It worked, but the process was absurd

There was no time to hesitate.

William sprang into action almost instantly, slipping onto the stairs under cover of the chaotic crowd.

He took off his bow tie, tore away the numbered badge that marked him as a waiter, and slicked his hair back.

Just as his contact had said, the third floor was deserted and unobstructed. William could see the door standing at the far end at a glance.

But just as he was about to reach his destination, a sudden flurry of hurried footsteps sounded in the corridor behind him, mixed with the crackle of radios.

William's mind raced.

First, he rested his hand on the handle of a nearby door.

The door wouldn't open, but that didn't matter.

He only needed to create the impression that he had just stepped out of the room.

A moment later, a squad of black-clad security guards appeared at the end of the corridor.

The corridor was empty. William had nowhere to hide.

Hiding wasn't part of his plan, either.

"Oi!"

He even raised his chin and called out to them first.

"What happened downstairs? I heard an explosion."

The guard in front looked him up and down suspiciously.

"May I ask..."

William pulled back his cuff and glanced at a nonexistent wristwatch.

"Is answering my question really that difficult?"

Maroni's image flashed through his mind, and he did his utmost to imitate the mob boss's quietly intimidating manner.

"A guest's vehicle exploded downstairs. My colleagues found remnants of a mechanical explosive device at the scene. Please return to your room and rest for now."

William's acting was excellent, and he had read their psychology perfectly.

He had almost fooled them.

If anything might give him away, it was probably his overly youthful face.

"One moment, sir!"

Just as he turned away, the guard finally asked the question he had been agonizing over.

"May I see your invitation? Of course, I'm not questioning your identity. It's just that under these exceptional circumstances, I have to verify every guest's identity."

"Please cooperate with us."

At those words, William noticed the black-clad guards all moving their hands to their waists.

An intentional bombing had just taken place at Falcone Manor. Any unusual move on his part would leave a corpse on the carpet.

William took a deep breath, slowly reached into his inside pocket, and pulled out a purple card edged in gold.

It was the item he had received for completing Zsasz's mission: the High-Society Party Invitation.

[Single-use item: This pass grants access to any cocktail party, with VIP treatment.]

That single line of instructions was all it contained. There was no heading or signature.

The thing always reminded William of the crudely drawn money he had made as a child, cramming in as many zeros as would fit and declaring its purchasing power aloud.

Of course, that sort of "money" could only circulate among friends.

He seriously doubted whether this "invitation" actually worked, but if he didn't take the gamble, they would turn him into Swiss cheese.

William straightened his back as much as possible, discreetly watching the guard's expression.

The black-clad guard's brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

That wasn't a good sign.

William's eyes darted around his surroundings.

There was a Thai-style vase not far from him. He could probably knock one of them out if he hefted it.

But there were seven or eight of the fuckers here.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. William Hans. I hope you enjoy your evening at the manor."

After nearly ten seconds of silence, the man's response let William breathe a sigh of relief.

It was also his first real taste of the system's power.

The quest item it had given him actually operated on rules.

For instance, the guard in front of him was now respectfully presenting a nonexistent invitation with both hands-it was a single-use item that disappeared once shown.

William had no choice but to steel himself and accept the empty air.

Just like that, the crisis quietly dissolved through an utterly absurd solution.

Even after the guards turned and left, William still couldn't believe his eyes.

But a new problem soon confronted him.

Falcone's Office was locked.

According to the plan, this room should have been open.

At a loss, William stood outside the door and scratched his head.

As though they had heard their distinguished guest grumbling, several guards returned.

"How may we help you?"

"Are you... really sure you shouldn't be downstairs keeping order?"

Being surrounded by a group of big, burly white men was still rather intimidating.

"Of course we should, but resolving Mr. William Hans's difficulties is our highest priority at present."

William blinked in bewilderment, beginning to suspect the reason.

This was probably the "VIP treatment" mentioned in the latter half of the invitation's description.

"You there, could you take your pants off?" To test just how absurd an order these men would follow, William pointed at a random bearded guard.

"Sir, such behavior is an insult to my dignity!"

Looks like I got carried away!

"But for Mr. William Hans, I will gladly do my duty!"

One second, the man had looked like a gay guy recoiling in disgust. The next, he loyally straightened his back and began undoing his belt with almost reckless determination.

"That's enough! Enough!"

At the sight of those hairy legs and the pink strawberry-print underwear hugging them, William hurriedly waved for him to stop.

This wasn't a party invitation. It was a brainwashing machine.

He seriously questioned what the system had intended by giving him this invitation. Did it want him to turn the party into an orgy?

Three guards braced themselves and charged, smashing open the door to Falcone's Office.

Unexpectedly, an old man sat by the fireplace with a pipe between his teeth.

A flicker of panic crossed the old man's eyes as the sturdy door burst open.

But it lasted only a moment.

"What do you think you're doing?" He took a deep breath, his thickly accented Italian English emerging indistinctly from deep in his throat.

"Esteemed Mr. Carmine Falcone, our distinguished guest William Hans wishes to tour your office."

"Ridiculous. That's your reason for mutiny?" The old man removed his pipe, pulled a slender foil from the wall, and assumed a fencing stance.

Things had now spiraled out of control. Falcone was the man they had sworn allegiance to, while William was a distinguished guest they absolutely could not offend.

The conflicting commands turned the guards into robots frozen blankly in place.

"Leave us for now. Your distinguished guest has business to discuss with the esteemed Mr. Falcone."

Afraid the guards might break free of his control, William issued the order while his instructions still worked.

This was also exactly what Falcone wanted.

"What is this trick? A brainwashing device? It seems you've done something to my men, but now I'll show you through action that your choice was born of youthful arrogance."

Falcone held his foil upright and challenged William to a duel.

One minute later, William had the panting old man pinned beneath him, his arms bound behind his back.

"You're not much good, are you? All that swagger for nothing!"

"Hah... hah! I... I... if I were just... five years younger..."

"Give it a rest. Aren't you worried you'll run out of breath?"

William lightly slapped Falcone twice with the back of his hand, repaying him for the sword thrust that had cut his face.

But that thrust was the only damage the old man had managed to inflict in their brief battle.

Age always lost to youth in a fistfight.

Although things had strayed wildly from the plan, at least he had made it this far.

William's gaze settled on the mechanical safe.