Arknights: The Life Inside-Chapter 99

Two days later.

"Boom!"

A muffled sound echoed from the door, followed by Ergou's furious yell.

"Ifrit! Why did you kick the ball again? I told you not to step on it!"

"Oh come on, what's the big deal? I'll have Yo-Yo buy them a new one, okay?"

Amidst the noise outside, Snowsant lazily turned over on the sofa, buried her head into the corner cushions, and drifted back to sleep.

Yoren sat behind the boss's desk, looking completely deflated.

"Nancy, how much money do we have left?"

Nancy, holding a steaming cup of herbal tea, took a slow sip.

"11,654. And that's the fourth time you've asked me. Oh, and if Ifrit kicks another ball, make that 11,651."

"Oh."

Nancy sat across from Yoren.

"Boss, you said this was going to be an investment company. But judging by how things are going, shouldn't we... do something? At this rate, we'll run ourselves into the ground."

Yoren fell into thought. She was right. Before he could get to those earth-shaking plans of his, they needed to survive first.

Sure, they'd paid rent for a year upfront, and he could still sneak meals at his second uncle's place, but day-to-day expenses weren't going anywhere. He still had to wait for the right time to put his plan with the Fredo Chamber of Commerce into motion—and there was no guarantee it would work, or how long it would take.

Not to mention, once that plan began, he might need to disappear for a while. During that time, he needed Snowsant and the others to at least stay afloat. They didn't need to make a fortune. Just enough not to starve.

Then came the voice at the door.

"Who told you you could open shop here? Boss, come out."

Five or six intimidating men stormed in, the room suddenly thick with tension.

Nancy stood, frowning. "Who are you? We haven't even started doing business yet."

The man in front, bald with a single horn on his head and a bandaged arm in a sling, grinned wickedly.

"You may not be doing business, but I am. Since you're setting up shop here, I came to... discuss cooperation."

Nancy narrowed her eyes. "What kind of cooperation?"

"Simple. You pay 2,000 yuan a month in business fees. We'll keep the area safe. Very simple. Don't pay, and things might get... ugly. I hear this neighborhood has lots of break-ins."

Nancy's voice turned cold. "That's protection money. That's illegal."

The bald man laughed.

"Illegal? Around here, I am the law. So, are you staying open or not?"

"Boss!" Nancy turned and shouted, "Someone's here to collect protection money!"

"Click."

The door locked with a heavy sound. At some point, ACE had returned and silently bolted the door, blocking the only exit.

The bald man blinked, confused. "Why'd you lock the door?"

ACE stood unmoving by the entrance. "It's fine. Our boss is here. Go on. Continue."

The bald man turned, eyes landing on Yoren behind the desk.

He blanched.

"You—"

Yoren stood and walked over, a scowl on his face.

"Seriously? You again? What was it—Cat? Dog?"

"Ah Guang," the man said weakly. "My name's Ah Guang."

Right—Ah Guang, the same thug who tried to muscle in on his uncle's property not long ago. Yoren had broken his arm that day. Since then, he hadn't dared show his face in Area A. Yet somehow, fate had thrown them together again in Area B.

After some awkward apologies, ACE unlocked the door.

It wasn't a big deal. No real grudge. These people just did what they had to do to survive. Of course, now that Ah Guang had crossed Yoren, he'd be skipping a few meals.

Once things calmed down, Ah Guang spoke, clearly trying to stay respectful.

"Brother Yoren, didn't expect you to open a store so soon. Pretty amazing."

Yoren flopped down on the sofa.

"It's nothing. Just broke and trying to survive."

Ah Guang peeked around.

"Mind if I ask... what exactly does your store do? I honestly can't tell."

"It's still under planning. Got any ideas?"

"Well... I'm not smart or anything. I just fight. But I figure—people gotta eat, right? If you really don't know what to do, open a restaurant. People always eat. You can't lose with food."

Yoren shook his head.

"No way. This place cost me 88,000 to rent. That's too expensive for a restaurant. Plus, there's already one across the street."

"So what? You could do something different—hot pot, barbecue, anything. Doesn't have to be the same."

"I'm telling you, I'm not opening a restaurant. I'll figure something else out."

"Alright, alright. Whatever you do, I'll bring my brothers to support you when you open."

"Leave your number, just in case."

"Of course. Just call, I'll come running."

Yoren didn't trust guys like this completely—but sometimes, they were the ones you had to rely on. Even if you were the strong dragon, you couldn't ignore the local snakes. Better to keep things friendly.

—

That afternoon, Yoren gathered everyone at HQ.

"Alright, come on. Meeting time. Everyone gather 'round."

Snowsant sat down next to him. "What meeting are we having?"

Yoren cleared his throat.

"Two things on the agenda. First—we need a name."

No matter how small or big, a company needs a name. Something loud. Something powerful. Something like Enterprise Logistics. Black Steel International. Glasgow Gang. Names with presence.

Ifrit blew a bubble with her gum and shrugged. "What are we calling it then?"

Yoren pulled out a pen and paper.

"Everyone write down one name. I'll pick the best."

One minute later—

"Done? Hand them over."

He laid the four sheets on the table:

Snowsant: [Happy Windmill]

ACE: [Second Generation of Death]

Nancy: [Beautiful Life]

Ifrit: [Burn Those Nasty Bugs]

Yoren's expression darkened.

"What is this? Ifrit, that's not a name, that's a sentence."

"Eh. Call it whatever. Doesn't matter."

Even ACE and Nancy couldn't stop chuckling—only Snowsant remained convinced her choice was perfect.

Yoren sighed. All were rejected.

Everyone looked at him expectantly.

He thought for a long time. In his old world, he had the nickname Huo Yu Yoren, but "Yoren" couldn't be used. "Huo Yu" alone was too one-sided. What if someone called "Water Feather" showed up and put him out?

Red feather, blue feather, green feather—none worked. But if you brought all colors together, they blended into one: black.

Black Feather.

When Yoren wrote it down, the room fell silent.

ACE nodded. "Doesn't sound as tough as Black Steel, but it's more ambitious. I like it."

Nancy smiled. "Black Feather. Easy to say. I hope it helps us fly high."

Ifrit threw her feet on the table. "Sure, whatever. I don't get it anyway."

Only Snowsant whispered sadly, "I still like Happy Windmill..."

But it was decided. The name of their organization would be Black Feather.

Yoren believed that someday, this name would echo through all of South Victoria—then to the North, and beyond.

—

Next up: figuring out what the hell to do.

They needed a project. Cheap, easy to run, safe, local—and idiot-proof. Even Ifrit should be able to handle it.

Everyone brainstormed.

Then Ifrit raised her hand.

"Yes?"

"Let's open a barbecue place!"

Yoren frowned. "No way. A barbecue restaurant's not easy. You need inventory, prep, organization—"

"ACE can handle inventory."

"You still need staff."

"Snowsant can be the waiter."

"Someone needs to handle the money."

"Nancy can do that."

"And who's grilling? That's the hardest part."

Ifrit grinned. "Let's have a long-lost BBQ party!"

—

Three days later.

A fresh sign hung above their door: freewebnøvel.coɱ

Black Feather BBQ Restaurant

As Ah Guang passed by and glanced up, he scratched his head.

"Didn't Brother Yoren say he wasn't opening a restaurant...?"

Meanwhile, in the shadows, the countdown reached its 24th day. Yoren's carefully timed plan was finally ready to begin.

Overnight, his once-messy black hair was shaved clean.

At the Fredo Chamber of Commerce, in front of a mirror, Yoren smiled.

His bald reflection told him everything he needed to know:

It's time.