After Daphne left, I was about to enter the tattoo parlor with Stein to rest when a drunk man stumbled into the alley. He leaned against the wall as if he was going to vomit.
If this alley ended up covered in disgusting vomit, our shop would suffer the most. Stein rushed forward to shoo him away, but the drunkard—despite his state—tried to throw punches. Stein wasn't much of a fighter, so I stepped in to help.
But when I got a proper look at the drunk man, I froze.
"Moreira?" I exclaimed.
Moreira had been my childhood friend back in the village. After high school, his family moved to Vervecity, and we lost contact. I never expected to run into him here.
Moreira was too drunk, and with it being nighttime, he didn't recognize me at first. It wasn't until I slapped him across the face ten times that he finally sobered up a little.
"Ror? Is that you?" Moreira was just as shocked as I was—meeting in some random alley after all these years.
I brought him inside, and after a few cups of sobering tea, Moreira regained some clarity. Just moments ago, he could barely keep his eyes open.
"You should really drink less," I said. "Too much is bad for your health. Especially getting wasted and puking in alleys—you'll get yourself killed one day."
Moreira's expression turned gloomy. He said he was drinking to drown his sorrows—the worse his mood got, the more he drank. This time, he'd blacked out and didn't even know where he was, only that he needed to vomit against a wall.
As the saying goes, "When hometown friends meet, they either stab each other in the back—" Wait, no—"When hometown friends meet, tears fill their eyes." Moreira seemed to be going through something rough, so I tried to cheer him up and asked what was bothering him.
Moreira sighed. He admitted he had a gambling problem and had recently gotten hooked on the stock market. His investments had crashed spectacularly, leaving him not just penniless but buried in debt. To make matters worse, his girlfriend had run off with someone else. His luck couldn't get any worse.
Now, he didn't even dare go home. Debt collectors hounded him daily, and his family had threatened to disown him.
I sighed. "Buddy, you've got to stay away from gambling. It's a bottomless pit—once you're trapped, your life is over."
Moreira waved me off dismissively. He insisted he was just unlucky—and besides, "stocks aren't gambling."
True, strictly speaking, stocks aren't gambling. But tell that to the people jumping off rooftops—there's no shortage of them.
Suddenly, Moreira stood up and started examining my tattoo parlor.
"So, Ror, you opened a tattoo shop in Vervecity? Looks promising. Must be making good money, huh?" Moreira said.
"Not bad!" I replied modestly, scratching my head.
If this were an ordinary tattoo parlor, it would have gone out of business long ago. I made good money thanks to the Tattoos of Gods and Ghosts, a form of Yin-related sorcery. Surprisingly, Moreira knew about it—he said he'd heard rumors from folks back in our village.
"Hey Ror, I heard the tattoos your grandfather taught you are incredible. Help me out—do you have any for improving luck? I've been down on my luck lately," Moreira pleaded.
I told him such tattoos existed, but they weren't cheap.
There were two types: Yang-themed tattoos and Yin-inspired tattoos. The Yang-themed one was called the Five-way God of Wealth Talisman.
The Yin-inspired version was far more sinister—Five Ghosts Fortune-Bringing. According to Grandpa, this one couldn't be done lightly. It traded lifespan for sudden wealth. Anyone considering it had to think carefully—what ghosts give, they can later take back twofold. The consequences of rebellion were unimaginable.
Who was this tattoo for? Only those desperate for money to save their lives. If you were already fighting to survive, losing a few years wouldn't matter.
The Five-way God of Wealth Talisman was simpler, with milder effects. Price: $10,000.
Moreira let out a bitter laugh. "I've barely got a few dozen bucks to my name right now. Where would I get $10,000?"
After a moment's thought, I told him he could pay later. Given our history—sharing pants as kids, splitting popsicles—I wasn't worried he'd skip out. Money wasn't worth ruining old friendships over, and Moreira was in a tight spot. I wanted to help.
But I laid down one condition: "If your luck turns around and you pay off your debts, you quit gambling for good. No more stock market gambling either."
Moreira swore on the spot. "If I dig myself out of this hole, I'm done with stocks. That road only leads to ruin!"
Seeing his sincerity—and given our bond—I decided to help him out with a free tattoo first.
The Five-way God of Wealth Talisman had to be inked on the hand—since hands handle money, fortune comes through them.
I took Moreira to the tattoo room, prepped the needle and ink, and began working on his hand.
The design was straightforward—just a simple talisman—and took about two hours.
"Will this actually work?" Moreira asked skeptically. "Just a tattooed symbol on my hand can change my luck?"
I shrugged. "You won't become the richest man alive, but scraping together some cash? That shouldn't be a problem."
"A small amount? How small? Don't tell me it's just one or two dollars?" Moreira asked with a bitter, disgusted smile.
I said I couldn't be sure—it depended on his destiny. Some people were born poor; even the God of Wealth couldn't send them much money.
Moreira seemed to understand and nodded. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he prepared to leave. "Aren't you afraid to go home? Why not stay here for a few nights?" I suggested.
He refused, claiming he would crash at a friend's place instead. "Don't want to trouble you. If debt collectors track me here, they might trash your shop." With that, he left.
After Moreira was gone, Stein shook his head at me and sighed.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I've seen enough gambling addicts," Stein said. "You really think Moreira can quit just like that? He'd say anything right now. And 'staying at a friend's'? Bullshit. He's obviously going to gamble again."
Maybe Stein was right. But I'd done what I could to help. If Moreira didn't change, that was on him—as his friend, I'd fulfilled my duty.
By the time I finished the Five-way God of Wealth Talisman tattoo, it was already past 2:00 a.m. After a quick wash, Stein and I went to bed.
Around 5:00 a.m., someone started banging on the shop door. Bleary-eyed, I stumbled to answer, ready to chew out whoever dared disturb my sleep before sunrise—not even God would get away with this.
But when I opened the door and saw Stella, my anger vanished instantly. This girl was more formidable than God; I knew better than to mess with her.
"Damn, Stella—it's five in the morning! Don't you have class later? I didn't sleep until after two!" I grumbled.
"You think I want to be here this early?" Stella yawned, just as sleep-deprived as me. "Check what day it is."
I glanced at my phone's calendar—and immediately woke up completely.
The fifteenth. Today was the day to collect morning dew.
With the dew and the Corpse-Vanishing Talisman, we could finally abort Chloe's Corpse-Fetus!
But after being threatened by Nuwa's Forsaken Shade last time, Chloe hadn't been in great shape. I wondered how she was holding up now.
"Let's go. We need to find Chloe and gather the dew." I grabbed Stella and headed straight for Chloe's place.