Storage and pulled out a Basic Recovery Potion.

“Just as I thought… it’s DW’s Basic Recovery Potion.”

I downed it in one go, and my pain receded.

For some reason, DW items worked in reality now.

Which left only one course of action.

“I’m taking back that thirty-million-yen scratch ticket.”

Good thing bank hours had passed.

They couldn’t cash it today. I could pursue revenge without worrying.

“…And I need to get my ID back too.”

My wallet contained my employee ID from Amazing Corporation.

My driver’s license and health card were at home.

Thank goodness for that.

My phone chimed, the Opening tone.

The caller ID said the company. Reluctantly, I answered.

Director Ishida came on the line.

“Ah, Takahashi? Ishida. I’ve heard the story.”

“Huh? What story?”

The mugging?

“I hear you used violence against high schoolers. And trying to seize a thirty-million-yen scratch ticket from them? That’s unacceptable. I’ve reported you. Atone for your crimes. Also, we’re classifying your departure as termination for cause, so there will be no severance. That’s all.” Click.

“W-Wait, Director Ishida! Director!?”

The call cut. I slumped, then squeezed the phone, careful not to break it, and hissed:

“Very well. Then it’s war.”

So be it.

A declaration of war. Even if the opponent was a bunch of teens, I would not forgive them.

War.

An all-out, single-minded war.

I hurried home, still fuming. The police hadn’t arrived yet.

That incompetent “Director of Administration” said he had reported me; the cops would come for questioning.

I needed to prepare.

I cabled my headgear to the PC, edited the internal video logs, and posted them across multiple social platforms.

Then I drew the Mob-Fenrir Suit from Item Storage, ran a function check, and stored it again.

For whatever reason, Item Storage really worked.

And DW gear worked too. My victory was assured.

“Oh, right.”

I also needed to teach Director Ishida, who took a teenager’s word at face value, fired me for cause, and denied me severance, exactly whom he had made an enemy of.

I printed the last five years of timecards I had saved monthly as PDFs, my employment terms, and a compiled Excel sheet of unpaid overtime. All of it went into Item Storage.

“Preparation complete. Now to wait for the police.”

Heh. The thieves who snatched a thirty-million-yen scratch ticket from me.

Being minors didn’t make them immune.

I spared no one.

No coddling, no discrimination.

Adult or child, I would crush them equally.

Ding-dong.

The door chime rang.

It looked like the police had come to hear my side.

Inside, I grinned.

Everything was ready.

“Coming.”

I intentionally didn’t change clothes, still in the torn, blood-smeared outfit from the beating, as I opened the door.

Maybe healing the injuries had been a mistake.

No matter; the stains remained. This would do.

All right, you thieves who stole my thirty-million-yen scratch ticket.

From here on, I will show you hell.

Tonight would be your last peaceful sleep.

I’d grant you one indulgence: tuck that stolen ticket under your pillow and dream of cashing it in tomorrow.