Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Next day.

It was almost like yesterday evening never happened.

Tristan was standing in a rented practice room, repeating the notes of his unreleased song with more vigor than he ever showed for the last week.

The recent victory over his attacker and, in some respect, Cuatro Angulos, tasted sweet on his mouth, and Tristan poured that feeling into his music.

It, and the Pop-star Points he got.

Last night, he had spent all his 3560 PP to increase his appearance to 250, music theory skill to 1280, guitar skill to 2095, acting to 1315, singing to 1857, and stage presence to 1223.

Spending all those points at once made Tristan feel especially fresh and energized. He looked extra handsome today, too, with every pore on his skin exuding an air of youthful appeal.

Tristan's heart danced on the guitar's strings, and it was a dance more powerful than a siren's song.

Even though today Tristan was only practicing the most complex steps of his melody, Derek, who was watching him from the corner of the practice hall, was utterly enchanted.

The man's fingers twitched in the rhythm of the guitar riffs, and if Tristan was playing and singing in full, Derek would've been definitely compelled to bob his head or even dance.

Ten minutes flew by in a blink of an eye, and Tristan finally took a break when he saw his guitar skill increasing by another point.

Tristan let the guitar hang from its belt and flexed his fingers, looking at his manager curiously.

"Did you need something, Mr. Derek, or were you just curious? You don't usually watch the practice sessions."

Derek smiled sheepishly.

"I know a lot about music, naturally, but I'm not a coach… And you definitely don't need one, Mr. Gemello. It looks like your personal matters have been resolved in the best way for you to play like… like this. I have no words, honestly."

Tristan grinned at him.

"Yeah, I don't even doubt that I can win the Californian Young Star contest with this. Unless my opponents really have trump cards in their pockets, neither of them will give me trouble. At least in terms of music alone. I'm more worried whether the record of the performance will go on American TV."

The amount of arrogance was staggering, but also entirely founded. Tristan's skill just grew that quickly!

Derek choked on his breath, taken aback by that statement, but even he couldn't deny it. He and Tristan both knew the levels of each competitor involved.

"This isn't about music alone, though, Mr. Gemello. Sadly, I've seen many talented people fail because they lacked something, sometimes entirely arbitrary. Or because someone else had it."

Tristan nodded seriously.

"I know."

"That's why I came to your practice, by the way. Besides curiosity, of course. I heard rumors from other people in the industry about the contest—that they are going to 'spice things up' this year for the sake of TV ratings. Make it less about music and more something like one of those action reality shows. With obstacles and jumping sharks."

Derek frowned as he said this. Tristan hummed.

"Well, I have nothing against ratings. But sharks, really?"

"No… But be ready for anything, even if it wasn't in the rules." He chuckled. "Maybe even for the sharks."

Tristan smiled.

He thought he could deal with the sharks without problems, too. That's why he also had a criminal career, after all.

***n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

That noon, Tristan got a message in the middle of his post-lunch break.

[Ding!]

[You have slapped the face of an extremely powerful person. Reward: your PP increased by 1500!]

When Tristan checked his laptop a short while later, there was a new computer infected with the Beholder. In the text extracted by the trojan, Tristan found some amusing messages.

[What's the meaning of this? This isn't Hayes's corpse. Are you really trying to trick me like that? Did you really hope I was going to send you money? This is a shot from a movie!]

[And you even called yourself by the legendary name of No Hope! If you thought I won't find you and won't retaliate, you were wrong.]

[Pathetic.]

Tristan guessed Lewis didn't reply and possibly blocked his employer entirely. Despite the person's threats, Tristan was positive Lewis will go without punishment.

When Tristan watched him send the bait message, he saw all the methods of electronic protection Lewis used, and there was enough that he wouldn't be found just from a chat.

And from the other information the Beholder brought to Tristan, he knew doubtlessly that he infected a computer of the boss of Cuatro Angulos himself!

Now he only had to wait and gather information quietly until he found the secrets necessary to cause the man's downfall.

'It will be minus one enemy and plus all the resources he had.'

However, Tristan's peace had been interrupted by a text message that came to his Hayes's phone.

It was from Sam, one of his four thugs.

Since yesterday, Trey and Owen were busy, today they "worked" under Derek, while Sam and the last thug, Cutout, actually worked in the city.

Previously, Tristan extracted some good leads on the local gang leaders, specifically those who had access to the docks. They had to pass a message from Tristan and organize a meeting with someone as high up as they could.

Somewhat risky, but not complicated. Worst-case scenario—Tristan's people will be chased away.

That's why Tristan was shocked to read the message.

[pigs trd get us. car chse. mvng to sc plaza]

First, Tristan had to translate the message in his head.

'Police tried to get us. Started a car chase. We are moving to the South Coast (probably?) Plaza.'

Why did this happen? The police had nothing (immediately) on Tristan's people. They had no grounds for arrest! If they went to prison in the past, that was in the past.

Whatever the reason, Tristan had to do something!

Abandoning his laptop, he hurried out of the room and downstairs of the hotel—and stopped in his tracks when he saw a pair of cops approaching the registration desk.

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