Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Tristan put some cash on the table.

"A shot of whiskey, please."

Whiskey usually wasn't Tristan's drink of choice, but he didn't want to stay at the bar for a long while, drinking some big cocktail. Just a shot for the road.

While the barman took the money and poured Tristan his drink, he mused about his plans.

'Rafael has contacts with people deeper in Cuatro Angulos. I can use him to send them the Beholder…'

A shot glass of whiskey was placed in front of Tristan. He nodded in thanks to the barman, then raised the glass and downed the whiskey in one go.

As soon as the burning liquid touched Tristan's tongue, he knew something was wrong.

Terribly wrong!

The whiskey tasted way too bitter to be normal. Perhaps that taste could've belonged to the worst kind of whiskey, but not to something being sold in a high-end nightclub like the Urban Mirage!

'It must be poison!'

Adrenaline went through Tristan's body and the time slowed down to a crawl. Once again, Tristan was saved by his 'Bullet Time' talent.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

However, by this point, he already half-swallowed the whiskey. The remains that burned on his tongue made Tristan even more sure that his observation was true: someone poisoned his drink.

'I have to spit it out before bullet time ends!'

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On instinct, Tristan clenched muscles in his throat, preventing most of the liquid from going further. But it wasn't enough—ever so slowly, Tristan reached out and clenched his own neck hard.

The time resumed with normal speed and Tristan half-spat, half-vomited all the whiskey he just drank right on the bar counter.

While the nearby waiters and guests gasped in shock, Tristan coughed hard, spitting out as much of the poisoned drink as he could.

His pants and shirt were splattered with liquid now, but he ignored it as he straightened up and caught his breath.

'I think I didn't swallow more than a few drops in the end.'

Despite this, Tristan didn't feel relief. There was a feeling of slight nausea in his stomach instead, and he didn't know if it was from the poison or from the sudden attack.

'I didn't notice a single thing! Whoever did this was a real pro at blending with the crowd—he had to plan this all under my nose. No one was paying me more than a fleeting glance!'

Now that changed, of course. A dozen people were all watching Tristan from all directions.

His thoughts flew rapidly.

'Someone definitely tried to kill me, and I'm in criminal identity right now. So, most likely Angulos people. Did they already find out that I came to talk with Rafael? No, that's impossible! Unless Angulos put one of their people to watch Rafael closely, which is something I'd definitely do…'

"Mister, is everything alright?" a barman asked with concern. "Do you need medical help?"

Tristan's eyes zeroed on him, then flew around.

'Whoever tried to kill me must have been nearby to be able to tamper with the drink. I can still catch them! If they know I came here for Rafael, I can't let them get away. Actually… I can't let them get away even if they don't know! As if I will let someone try to kill me and leave without a punishment!'

The problem was… Tristan had no idea who that assassin was.

A single glance showed seven people who were close enough to the bar. The barman, two waiters, and five guests. All of them looked equally shocked, concerned, or disgusted with what had just happened.

The assassin, whoever it was, had been a superb actor.

But when Tristan's skills weren't enough…

'I just need more skills. Status!'

With extreme agility, Tristan tapped on invisible to anyone but him buttons.

[Ding!]

[Observation skill increased from 1426 to 2076.]

Then Tristan shot to his feet and pointed his finger at the barman.

"My drink was poisoned! You tried to poison me!"

The barman recoiled with wide eyes.

"What? Mister, I didn't—if you think someone spiked your drink, I will call security, but I didn't do it!"

Tristan didn't listen to the man's prattling. Although he was looking at the barman, from the corner of his eye, he was watching people around him with extreme attention.

Judging them down to the last twitch of their muscles, Tristan observed their reaction.

Alarm, shock, even excitement for a juicy scandal—and a flash of relief swiftly hidden under concern.

Tristan looked at the person whose acting skills were the smallest bit too slow and became absolutely sure that this man was the assassin.

First, his uniform, although almost identical white blouse and black pants to that of the other waiters, had slight differences in the cut.

Second, when their eyes met, the man showed fear.

But otherwise, he was someone utterly ordinary. The man's face was so boring, people would forget it a minute after they didn't look at him. A perfect face for a sneaky killer.

Tristan showed him his most murderous grin and his deadliest glare.

"It's you."

The assassin was too far to hear Tristan's quiet words through the din of the club, but he understood.

The man paled and slipped away from Tristan, moving through the crowd as fast as he could without attracting attention.

"Forget it!" Tristan shouted to the barman and hurried after the assassin before he lost him in the crowd.

The fake waiter did his best to blend in, but Tristan stayed locked on to his white blouse.

Then the assassin suddenly pushed an actual waiter with a full tray into a group of tipsy people that stood in Tristan's way. People immediately began screaming at each other and the waiter and a bouncer hurried toward them to stop a fight from starting.

While Tristan looked for a way around the commotion, the assassin disappeared, this time entirely.

However, Tristan didn't lose his spirits and didn't stop walking.

Instead, he smiled like a cat who knows the mouse can't escape.

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