Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

After the experience of the past two months, these thugs barely fazed him. The gun wasn't even pointed directly at Tristan.

"No fucking way!"

"No chance."

Tristan and the glittery guy spoke in unison, their words overlapping each other.

Tristan chuckled at how unanimous they were.

"You think that's funny? This isn't a toy, little boys!" the gun-wielding thug said, waving his weapon around. "Stay still and quiet! Hey, Rob, think we should tie them up before they call people in or something?"

"Nah, just hold them at gunpoint for now."

The glittery guy grit his teeth, but was frozen by a gun pointing at his head.

Tristan waited, wondering what these two would do next. He had to be cautious with his identity, but soon enough, someone from the staff was about to enter the room.

The thugs' plan was poorly thought-through.

One of them approached Tristan, and thug's hand reached for the handle of his guitar.

"You won't need that anymore, so give me your guitar!"

He made two mistakes at once—pissed Tristan off and gave him an opportunity to act.

Tristan stepped aside, putting the thug between himself and the second one—and suddenly HE was the one pointing a gun at the grabby thug!

The man gasped in shock. In reflex, he reached for his own gun—and gasped again when he felt only an empty pocket.

The second thug moved to point his weapon on Tristan, but it was too late to stop him! Although Tristan was at gunpoint now, he only smirked.

"Are you going to shoot me? What if your hand twitches and you hit your friend by accident? Scram, before I make more holes in you than in flutes!"

"You! H-how did you steal my gun?!"

Tristan was just that good. He aimed the gun at the closest thug's head.

His eyes were blazing with determination to win, even if it meant walking over corpses. A willingness to kill that normal civilians didn't have.

The thugs stood frozen by that stony gaze. The strikingly handsome young man in front of them looked like a hardened killer at this moment.

Cold sweat appeared on their foreheads and their hands began shaking. But they were too hardened to just retreat in this situation!

"Police, hey, we are being attacked like, right now! Right in the music hall—there's security here, but we can't call them, it's too loud outside!"

Everybody looked at the glittery guy, who was talking into his phone.

The faces of thugs flashed with even panic

"Fuck! He called the police! Why the hell didn't you stop him from calling the police?! You should've been watching him!"

"Shut up and move! We are getting away!"

The thugs backed away to the door, the one with a gun never moving his weapon away from Tristan until the door closed behind them. Although they didn't run in panic, they still fled like dogs with tails between their legs.

[Ding!]

[You have terrified 2 people. Reward: your PP increased by 20.]

[Ding!]

[You have impressed a person. Reward: your CP increased by 10.]

[Ding!]

[Pickpocketing skill increased by 1. Reward: your PP increased by 10.]

[Ding!]

[Fearsomeness attribute increased by 1. Reward: your PP increased by 100!]

Soon, their footsteps disappeared into the noise coming from the stage.

"Aaaaah! That was so damn close!" the glittery guy shouted, flailing his hands so hard that his phone flew away and onto the floor. "Aaaaaaaah, shit! Shit, my phone!"

Tristan grimaced and began wiping the fingerprints off the gun with his shirt. Then he put the gun on the floor and kicked it away, where it could be someone else's problem.

Police would still hound him. They just always did.

But then he glanced in the glittery guy's direction and let out a relieved chuckle.

"You never actually called the police, did you?"

The phone in the man's hands—the screen was cracked, but lit—was showing an entirely different number on the screen.

"Nooo, I know how that works. We would've gotten detained, and I have to perform after the next person! You were amazing out there, by the way. That acting—you could've been working in Hollywood, I swear."

"I'm striving toward that, too."

The glittery man laughed (somewhat hysterically), then took a dozen deep breaths and calmed down.

"So, what's your name?"

"Tristan Gemello. But just Tristan is fine."

"I'm Nelson Mayar, but everybody just calls me Nel. Have to say, I thought you were kind of an asshole at first. But it looks like you were a cool asshole all that time."

Tristan snorted.

"For someone so determined to compete, you are terribly nice towards your competition. Even 'assholes'."

Nel shrugged.

"I don't like to discriminate. People are so unequal to each other all the time, and I feel like I should change that at least a little, you know? Although I don't think even I have the patience for people who hurt me personally. Am not Jesus. Not even a saint. Just another sinner like all of us."

Tristan tilted his head. The way Nel said that showed that it all sounded very personal to the man. Like he had been judged and discriminated against too many times for something, in the eyes of God or the people, and was sick of it.

Tristan could relate.

"If someone looks down upon you because of who you are, just show them the middle finger. And then break their knees." Tristan smiled, showing that he was joking about the latter (he wasn't).

Nel laughed.

"One doesn't stop another!"

The music from the outside quietened. The host began talking again, announcing the next performer, and Tristan's ear caught a familiar name.

"I have to go. See you later, Nel."

He waved.

"Sure thing. Watch my performance—it's gonna be lit!"

Tristan nodded and rapidly left the room, heading toward the audience hall.

On his way there, he opened the status panel.

'I suddenly got 150 Pop-star Points to spare… Where will they benefit me the most?'