Privacy, Secrets, and Social Networks

Lance stared, but the more he thought about it, the more something felt wrong.

Images from that improper game from his previous life instantly flashed through his mind.

In that game, the so-called "Codex" feature recorded all kinds of close-up shots after the heroines were defeated, along with detailed statistics on how many times each part of their bodies had been struck.

"Seriously?"

Lance's mouth twitched as he looked at Hakon, who was sprawled on the ground like a dead pig, with horror in his eyes.

If he were forced to watch "defeat close-ups" of this greasy middle-aged man in his mind, it would not just be mental contamination. It would be visual bullying on an entirely different level.

That would tank his sanity points way too hard.

Lance took a deep breath, prepared to shut his eyes the instant anything seemed off, and tremblingly opened the new Codex feature.

As the panel unfolded, no nauseating images appeared.

There was only a half-body sketch of Hakon and dense blocks of text beside it.

"Phew..."

Lance let out a long breath, and his suspended heart finally settled back into place.

Fortunately, this real-world version of the system had still been censored.

The Codex feature actually recorded Hakon's basic information, current condition, specific attributes, and skill levels in detail.

This was also the first time, aside from himself, that Lance could finally see someone else's detailed panel directly.

Name: Hakon

Status: Mild intoxication, unconsciousness, slight concussion

Attributes: Strength 9, Constitution 8...

Looking at the data, Lance secretly felt fortunate.

This drunkard who spent all day soaking in taverns actually had 9 Strength and 8 Constitution, nearly reaching the threshold of a First-Tier Professional.

After all, even after this period of brutal training, Lance's Strength had only just reached 6.

There was a clear gap between them in basic attributes.

If this guy had not been dead drunk, and if Lance had not chosen to strike first and caught him off guard with a sneak attack...

If they had faced each other head-on, it really would have been hard to say who would win.

"Sure enough, even a lion uses all its strength to hunt a rabbit. Sneak attacks are the true way."

Lance silently gave his own tactics a thumbs-up.

However, as he continued reading downward, something that truly surprised him appeared.

The core and most valuable part of this Codex was not those few cold lines of attribute data.

At the bottom of the panel, it had actually recorded the other party's private secrets, along with a complicated social network.

[Hakon's Secrets]

[Secret One: He has been having nightmares every day recently, and his mental state is terrible. The cause is that half a month ago, while burying a teammate who died in an accident, he casually stole the burial dagger from the corpse. Now, every night, he dreams of that teammate standing at his bedside with a face covered in blood, demanding his toothpick back.]

[Secret Two: He once got into a vicious fight with a teammate over the distribution of several copper coins' worth of loot. In truth, it was because he was jealous of that teammate's handsome appearance and the favor he received from the female teammates. He had deliberately used it as an excuse to start trouble.]

[Secret Three...]

After reading those secrets, Lance looked at the swollen face on the ground with an odd expression.

Not only were this guy's hands dirty, his mind was as narrow as the eye of a needle.

"So you came after me purely because you were jealous of how handsome I am?"

Unable to resist, Lance raised his foot and gave Hakon another vicious kick in the ass.

Now it all made sense.

For someone as psychologically twisted as Hakon, the very existence of a "pretty boy" like Lance was an original sin.

Lance shook his head and opened the [Social Network] option.

A massive tree diagram spread out before his eyes.

Hakon's portrait was positioned at the center, with dozens of lines of varying thickness extending around it, connecting unfamiliar names and portraits.

The system's labels were very intuitive.

Green lines represented friendliness; the brighter the line, the better the relationship.

Red lines represented hostility; the darker the color, the greater the hatred.

Amid that web of interwoven red and green, Lance spotted the glowing point that represented himself at once.

A thick reddish line connected it directly to Hakon's portrait.

This meant that, in Hakon's heart, Lance was already an enemy.

"Looks like anyone I defeat gets recorded in this Codex."

Lance pondered this.

That meant that as long as he defeated someone once, they would completely lose all secrets before him.

Whether it was their weaknesses, embarrassing history, or connections behind the scenes, everything would be laid bare.

He just did not know whether the information in the Codex updated automatically in real time, or whether he would need to beat the person up again next time to refresh the data.

But no matter what, this feature was extremely useful. In the future, if anyone he defeated harbored resentment, Lance would notice it.

He could even strike first.

Know yourself and know your enemy, and you will never be defeated.

With this, he would be able to tell at a glance who was human and who was a ghost.

"This time, I really struck gold."

Lance closed the system panel with satisfaction.

Looking at Hakon lying on the ground like a dead dog, he stroked his chin and recalled the secrets he had just seen.

Although he had beaten the man up, the anger in his chest did not seem to have fully subsided.

He crouched down, held his breath, and deftly untied the bulging money pouch from Hakon's waist.

"I'll take this as compensation for my emotional distress."

Lance weighed the pouch in his hand and tucked it into his clothes without the slightest guilt.

After all, leaving a scumbag's money here would only make things easier for passing vagrants or other thieves.

Without lingering at all, he quickly vanished into the alley.

As for whether Hakon would suffocate while lying in urine, or catch a cold from getting chilled, that was not something Lance needed to worry about.

This area was within the constables' patrol route. At most, within half an hour, someone on night patrol would drag him away like a dead pig.

Back in the cramped attic.

Lance locked the door from the inside and eagerly poured the spoils from the money pouch onto the table.

"Clatter, clatter."

The crisp, pleasant sound of metal striking metal echoed through the quiet room.

Looking at the pile of gleaming silver coins on the table, Lance's eyes lit up.

He roughly counted them. There were more than thirty silver coins, along with a large handful of copper coins.

The profit was simply astonishing.

After all, even after working painstakingly as a copyist for an entire month, his net income was only sixteen silver coins.

One blow with a club had earned him two months' wages.

"Robbery is actually this profitable..."

For a moment, the dangerous thought of moonlighting as a masked vigilante at night surfaced in Lance's mind.

But he snuffed it out after only a second.

If you walk by the river often enough, your shoes will eventually get wet.

This world was full of hidden talents. Who knew whether some drunkard was actually a retired powerhouse concealing his strength?

If he kicked an iron plate, he might end up losing his life.

Lance picked up a silver coin and flicked it with his thumb.

The coin spun through the air, then landed steadily back in his palm.

"Lucky day."

This unexpected windfall was enough to support his future high-intensity training expenses for quite some time.

Thinking of Amber's resentful little look when he left today, Lance decided to buy her a proper gift tomorrow to make it up to her.

After all, if he took someone else's money, he should do some good deeds to build up his karma.

After carefully hiding the money, Lance turned his gaze toward the windowsill.

The jars of Blood-Clotting Moss that had been air-dried for several days had now completely lost their moisture and turned into dark brown dried clumps.

Lance skillfully crushed and ground them into fine powder.

As the final step was completed, the system notification arrived as expected.

[You have personally collected, dried, and produced 30 ounces of Blood-Clotting Moss Powder. Research complete.]

Lance immediately summoned the Research panel.

The [Hemostatic Ointment (Improvement in Progress)] quest bar that had previously been hanging there had disappeared.

That left him slightly surprised.

He had expected that, like in a game, it might unlock a new and more advanced recipe blueprint.

But reality was not like that.

This Research quest seemed to be a one-time thing, and it had not altered the recipe for Hemostatic Ointment. It was more like a "permanent enhancement" to Lance's personal skills.

Although he did not know exactly how that enhancement would manifest.

But practice was the sole criterion of truth.

Lance did not dwell on it too much. He would find out by trying.

He dragged a cage out from beneath the bed. Inside was a gray-furred wild rabbit he had caught casually that afternoon.

The poor little thing was trembling, completely unaware that it was about to devote itself to medical science.

Lance set up a simple crucible and lit an alcohol lamp.

Following the steps that were already ingrained in his mind, he poured the moss powder into an oil-based mixture and began stirring slowly.

From time to time, he added several other herbs.

Before long, a jar of dark green ointment with a faint herbal fragrance was ready.

The process was so simple that it could not even generate a skill.

After waiting for the ointment to cool and solidify naturally, Lance took another jar of the most common ordinary Hemostatic Ointment on the market from his backpack.

The experiment began.

He took out the short dagger he had seized from Hakon and skillfully cut two wounds of equal depth on the rabbit's hind leg.

Blood immediately began to pour out.

With swift hands, Lance applied the new ointment he had made to one wound and the store-bought ordinary ointment to the other.

"Let's see the results..."

Lance leaned closer, watching intently.

In just a few seconds, the difference became visible to the naked eye.

The wound treated with ordinary ointment was still oozing blood after half a minute, although the flow had slowed.

As for the wound treated with Lance's special version—

After the same amount of time, the blood that had been pouring out seemed to be locked in place by some invisible force and rapidly coagulated.

A tough dark-red medicinal film completely sealed the wound, and not a single drop of blood seeped out again.