Back to the Present
Sigh…
"And now what?"
After replaying everything in his mind, Ken felt more composed. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a sleek phone with a glowing screen—its back marked by the iconic half-bitten apple, a brand as wildly popular as it was obscenely expensive.
He tapped the screen quickly, then stared at the ground, his expression blank and weary.
"Hmm… 10 million yen? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?"
His jaw tightened, and his gaze darkened.
I can't believe Mom actually did this to me.
A hundred million… A fortune to anyone else. But to him, it was an insult. A pathetic sum compared to what he was used to.
With just 10 million, what kind of life does she expect me to live?
…
No—this is worse.
I get it now. Maybe she didn't just disown me. Maybe she wants me dead. That way, she can erase every trace of me from this goddamn family.
Tch.
Ken clicked his tongue, a bitter smirk twisting his lips.
"Screw it…"
He stood up abruptly from the bench and grabbed the handle of his suitcase.
"I'm going to the casino."
After all, there was no way he could survive more than a week on that miserable amount.
But this time… I've got a good feeling. I'm going to win.
He took a deep breath, the hint of a cocky smile creeping across his face.
She's going to regret treating me like garbage.
---
A Reckless Gamble
After walking for a while, Ken stopped in front of a towering building lit up with blinding neon lights. On its facade, in gaudy golden letters, stood the name:
"BEST CASINO"
Even from outside, the sounds leaking through the doors—bursts of laughter, the clatter of chips, and the pulse of intoxicating music—made it clear he'd stepped into familiar territory.
This was his casino.
The place where he came to drown his frustrations.
Without hesitation, he stepped toward the entrance, suitcase trailing behind him.
The guard at the door spotted him and, without asking a single question, immediately stepped aside to let him in.
Inside, nothing had changed. It was still a temple of excess.
Dozens of tables stretched out across the floor, offering every game imaginable—roulette, blackjack, poker, slot machines, bingo…
The atmosphere was more that of a nighttime bar than a morning venue, despite the fact that it was only 10:22 a.m.
No sooner had he crossed the threshold than a sharply dressed man approached, wearing a polished, professional smile.
"Oh! Mr. Ken! Honoring us with your presence this early in the day? That's unusual… but always a pleasure, of course."
Chris. A casino staff member who knew Ken better than anyone.
Normally, Ken only showed up in the evening, when he needed to blow off steam.
Ken shrugged, clearly not in the mood for small talk.
"Circumstances have changed."
He locked eyes with Chris, then added with calm determination:
"Today, I'm not in the mood to lose. So I'm playing big."
Chris's smile widened instantly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Oh, absolutely, Mr. Ken! I have a feeling the games won't stand a chance against you today…" he said, rubbing his hands together like a shopkeeper sensing a lucrative sale.
Ken sneered slightly and snapped back:
"Cut the flattery. Let's go."
"As you wish, sir."
Without another word, the two headed toward the slot machines.
The clock read 10:22 a.m.
---
Tick-tock, tick-tock…
Time marched on mercilessly.
Now it was 8:02 p.m.
And in the heart of the casino, a scene both pathetic and tragic was unfolding.
A man, dressed in a black hoodie and matching pants, was begging one of the casino managers.
"Chris, please… We've known each other a long time, right? Just a loan… Just a small loan of 10,000 yen. I swear I'll win this time!"
That desperate man was none other than Ken—the same Ken who, just hours earlier, had walked in brimming with confidence.
Chris, the manager, stared down at him with cold disdain, as though he were looking at a squashed insect on the floor.
"Sorry. The house doesn't give out loans."
Gone was the polite tone, the respectful smile—now there was only contempt in his eyes.
"I… I'm begging you… The tips! Yeah, all those tips I gave you! Give them back!"
By now, the entire casino was watching.
Ken Ishikawa.
The man who had lost 9,999,000 yen in just a few hours, now groveling before everyone, a shadow of the man he had been.
Chris leaned in close, whispering in his ear with quiet malice:
"Putting on a show, huh? Pathetic little reject, cast out by his own family."
Ken's eyes widened.
How…?
It hadn't even been a full day since he'd been disowned—
and yet the news had already spread.
Chris continued, a cruel smirk curling on his lips:
"If you get the message, then get the hell out. Before I stop being polite."
Ken trembled with rage, but before he could say a word, Chris added:
"Not only are you worthless, but you don't even have a shred of luck. Honestly, are you even human?"
Ken clenched his fists.
This bastard…
This same Chris who used to kiss my damn shoes?
He stood up slowly, a bitter grin on his face, and under the mocking stares of the casino patrons, walked toward the exit.
I see…
Ken ran his right hand through his hair.
After all… not everyone can lose ten million yen in a single day of gambling.
He pulled out his phone.
Name: Kenshin Ishikawa
Balance: ¥1,000
One thousand yen.
He burst into laughter.
A bitter, broken laugh.
Now I get it…
For someone who once thought that even a hundred million yen wasn't enough to live on for a week,
seeing his account balance reduced to a thousand was nothing short of a descent into hell.
GZZZZZZZZZZZ.
His stomach growled.
He was starving.
"Guess I'll buy myself one last meal… then end up homeless… and starve to death."
Ever since his mother had disowned him, deep down, he'd felt like his life was already over.
But blinded by rage, he'd forced himself to believe—to believe he could make her regret it.
The only way to do that was to get rich, fast.
So he took a gamble.
Hoping to shut her up.
Not his mother, no—Madam Sakura Ishikawa.
He left the casino with a resigned smile,
his eyes now void of hope.
Wandering aimlessly, he eventually came across a bench.
He collapsed onto it, utterly drained.
His stomach cried out for food, but he no longer had the strength to answer.
He was nothing more than a hollow shell.
Should I just go back to my mother and apologize…?
No.
Knowing her, there's no way she'd ever take me back.
We're talking about a woman who crushed her own blood brother without blinking—just because he was direct competition.
What if I went to see my little sisters? Asked them for money?
"After everything that's happened between you and them, you really think you can crawl to their feet and beg?"
Ken murmured the words to himself.
Yeah… I guess this really is the end.
…
Time kept ticking on, indifferent to Kenshin's existence.
And then, suddenly—
A voice rang out, breaking the silence:
"Oh ho… What's a kid like you doing sitting there like some old man waiting to die? And coming from me, that's saying something."
An old man approached slowly, leaning heavily on a cane.
Deep wrinkles carved into his face, so much so that his eyes seemed permanently squinted, barely able to open.
He hobbled toward the bench where Ken sat.
Ken lifted his head, weary eyes meeting the stranger.
Who the hell is this…?
The old man chuckled.
"Ah… Not much for manners, are you?"
Then, with some effort, he sat down beside him.
"Just kidding. I know you're not really in the mood for conversation, kid. But I've got a hell of a deal for you."
In his trembling hands, he held a book.
He extended it slowly toward Ken.
Ken, completely drained, moved like a machine.
He wasn't thinking anymore.
He simply accepted whatever came, reacting mechanically to the world around him.
He took the book without a word.
The cover was entirely black, with a single title etched in shimmering gold letters:
"GOD OF FREELANCE"
The hell is this crap?
The old man smiled, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.
"900 yen. Take this book for 900 yen, and I swear—your life will change, kid. It's—"
He was about to launch into what was clearly a well-rehearsed sales pitch, when Ken cut him off:
"Do you take bank transfers?"