Neurolink System in the Modern World

75  Parasites of Society

As we were being checked one by one, I found it surprisingly easy to deceive the person conducting the inquiry. I showed my fake ID and answered a few random questions, but thanks to my skill, I managed to manipulate the conversation effortlessly. It helped that my fabricated information wasn't too far-fetched; saying I lived in this area and used to attend school here didn't raise any eyebrows. Lies flowed smoothly from my lips because of my skills, leaving the investigator none the wiser. Honestly, I didn't care if they eventually discovered my identity was fake. My plan was never to stick around with these low life gangsters for long. My goal was to divert their attention from that dead bastard and plant seeds of doubt within their ranks, all in an effort to pave my way out of this situation. As I schemed on how to fit in seamlessly, out of the blue, a senior thug strolled up to me. This twist of fate was like a gift from the heavens, making my infiltration plan smoother than expected.

The senior thug had a face that looked like it had tangled with a lion – scars galore, hinting at a lifetime of illicit adventures. He gave me the once-over, as if trying to gauge whether I had what it took to be part of their merry band.

The grizzled gangster, was sporting a rather paradoxical look. He had on a flowery shirt, of all things, but it clung to his huge frame, revealing an array of tattoos adorning his back. And, wouldn't you know it, those tattoos depicted none other than flowers – a garden on his skin.

These gangsters have an obsession for floral themes; perhaps they should consider opening a flower shop as their front for the gang's base of operations. The "Gardeners " – now there's a gangster name! "Hey there, newbie," he grumbled, "Word is you've got some fancy moves with those fists of yours."

"I just got lucky. What can I do for you, senior?" I replied, pretending to be humble.

"I heard you're good, and Mr. OBO," he emphasized the name, referring to the bald man from earlier, "told us to show you around. We need your help with something important."

"Sure," I replied, maintaining my facade as the inexperienced newbie. If the task was manageable, I was not going to reject it.

"Good, my useless cousin has been missing for a day because of some woman. He's probably still having a good time, so today, you'll take his place. We're going to collect protection money," he explained.

'Cousin? Woman? Missing?' I couldn't help but wonder if he was talking about that dead bastard. "What's your cousin's name?" I inquired.

"You're asking a lot of questions, newbie," He sneered at my question. "Oh, my apologies," I said, putting on an act as if I had made a mistake. But deep down, I couldn't help but curse him silently. "I need to increase Mind Eye," I muttered to myself. I needed to raise the level of my "mind eye" to see through higher levels. [Mind Eye Leve 2 ] —> [Mind Eye Level 3] [ 8 levels]

Then, I use my skill to check his stats.

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Name: Dang Bak

Age: 35

Level (15)

Overall Stats :19.5 n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Strength: 8

Agility: 3

Stamina: 4

Endurance: 3

Intelligence: 0.5

Charisma: 1

Status : Neutral Suggestion Chance :20% +10%

==========

'Dang Bak!' a smile formed on my face as I read the name. Alyssa's dead lover's name is Dang Chul, so the chances that he's talking about the same person are really high. "Let's go, newbie," he signaled, gesturing for me to follow. — —

We made our way to the first store we needed to extort. It was a small convenience store nestled in the far side of this commercial area. Dang Bak leading the way, pushed open the glass door and entered with a menacing look.

The store's owner, a middle-aged man with greying hair, looked up in surprise. His face immediately paled when he saw the group of gangsters barging into his shop. I couldn't blame the owner; for him, these gangsters were like parasites invading his peaceful store.

"What's going on here?" he stammered, trying to maintain his composure.

"Your monthly protection fee," Dang Bak replied with a cold smile. "You know the drill."

The store owner's shoulders slumped in defeat, and he nodded. He quickly went to fetch a small envelope containing money from under the counter and handed it over to the thug.

"Good choice," Dang Bak said, pocketing the envelope. "We'll be back next month."

"Please, I beg you," he pleaded. "My granddaughter is in the hospital, and I'm struggling to cover her medical bills. Could you consider letting me skip payment for the next month?" He frowned, seemingly unswayed by the plea. "We have our rules, old man. Everyone pays, no exceptions." "But…" the old man tried to protest.

Dang Bak interrupted him."

"If we make an exception for you, other stores will want the same treatment. We have to stick to our rules."

"Let's go, newbie," Dang Bak said, turning around. We all followed suit.

As we moved from one shop to another, I engaged in a conversation with one of the senior thugs.

"So, how does this protection money thing work?" I asked, trying to sound like an eager newcomer.

He chuckled, "Well, newbie, it's simple. We go to these shops and tell them that they need to pay us a fee to keep their business safe. If they don't pay up, we make sure some 'accidents' start happening around here, and then they realize they need our protection."

I raised an eyebrow, feigning curiosity, "Accidents?"

"Yeah," he continued, "you know, stuff like broken windows, damaged merchandise, or maybe even a fire. Nothing too serious, just enough to make them realize they need us."

I nodded, trying to hide my disgust. It was a little bit unsettling to think about how these gangsters operated.

"And what if they refuse to pay?" I inquired.

"That's when things get interesting," he said with a sly grin. "We start with intimidation, maybe roughing up a few of their employees, sometimes their son's or daughters. If they still resist, well, we can get even more creative."

I pretended to be fascinated by his explanation, but in reality, I was growing more happy by the minute. These thugs had no qualms about terrorizing innocent people for their own gain so they can't blame me for bathing one of their good for nothing member in Hydrofluoric acid. "You reap what you sow," I whispered to myself, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction as I followed the gangsters to the next store.