Chapter 5: Let’s Be Friends!

Chapter 5: Let's Be Friends!

On the way home from school, a stop at a sports store was necessary to pick up a few things for training.

The purchases were simple: lightweight wrist and ankle weights to help with martial arts conditioning, black Kung-Fu uniforms and shoes for better movement, and standard athletic cups for protection.

I also bought non-slip black sports tape. While typically used for baseball bats or tennis rackets, it works perfectly for the grips on fighting sticks. Under local laws, these collapsible sticks are a legal self-defense option.

Using a weapon like this, even as a skilled martial artist, provides a necessary advantage. It allows one to maintain distance from an attacker, especially if they are wielding a blade. Fighting someone with a blunt instrument is far safer and more effective at bridging the reach gap than going in empty-handed. Plus, unlike bladed weapons, sticks allow for a defensive victory without the risk of causing lethal harm.

The sticks I chose were titanium telescopic models. I planned to apply the grip tape immediately for better control. These would be the primary choice for self-defense in situations where more extreme measures aren't appropriate.

The Kung-Fu outfits were chosen for utility. They provide a full range of motion and an inconspicuous look that blends in well at night. They also pair well with the slash-resistant long coat I recently acquired. That coat acts as a form of lightweight armor, designed to resist blades and provide a layer of tactical safety.

The remaining items arriving by mail—a tactical mask and a shoulder holster for the Beretta M9A4—would complete the set. While I plan to apply for a legal carry permit in the future, the current regulations are strict, often requiring a professional justification. In this society, honor is often associated with the fist, and those who rely on illegal weapons are viewed with disdain. Regardless, I intended to ensure that no digital footprint of these purchases remained on the store's security servers.

I picked up some groceries for dinner at the Quick-Mart, along with some entertainment magazines. Both my sister and I enjoy keeping up with news about rising stars and music groups. It’s a good way to unwind after a long day.

Once home, I put the groceries away and grabbed the lock-pick set I had worked on. Since the post office delivers to the designated lockers regardless of occupancy, my packages were waiting in a secure box for a vacant unit.

Using my newly forged tools to access the locker was a matter of necessity for privacy. I moved quickly in the mailroom, ensuring the door was closed to avoid any unwanted attention. Accessing the postal area without a key is a serious matter, so precision and speed were essential. My Thief skill made short work of the mechanical lock, my fingers working the tension wrench with fluid, unbothered precision.

Within moments, the locker was open and the overnight orders were retrieved. I reset the lock to its original state and headed back upstairs.

I carefully stored the new gear where it wouldn't be found, then started preparing supper for my sister. My Cooking skill kept my movements perfectly organized and efficient. I would have plenty of time to inspect the equipment properly once the house was quiet for the night.

For this evening, I decided to cook two thick Teriyaki Ribeye steaks alongside a side of loaded mashed potatoes prepared in the air fryer, finishing the menu with an apple cobbler for the final treat.

While the food was still cooking in the air fryer, the front door unlocked. My sister walked into the kitchen, looking thoroughly exhausted from her shift. She took one look at the premium cuts of meat sizzling on the counter and paused.

"What's the special occasion?" she asked.

I smiled at her, offering a warm, reassuring look. "Mr. Chi is giving me a personal letter of recommendation to Star University. I wanted us to celebrate with a proper meal. Plus, let's face it—my actual eighteenth-birthday dinner was a little lame, right?"

Mary’s eyes snapped wide open, her mouth literally gaping in sheer shock as she stared at me.

"Hard-Ass Chi is giving you a recommendation letter?" she stammered, her voice rising an octave. "He only hands out a single letter per year to one incredibly lucky student! Wait... you mean to tell me you actually beat out Linda Lang and Scott Tang?!"

"Surprise, Sis," I said with a casual shrug. "I’ve secretly been hiding my true intellectual capacity from everyone. Turns out your little brother is only a little bit dumb. It’s the real deal."

Mary stood entirely frozen in a daze, unable to formulate a coherent sentence. Without another word, she abruptly turned and walked straight into the bathroom to wash up. I figured she just needed a private moment to process the absolute bomb I had just dropped on her.

By the time she emerged, the table was fully set and our delicious meal was served. As we ate, I could clearly read the profound mix of overwhelming joy and deep, psychological confusion swirling in her eyes. I didn't push the issue, content to let her stew in her own thoughts while she enjoyed the steak.

The reality was that I had completely transformed since my hospitalization. Because Mary had raised me and was my real sister, she possessed a deep, instinctual understanding of my personality. She knew me better than anyone else on the planet, and her investigator instincts were screaming that something fundamental had shifted.

Setting her fork down, she looked across the table and finally broke the silence. "Rick, being a detective means I am professionally trained to analyze human behavior. Your entire demeanor since you woke up in that hospital bed is like you're a completely different person. I am incredibly happy for your success, but at the same exact time... I'm terrified of whatever is happening inside your head. Please talk to me if you are struggling with something."

I looked across the table, seeing nothing but raw, maternal concern in her eyes. Activating my Acting skill, I carefully modulated my posture and vocal micro-tones to project a sense of deep, vulnerable honesty as I attempted to explain the transition.

"You're incredibly sharp, Sis," I murmured, putting down my fork and staring intently at my open palms. "I am different now. Before my eighteenth birthday, I felt like I was living my entire life inside a heavy, suffocating fog. My thoughts and actions always felt like looking through a severely clouded window, or trying to pedal a completely rusted bike."

I took a slow breath, keeping her locked in my gaze. "While I was growing up, I would look at books about culinary arts, read various academic subjects, or watch random instructional videos on the internet about hand-to-hand combat and advanced driving mechanics. Back then, none of that news seemed to stick to my surface thoughts. But under the surface, my subconscious mind was actively recording, learning, and memorizing every single piece of information I ever saw."

I stood up, starting to clear the empty dishes from the table while maintaining a steady, confident tone. "But after that brutal beating, the spiking fever, and those intense seizures in the ER, it feels like my brain has finally been cleared of all the internal cobwebs. That clouded window is now entirely transparent. The rusted bike is fully greased—and the brakes have been cut."

Mary leaned forward, her brow furrowing slightly. "Brother, what exactly do you mean by 'the brakes are cut'?"

"I mean I am not afraid of minor pebbles like Scott Tang anymore," I stated firmly, looking back at her over my shoulder. "I feel completely assured in my physical and mental capability to protect this family. I'm not a crying, defenseless kid anymore. I haven't gone insane, and I'm definitely not suicidal. This is just the reality of what I'm dealing with in my heart and mind right now. Tell me the truth, Mary... do you fear me now?"

Mary immediately stood up, walking across the small kitchen to wrap her arms tightly around my shoulders from behind.

"You're the only person in this entire world I could never fear, brother," she whispered near my ear. "I am just incredibly glad you opened up to me. My only fear is that your sudden surge of overconfidence is going to get you killed out there. I don't care how much you've changed; none of this was your fault. If Scott Tang had just kept his goddamn hands off you, you wouldn't have been pushed to this edge in the first place. Just promise me you'll let me be your emotional anchor when things get too heavy, okay?"

I let out a quiet sigh, realizing the timeline of my life would have shifted that night regardless, though the physical beating definitely made the transition a hell of a lot more painful. I gently patted her hands where they rested on my shoulders, offering a light chuckle.

"I'll agree to that on one condition," I countered playfully. "You have to actively talk to me whenever your own tactical shifts leave you stressed or worried. From now on, I am functioning as your personal pillar of hope. We support each other."

Mary laughed at my sudden bravado, the lingering tension in the room instantly evaporating. Together, we quickly cleaned up the small kitchen before retreating to our respective evening routines. Mary cracked open a cold beer and put on her favorite soap operas, casually flipping through the entertainment magazines I had brought home. Meanwhile, I sat on the couch with my laptop, scouring the local networks and tracking regional security updates.

My Computer Use skill was fully engaged, allowing me to ghost through encrypted databases and local precinct logs without leaving a single digital trace.

The sharp vibration of my smartphone echoed through the dark living room a few hours after Mary had officially turned in for the night. The screen illuminated with an entirely restricted, unknown number.

I slid the green icon across the glass. "Rick Lee here. Speak to me."

The smooth, highly confident voice of Nichole Ning filtered cleanly through the speaker.

[ Your instructions explicitly said to call this number, so I am calling. ]

"Don't say another word for now," I interrupted, my fingers already flying across the laptop keyboard. "Give me exactly thirty seconds to fully encrypt this line. We don't know who might be monitoring this cellular band."

Nichole obediently went completely silent on the other end. I rapidly logged her incoming routing signatures, deployed a localized script that actively bounced our digital handshake across multiple international proxies, and fortified our security setup. My Master level Computer Use made the entire deep-web routing process look like child's play. Once the connection was masked, I hung up the phone and immediately initiated an encrypted video call back to her device under my hidden identifier.

The call connected seamlessly.

[ Can we actually converse now? ] she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, leaning back against the couch cushions. "I had to force the network providers and our respective devices to run in digital circles to ensure no external node can record or trace this exchange. Save the routing number you see on your screen right now—it's an encrypted burner separate from my standard cellular line."

[ Next time, just simply tell me the line is completely bug-proof, ] Nichole murmured, a soft, melodic laugh filtering through the audio. [ I didn't comprehend a single word of that technical speech, fufu. ]

"I am currently running this call directly through my workstation computer terminal," I explained, tracking the packet pathways. "You can activate your forward-facing video function if you are decent. That way, you can visually verify that I don't have anyone else sitting in this room listening in."

[ Fine. Let's see how this looks. ]

The literal second the high-definition video feed materialized on my monitor, I was forced to rapidly turn my head away from the keyboard, completely spitting out the mouthful of water I had just been drinking.

Nichole Ning was framed clearly on the display, sitting casually in the center of her massive bed. She was wearing nothing but a highly provocative, skin-tight black silk teddy, her dark hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. Right beside her, resting against the headboard, was her identical twin sister, Nadia, who was casually flipping through a stack of academic textbooks. Nadia was clad in an identical, revealing silk teddy—except hers was a vibrant shade of crimson.

[ How does the view look, Mr. Blackmailer? ] Nichole purred, leaning slightly closer to her camera lens. [ I figured a man of your talent would naturally want to inspect the physical goods first before launching into whatever illicit propositions you have planned for us, right? ]

I was far too busy hacking up my lungs from the misplaced water to immediately register the sharp, calculating glint in her eyes or the subtle, knowing smirk playing at the edge of her lips.

Once I finally managed to stabilize my breathing, I waved my hands rapidly in front of the webcam, completely throwing my half-assed blackmail strategy out the window.

"Cough! No, no, no! I am absolutely not propositioning you for anything like that! The solitary objective I am pursuing here is securing your direct assistance to get my revenge on Scott Tang."

Nichole paused, her playful expression subtly morphing into deep intrigue.

[ Oh? But don't you harbor an intense desire to exact revenge on my sister and me as well? What about Linda Lang? You are telling me your entire focus is solely to make Scott suffer? ]

"Exactly," I stated, my voice leveling out into a cold, pragmatic register. "To be perfectly frank, I don't feel like the minor social hazing you sisters participated in actually ruined my life. But if causing you a slight amount of operational discomfort effectively destroys Scott, I am more than willing to pull that trigger. If you refuse to collaborate with me, I will systematically expose the Ning family's fraudulent activities to dismantle Scott's business backing. It's a messy option—the equivalent of pissing on an entire anthill just to drown a single ant—but I'll do it if forced."

[ Although your choice of analogy is incredibly gross, it is terrifyingly accurate, ] Nichole conceded, her tone turning completely serious. [ So, let's get down to business. What exactly do you require from us, Rick? ]

"You’ve both been operating directly by his side for a full calendar year," I countered, tapping a key on my board. "You must possess some form of leverage or internal clues that I can utilize to completely dismantle him, right?"

Nichole raised a manicured hand, covering a highly amused, charming smile as she looked at the screen.

[ No, seriously, Rick... you command absolute, ruinous leverage over our entire family, and your grand plan is to have me engineer a blueprint to destroy my own fiancé? You are incredibly good at this. Now, don't frown at me like that—I am paying you a genuine compliment here. I honestly assumed my blackmailer was going to be a brainless, heartless pig intent on making our lives a living hell. Instead, you have us completely trapped in a check position if this were a game of chess. ]

"Get straight to the point," I snapped, entirely unimpressed by her aristocratic flattery. "I don't play those manipulative linguistic games, so save the act for Scott. You have until the absolute end of our high school term to deliver a viable structural vulnerability on his operation. Otherwise, I might just decide to use my access to completely drain his multi-million-dollar trust fund."

The moment the phrase 'drain his trust fund' echoed through the speaker, Nadia’s head violently snapped up from her textbooks. Her face flushed with immediate, unadulterated panic as she aggressively lunged across the mattress toward the camera lens, her voice cracking in a desperate plea.

[ Rick, please, don't do that! ] Nadia begged, her hands practically shaking on-screen. [ I will personally hunt down whatever high-level dirt you want on him, I promise! I absolutely need that trust-fund capital to secure my personal future! Do whatever you want to Scott, but please, leave the money alone! ]

I kept my expression entirely neutral, though inwardly I was deeply surprised by the sheer, unbridled depth of Nadia's gold-digging desperation. I hadn't actually intended to execute a massive wire-fraud extraction on the account, but watching her completely lose her elite composure was a fascinating piece of clues.

Nichole let out a deeply disappointed, annoyed sigh, physically shoving her panicked sister out of the camera frame before re-centering herself.

[ Kindly ignore my sister's outbursts, Rick. You are the one holding the cards here, which means you call the operational shots. Though, looking at you... I don't think you actually care about his money at all, do you? ]

"I am currently transmitting a batch of encrypted audio files and video news collected straight from your fiancé's personal device," I said, ignoring her analysis. "I am going to terminate this connection now. Review the clues, and I will call you back in exactly ten minutes."

I hit send, transmitting the pristine digital recordings of Scott’s morning conversation with Linda Lang, alongside his private bedroom audio where he openly mocked the Ning family's bloodline and detailed his exact plans for the twins. I severed the call.

Exactly ten minutes later, I re-initiated the encrypted video uplink.

When Nichole's face reappeared on the monitor, the seductive, playful mask was completely gone. Her eyes burned with a cold, venomous fury, her jaw tightly clenched.

[ Rick... you are terrifyingly good at intelligence gathering, ] she whispered, her voice shaking with a dangerous, aristocratic rage. [ That absolute bitch of a maid has been pretending to be our close confidante for months, and she is actively undermining our position before the wedding even takes place? Oh, I am absolutely furious. Give me a few days to orchestrate a methodology to completely break Scott without compromising our own financial security. Is that acceptable to you, Rick? ]

"The only outcome I require is my definitive revenge by the conclusion of this high school semester," I replied smoothly, closing out the background scripts. "Take your time and ensure the execution is flawless. I apologize for shattering your illusions regarding the household maid, but I needed to ensure you were properly motivated for the task ahead."

[ Rick, to show I appreciate your good will with this, let me return the favor. Tomorrow morning before you enter school, Scott hired a group of six thugs to beat you so bad you can't graduate. So avoid it if you can, or call your sister to help out. Sorry to have made you miserable in the past, it was not personal for us. ]

"I think you're cruel, cutthroat, and completely pragmatic," I replied, leaning into the mic with a low, humorless chuckle. "But at least you're fundamentally honest about your desires—and that goes for you too, Nadia. Everyone else in this academy might despise the Ning family for how you operate, but at the very least, you've earned my respect."

A genuine, soft smile touched Nichole's lips on the high-definition display.

[ That is officially the sweetest compliment we sisters have ever received, Rick. Well, I promise you, on the sacred name of the Ning family, you will get an entirely satisfactory conclusion when it comes to dealing with Scott Tang. Good night, Mr. Blackmailer! ]

The video feed instantly severed, replacing their silk-clad figures with a dark, blank software terminal.

I stared stupidly at the glowing monitor for a solid five seconds before blinking in disbelief.

"Wait a damn minute!" I muttered aloud to the empty living room, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "I am the one holding all the leverage here! I am Mr. Blackmailer! Aren't I supposed to be the one who gets the dramatic final word and hangs up on them?!"

Shaking my head at the absolute absurdity of the corporate elite, I shut down the terminal and walked over to my backpack. If Scott had mobilized a six-man squad of professional street thugs to intercept me at the gates, tomorrow morning wasn't going to be a standard walk to school. It was going to be an ambush.

I unzipped the main compartment, carefully packing the tactical gear I had procured earlier. The titanium telescopic batons went in first, followed by the non-slip black grip tape and my weighted training gear. If my Grandmaster Kung-Fu was physically capped at the Advanced level due to my bruised ribs, I needed to make sure every single strike carried maximum structural force.

Satisfied with my preparations, I threw on a pair of comfortable sweats and collapsed onto the living room couch, pulling the heavy blanket over my shoulders. Within minutes, the fatigue of my overclocked brain caught up to me, and I drifted straight into a deep, dreamless sleep...

Rewinding the clock back by a few minutes, to the exact moment Nichole hung up the encrypted line on me.

Nichole smoothly slid her smartphone onto the wireless charging pad on her nightstand and pulled the silk duvet up to her chest. Beside her, Nadia set her academic textbooks face-down on the mattress, staring at her identical twin with a completely speechless, bewildered expression.

"But sister," Nadia finally whispered, leaning over the pillows. "You already meticulously mapped out exactly how Rick is going to extract his revenge on Scott. Why on earth did you lie and tell him you needed a few days to brainstorm a blueprint?! I don't understand why we didn't just give him the clues right then and there."

Nichole let out a long, deeply exhausted sigh, looking at her twin like an exasperated mother dealing with a toddler.

"Sister... kindly use that beautiful, underutilized brain of yours for a single second. Open up our private cycle-tracking app and take a look at our calendar. What does it say about the upcoming week?"

Nadia blinked, unlocked her phone, and tapped into their shared health ledger. Her eyes scanned the digital dates, and she immediately smacked her own forehead in a moment of sudden, dramatic realization. A mischievous, wicked giggle bubbled up from her chest.

"Ufufu!" Nadia laughed, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh wow, I feel completely stupid. Thank you so much for reminding me, sister. Good night, he-he!"

"Good night, dummy," Nichole murmured, turning off the bedside lamp and plunging the massive luxury bedroom into darkness.

A sharp, anticipation-filled grin spread across Nichole's face in the dark. Rick Lee thought he was the one pulling the strings of a standard extortion scheme, entirely blind to the fact that the twins were already preparing a completely different kind of trap for him. Nestling deep into her pillows, she closed her eyes, ready to join me in a shared, vicious dream of absolute revenge.