Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

Tristan wasn't really worried about Asher's response. He could see that the man was already eager to develop his theories.

"This isn't anything illicit, right? And it will be quiet. And you will keep HIM," Asher pointed at Damien, "quiet. Secret."

"Absolutely," Tristan promised.

Damien folded his arms over his chest, but kept his mouth shut.

"Then I will do what I can. The doctors told me to rest, but I think I can manage some work with documents."

Asher reached into his nightstand and pulled out a brick-phone. It looked like something from 2001, but new. The screen was still black-and-white.

"The simplicity of this phone protects it from dark particles. And I also kept this number a secret," Asher explained. "My assistant arranged with the mobile network provider to hide my number when I call, and not even he knows it. But, I suppose, you will need it to communicate with me properly…"

"Yes, it will help a lot. Don't worry, I will keep it a secret, Mr. Ilom. And the sooner we deal with this dark cyclone, the sooner you will be out of this hospital and working on your movie again. I bet you had to put the shootings on hold because of all that happened."

Asher glowered at the wall.

"Oh, yes, I had to. All my lead actors fell sick. Nothing too serious—they are at home right now, relaxing. While I'm stuck in this place. Anyway, my phone number…"

He dictated it to Tristan, who memorized it instead of writing it down. Thanks to his intelligence attribute, his memory was much better than before, and he was sure he won't forget this phone number. Just like he could recall two dozen others from the top of his head.

And then, having got what he wanted, Tristan took Damien with him and left Asher to rest alone. It was ten minutes past visiting hours, anyway—the guards frowned at them on their way down.

Tristan walked with Damien all the way out of the hospital and on the way toward his parked car. As he walked, he typed Vargas a message telling him that Damien was found.

And for a few minutes, they both were silent. It didn't last.

"Mr. Hayes…" Damien started. "You really are going to make Asher work with your admin team?"

Tristan stared at him, reading Damien's mood. It was tumultuous, but there was a depth of emotions within the usually carefree and daredevil man that Tristan wasn't sure how to read.

He didn't pay much attention before, but the relationship thread between Damien and Asher was full of almost all colors of the rainbow. The red of love prevailed, though.

"Yes, I do. You have a problem with that, Damien?"

"I have! I avoided him for years, so no one tried to put a gun to HIS head to make ME drop it all and put my head on the chopping block. And now Kevin and everybody with him will know about him, and who knows whom THEY will tell! A secret is only a secret as long as only one person knows it. Make it two and one of them will tell the third!"

Tristan gave Damien a disdainful look.

"First, don't you talk with me like that. You are in too much hot water for it."

The pressure Tristan emanated so casually, just to remind Damien about his place, made Damien gulp. The only bravado he had left after two seconds of experiencing this look was all fake.

Damien had a tendency to forget admonishments all too quickly, but this time, he was thoroughly chastised.

Tristan nodded.

"And also, Damien, you have started all this with your reckless actions. Don't even TRY to put the blame on me."

Damien clenched his fists, but nodded. The anger he felt right now was really directed at himself—Tristan could tell easily.

"I apologize, boss—for this and for ditching my obligations earlier. It was… Well, I won't be throwing excuses at you. It happened, and it was my fault. I won't complain about whatever punishment you deem necessary in response to that."

"You shouldn't be complaining either way," Tristan said nonchalantly.

He thought about said punishment as they walked down the hospital parking lot.

Tristan had half a thought to leave the punishment up to Vargas—he was good at coming up with those, and he got the most gray hairs because of Damien's actions.

However, he was also clearly Damien's friend, or at least something like it. Making Vargas punish Damien seemed like an easy way to piss off both men.

"I could just demote you for a month, but right now? Too many things are happening for that. Corporal punishment… Well, this is too small for cutting off fingers. But a semi-public flogging will be in your style exactly. Very pirate-like."

Damien kept his face stony.

"I bet the scars from it will be cool."

Tristan sighed.

"I also bet they won't actually teach you anything, Damien. You are way too reckless sometimes. Not like James—he's just trigger-happy and wants to live forever—but forgetful of the consequences."

Damien didn't reply to that, and Tristan continued to think in silence until they reached his car, and even after that, when Damien bid his goodbye, promised to reappear at his office as soon as possible, and went to his own car.

'The purpose of punishments is both to intimidate and to teach a lesson. A flogging will intimidate, but it won't be a lesson for this man. To be a lesson, I will actually have to harm or threaten Asher sometimes. But is this the only way?'n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Tristan knew it was also a sure way to make Damien hate him and eventually lose his loyalty. No, this road led to an inevitable betrayal.

Streets and thoughts sped past him as he drove home.

The change of pace helped Tristan recover his brain power, but it wasn't enough to feel at his 100%.

'Teaching a lesson… Perhaps, an actual lesson is required, then? Something more… literal.' A sudden idea coalesced in Tristan's head, making him smirk. 'Oh, this is good. Humiliating, but also actually useful. Hell, I bet a lot of others could benefit from it.'

As Damien's punishment, Tristan was going to make him visit a psychotherapist. Someone who could be convinced to treat a gangster and keep everything private, of course.

Most gangsters, who were manly macho alpha-male men, would scoff at the very idea of visiting a psychotherapist. It was too sissy and weak for them (even if it was safe to talk about your deepest secrets and post-traumatic stress disorders with someone who could rat you out to the police).

Damien was certainly one of those macho men. From the way he spoke before, and the way he mentioned Asher's paranoia, Tristan was sure that Damien thought psychotherapists were only for total nutjobs who thought that online articles could be cursed.

In Tristan's own experience, psychotherapists were often people to whom you came to complain about your life for an hour because you had no friends who won't use your complaints as ammunition later.

He didn't do it, but he knew some people who did. Including his mother.

These people could afford it.

***

A day later.

Tristan was still progressing in his hacking task with tiny steps, when he got a report with good news from Kevin—much sooner than expected. Discover hidden stories at empire

[Mr. Hayes, I think we got it! Mr. Asher was hard to work with, even without all the esoteric stuff, but he got a lot of surprising insights. There IS a correlation within the data online, and Mr. Asher pointed us where to search many times.

After all we found, Asher described Gospel's original post as a 'psychic equivalent of a nuclear bomb'. It's not just written incredibly compellingly, it also creates a chain reaction of negative opinions. People who were converted to hating celebrities by Gospel's post began writing their own articles about whoever they personally hated more than others. Those were far from as compelling as the original, but there were still enough haters to pass around.

And the worst is that this hatred seems to have an actual effect on the health of people, as insane as it sounds. There is a clear correlation—people got more sick were the ones who got the most hateful things posted online about them. There are a few anomalies, like Mr. Asher himself, but they can be explained by pre-existing medical conditions. Like with Mr. Asher himself.

I heard people can get sick from the stress of hearing too many bad things about themselves. Asher just thinks it's Gospel's 'dark particles'.

I put all the data we sifted through in a table and attached it to this message. There's more data to look at, if you want us to make the sample size bigger, but it will take more time.]

Tristan looked over the table. Kevin was right about the correlation.

'But… How can I protect myself and Nel from this?'