Yuki crouched behind a fruit stand, peeking through a pile of oranges as Marcus stomped through the market, eyes wild like a starving tiger sniffing out prey. Sweat dripped down Yuki's neck—not from fear, but from the absurd realization that he was still running despite having ridiculous, overpowered abilities now.
"Damn it, I need to get out of here before things get ugly," he muttered, scanning the streets for an escape route. "If I get caught, explaining this mess will be a nightmare."
Marcus was getting closer, flanked by his thugs who spread out to block every possible exit.
"Yuki! You can't run forever! Get out here, and I promise I'll only cut off one finger! Hahahaha!" Marcus roared with sadistic laughter.
"One finger my ass," Yuki grumbled under his breath. He tried to slip away quietly, but as he stood up, his elbow smacked into the fruit pile.
WHAM!
Oranges tumbled everywhere like runaway bowling balls. The old fruit seller, a grizzled man with a white beard, spun around, eyes blazing with fury.
"HEY, YOU DAMN BRAT! YOU RUINED MY STALL!" the old man yelled, hurling a rotten orange straight at Yuki's forehead.
SPLAT!
The overripe orange exploded on impact, oozing fermented juice down Yuki's face. Now he smelled even worse.
"Sorry, old man! I'll pay you later!" Yuki shouted as he bolted. Unfortunately, his foot landed on a stray orange peel, and—
WHOOOP—SPLASH!
He went flying straight into the same foul-smelling drainage ditch he'd fallen into that morning. The stench hit him like a truck: a rancid mix of sewage, rotting fish, and the armpit of someone who hadn't bathed in a month.
"AGHHHH! WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE DAMN DRAIN?!" Yuki screamed, struggling to climb out. The slime-coated walls made it nearly impossible, and he slipped deeper into the city's sewer tunnels.
"Boss, I think he went into the drains!" one of Marcus's lackeys reported, pointing at the bubbling, suspiciously noisy gutter.
"Good! He can't run far in there. Block every exit!" Marcus barked, a cruel grin twisting his face.
Down below, Yuki crawled through the darkness, holding his breath. The water rushed around him like a hellish water slide, and the stench seeped into his very soul.
Suddenly, he spotted light ahead. "Finally, an exit!"
But as he popped his head out—
"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
He emerged from a toilet bowl in a public restroom—right in front of a fat old man sitting on the toilet reading a newspaper. The man's eyes bulged like he'd just seen the devil himself.
"WHAT THE—?!"
"Sorry, sir! Total accident!" Yuki shouted, scrambling to climb out. His feet slipped again, and he fell right back into… well, into places that didn't need describing.
"GET OUT! GET OUT OF THERE!" the man screamed, throwing his sandal at Yuki.
Yuki finally managed to crawl out, but now he reeked even worse. He was basically a walking biological hazard.
Before he could escape, Marcus's voice thundered outside the restroom.
"He's gotta be around here! Search every corner!"
Yuki froze. His eyes darted around, desperate for a distraction. Then he spotted it—the fresh, unflushed contents of the fat man's toilet.
"Sorry, sir. Borrowing this," Yuki muttered, grabbing a fistful.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" the man cried in horror.
Yuki didn't answer. He kicked the door open and—
SPLAAAAT!
—smeared the 'weaponized filth' right into Marcus's face as he passed by.
"BLAAARRGGGHH! WHAT IS THIS?! IT STINKS!!!" Marcus gagged, flailing around as his lackeys recoiled in disgust.
"BOSS! YOU OKAY?!"
"NO, I'M NOT OKAY! SOMEONE JUST—BLAAARRGGHH!" Marcus vomited, trying to wipe his face but only spreading the stench further.
Meanwhile, Yuki sprinted away, cackling like a maniac. "HAHAHA! Taste the wrath of karma, Marcus!"
***
Yuki tore through narrow alleys, leapt over rooftops, and even dove into a city fountain to wash off some of the smell. But his luck hadn't improved. One poorly placed rock sent him flying face-first into a pile of rancid trash.
"Perfect landing," he muttered sarcastically, climbing out of banana peels and spoiled leftovers.
This time, there was no escape. Marcus and his thugs surrounded him, faces twisted with rage—though Marcus's was still streaked with remnants of… well, you know.
"FINALLY, I GOT YOU, YOU LITTLE RAT!" Marcus screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Yuki. "Because of you, everyone's pay got cut! They want your head!"
The miners snarled, brandishing pickaxes, clubs, and whatever tools they could grab. Their eyes burned with fury, like debt collectors who'd waited a decade for revenge.
"Uh… guys, we can talk this out, right?" Yuki raised his hands nervously.
"NO TALKING! PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID!" Marcus swung a heavy stick.
WHACK!
"OW! HEY—!" Yuki stumbled back, but Marcus and his crew kept beating on him like a piñata.
"BOSS, maybe that's enough," one of the thugs said, half-heartedly.
"ENOUGH? I'M JUST GETTING STARTED!" Marcus roared, raining down another barrage of blows.
Yuki, bruised and bleeding, finally yelled, "OKAY, OKAY! I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO SCREW YOU OVER!"
"Sorry won't feed my kid!" one thug shouted.
"My wife's sick, and we can't afford medicine!" another added.
"I'm getting evicted!" someone else cried.
The air grew tense with anger. Yuki blinked, realizing the root of all their rage: money.
"Wait, wait, WAIT! You're all mad about money, right?" Yuki said, wincing.
"OF COURSE WE ARE!" Marcus barked.
"What if… I give you more money than Marcus ever paid you?" Yuki smirked.
A stunned silence fell.
Then Marcus burst out laughing. "PFFT—HAHAHAHAHA! YOU? GIVE MONEY? You're dirt-poor! Where the hell would you get it?!"
"Boss, I think he's lost it," one thug snorted.
"Yeah, maybe we beat him too hard!"
They all laughed like hyenas, pointing at Yuki as if this was the best comedy show they'd ever seen.
Unbothered, Yuki picked up a rock. "Wanna see a magic trick?"
"Oh, this I gotta see! Hahahaha!" Marcus wheezed.
Yuki twirled his hand dramatically. "By the power of ABRACADABRA… HOCUS POCUS… SIMSALABIM—"
DING!
The rock turned into pure, gleaming gold.
Laughter stopped dead.
Marcus's jaw dropped. A thug fainted on the spot.
"Wha… wh-what the hell is that?!" Marcus stammered.
"This?" Yuki tossed the gold up and down casually. "Solid 24-karat gold. Wanna see me do it again?"
Before Marcus could answer, Yuki grabbed another rock.
DING!
Another gold bar appeared, heavier than the first.
Marcus backed away, pale as a ghost.
"Believe me now?" Yuki grinned, juggling the gold like it was nothing.
"I… I…" Marcus's eyes darted between the gold and Yuki. "You… you can… make gold?"
"Unlimited," Yuki said coolly. "Still wanna hit me?"
The thugs, now wide-eyed and drooling, whispered among themselves. Their minds were already filled with visions of riches.
"Okay, to make up for my 'escape,'" Yuki said, grabbing a handful of pebbles, "I'll give each of you a gold bar. Fair?"
DING! DING! DING!
One by one, stones turned into shining gold ingots. The thugs clutched them like newborn babies.
"IT'S REAL! IT'S REAL GOLD!" one screamed after biting it.
"I'M RICH! I'M RICH!" another cried, hugging his gold like a lover.
"YUKI IS A GOD!" someone else shouted.
The mob that wanted to kill him a moment ago now bowed in worship.
Marcus, trembling, finally dropped to his knees. "BOSS YUKI! I— I didn't know you were this powerful! Please forgive me! I'll be your loyal servant forever!"
"Wait… boss?" Yuki blinked.
"YES, BOSS! I'M YOUR MAN NOW!" Marcus groveled, forehead to the ground. "LET ME SERVE YOU!"
The others joined in. "BOSS YUKI! LONG LIVE BOSS YUKI!"
Before Yuki knew it, he was hoisted onto their shoulders and paraded through the streets like a conquering hero.
***
Yet, despite the chanting crowd, passersby were unconvinced.
"Who's that hobo they're carrying?"
"Some beggar pretending to be a hero?"
"Poor guy. Probably some weird prank."
Hearing that, Yuki facepalmed. Sure, he was technically a "tycoon" now, but he still looked like a sewage-soaked drifter.
"Alright, guys, put me down," Yuki said.
"But, Boss—"
"No buts. Take your gold, go home, and treat your people well. Stop being jerks."
Marcus nodded furiously. "Yes, Boss! Anything you say, Boss!"
"Good. And don't follow me."
***
Yuki strolled through the city, gold practically spilling out of his pocket, while thinking: In less than an hour, I went from broke to being worshiped. Life is insane.
Then he caught a whiff of himself.
"…But I still smell like death," he muttered.
People gave him weird looks as he passed, especially after he accidentally wiped his filthy hands on someone's coat, sparking a street brawl.
Yuki casually walked away, whistling like nothing happened.
***
Soon, he stopped in front of a grand marble building: ROYAL BANK OF ASTORIA. The place looked like a palace, complete with golden lettering, dragon statues, and guards in gleaming silver armor.
"Perfect. Time to trade this gold for something spendable," Yuki said.
Two armored guards crossed their swords in front of him.
"Stop! What business does a hobo have in this bank?" one guard sneered.
"Yeah, go beg somewhere else!" the other added.
"Actually," Yuki said, pulling out a gold bar, "I'm here to make a deposit."
The guards froze. Their eyes locked on the shining gold.
"T-this is…"
"Real… real gold…"
"Now can I go in?" Yuki smirked.
"WELCOME TO THE ROYAL BANK, HONORED SIR!" they shouted, bowing so low their helmets clinked against the ground.
***
Inside, heads turned. Customers, tellers, even janitors gawked at Yuki's ragged yet gold-stuffed appearance.
He walked up to a teller—a young woman with chestnut hair—and dropped a few bars of gold on the counter.
"I'd like to exchange these for cash," he said.
The teller's eyes bulged. "S-sir, one moment please…" She hit an emergency button.
Moments later, the bank manager—a neatly dressed man named Robert—came rushing over, panting like he'd just run a marathon.
"Honored sir! I'm Robert, the bank's manager. You… you wanted to exchange these?" He carefully inspected the gold. "My god… these are flawless! Pure 24-karat!"
"Cool. How much cash will I get?" Yuki asked.
"Sir, this… this is worth more than a small kingdom," Robert whispered, trembling.
Yuki shrugged. "A kingdom? Nah. I'll just buy your bank instead. How much?"
Robert nearly fainted. "B-buy… the bank?!"
"Yeah. Name your price."
"Uh… fifty million gold coins for the assets… eighty million for full ownership…"
"Done," Yuki said, transmuting more gold on the spot until it formed a literal pile on Robert's desk. "This enough?"
Everyone in the bank fell silent. Robert collapsed to his knees.
"MORE THAN ENOUGH! WELCOME, NEW OWNER OF THE ROYAL BANK OF ASTORIA!"
***
Minutes later, Yuki strolled out of the bank as its new owner, while the staff bowed deeply behind him. The guards who mocked him earlier almost cried as they begged for forgiveness.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Yuki said, waving them off. "Next time, don't judge by appearances."
***
With newfound wealth, Yuki went on a shopping spree:
Gourmet food? Check.
Expensive clothes? Check.
Fancy leather boots and high-end cologne to erase sewer stink? Double check.
He paid everyone way too much for everything.
"This meal is 50 silver coins, sir," a restaurant waiter said.
"Here's 10 gold coins. Keep the change," Yuki replied casually.
"B-but… this is—"
"Just keep it."
He spent like a drunken billionaire with Monopoly money.
By the end of the day, Yuki looked completely different: sleek clothes, clean hair, smelling fresh.
…Yet somehow, the hobo aura still clung to his face.
"Why do I still look like an unemployed bum?" he muttered at his reflection in a shop window.
***
Eventually, he arrived at a lively building with a big sign: Adventurer's Guild. It was packed with rowdy voices, clinking mugs, and a bulletin board full of quests.
"Eh, being a tycoon is great, but being an adventurer sounds fun too," Yuki mused.
As he stepped inside, everyone stared.
"Who's that guy?"
"Some newbie?"
"He looks like a rich hobo trying to cosplay as an adventurer."
Yuki sighed. "Here we go again…"