Play Test: Stuck in Another World as a Reality TV Contestant

Cage Fight​

There was a cat on the roof above us, lazily wishing death on every bird it could perceive. The longing grew more intense as the birds flew nearer, which was to be expected, but also lazier in equal measure. For cats, I'd noticed, the desire to kill was forever at war with the desire to nap; I found that oddly relatable. You'd think that being able to sense the constant and universal feline affinity for murder would have made me like them less, but on the contrary, I was never more sure that they were God's creatures. When people wanted to kill, it was always steeped in some tiresome psychodrama that existed in a complex context I couldn't read. Cats just loved killing. It was pure and stupid, and I loved them for that.

Paying half a mind to the stray cat on the roof made it easier to sell my act as a fight-brained meathead. Partially present was ideal for me; I wanted the Cranes to be overt in their machinations. I knew too little about the state of the Underworld to do more than react tonight.

Compared to the Yakuza's private room at Tamaki Grille, the atmosphere on the sixth floor of the Kingfisher was jovial and open. At Tamaki, the unspoken rules forbade even stray eye contact, let alone out-of-turn conversation. Here, it wasn't long before people stopped by our table to make small talk, comment on my bottomless stomach, and check in on how I had been doing since moving out of the neighborhood. Everyone was friendly and polite, in their own ways at least, but the rumors about my love life and conflict with the Tigers were spreading, and people were understandably curious. I pretended to miss the subtext, acting distracted by literally distracting myself with the cute kitty livestream in my brain.

[Meal Bonus!]

Reduce incoming Damage of all types by 1 for the next 24 hours.

Add Successes equal to your Injury Threshold to your next Recovery Check.

I sighed with relief at the message. Finally, I was worried Edie would pass out if it took any longer to digest dinner. I had accelerated my metabolism higher than ever before, trying to power through food as soon as it hit my stomach, converting it directly into energy through Fire-Qi alone. On the night of the Exorcism, I had hours to kill between the meal and our hunt, and I'd still gotten warm enough that Maki needed at least a foot of space to stay comfortable. Tonight, not only did I not have as much time to metabolize the meal, but I was stronger and capable of burning significantly hotter. My body temperature had risen high enough that people a few tables down were sweating profusely, and my friends had taken to chugging ice water at a marathon pace.

Luckily, most were taking it as a part of the show, the in-person mukbang I was putting on for them. Watching me shovel down the entire menu like I was Goku was entertaining enough to tolerate the heat, and the heat itself was a rare display of superhuman prowess right out of a carnival act. It suited me to be tomorrow's comedic anecdote they could mention any time someone asked how the Crane dinner went. I wanted, 'Did you hear James ordered the entire menu at the Crane event? What a cad!' and not, 'James Li accepted the Crane invite – what do you think it could mean?'.

"Hey, everyone!" I said to the room with a goofy smile. "I'm finished digesting the entrees!" There was a loud applause and cheer from the tables nearest. "Who thinks I should try the desserts?"

I laughed at the mix of groans and shouts of encouragement. "Hm, pretty mixed level of enthusiasm from the crowd. What do you guys think?"

Cory threw his hands in the air. "Bro, what do you mean? You got to do the whole circuit now! A'least one of e'rything on the menu, namsayin'?"

"Shut up, Cory." Jewel kicked him in the ribs with the pointed toe of her shoe. "James, baby, I love hot yoga as much as the next girl, but unless we're skipping right to where you wrap my ankles behind my head, I'm vetoing another round. We haven't danced to a single song, and my watch says I'm in zone 3 cardio. Edie might actually die!"

The blonde shook her head weakly. "I'm wine—uh, fine with whatever," she slurred. She had gone through about six kalimotxos before switching over to exclusively water, and the drinks had not mixed well with the extreme heat.

I patted Edie's arm reassuringly. "It's all good, lol. I was just joking. We can head out whenever you guys are ready."

"Aw, bummer," said Cory. "I'll let 'em know, though."

Jewel slapped the table with both hands and sank back in her chair with a long, tired breath. "Thank fuck, that was brutal. No offense, James; I'm just not cut out for that sort of endurance challenge. Come on, Edie, I need to use the bathroom."

"O-okay, sure."

"Hang on, let me borrow her for one sec, Jewel." I frowned at the tall blonde; she was in a rough shape, worse than I'd realized.

My initial plan had been to reveal none of my abilities outside of those that had already been publicized. Anyone who mattered already knew about the whole fire tornado thing, so it was fine to show off something related and minor, like the accelerated metabolism trick. If anything, I wanted my enemies to associate me with a mastery over Fire. Fire was terrifying. Erotic sorcery, on the other hand, beyond being a bit embarrassing to know, was supposed to be one of the aces up my sleeve.

But it was my only way of quickly helping Edie, and she was in bad need of it. Wasn't this the whole point of a honeypot, i.e., making me feel bad for a pretty girl and revealing information I otherwise wouldn't? Yes – however, I had a plan. If I did this correctly, I'd get way more than I gave in the long run. For my reverse honeypot to work, I needed the Cranes to keep Edie assigned to me, and if I didn't give her something actionable, she'd be replaced with someone more competent. Edie was an amateur, and I was a semi-professional actor; I could lie to her. That wouldn't be guaranteed with her replacement.

I scooched my chair over to hers and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "I've been working on some secret pressure point techniques. They can help with the heat and the drink, but you'll have to promise to keep them to yourself, yeah?"

As close as I was to her and as drunk as she was, it was easy to discern her emotions; the system even gave me a bonus Die on the Insight check. My seven lucky Successes were revelatory. Edie experienced, before anything else, a deep release of fear, the same fear that had been rising in her since seeing me at the tailor's. Not only had she, in her mind, completed her assigned task for the night, but she'd avoided whatever terrifying consequences of failure they had leveraged against her. Then came guilt, which was nice to see – it meant she wasn't a total sociopath, at least. And finally came a second, smaller relief at potentially not having to be so physically miserable right now.

"Yes, of course," she lied.

"Alright, but don't judge me. I didn't put the pressure points where they are, I just discovered the things, alright? This might hurt, by the way. Bear with it."

I'd anticipated an Acting check, but it appeared I didn't need one. The Happy Idiot and my himbo act had bamboozled her to where she wasn't trying to scrutinize my words.

My hand reached between Edie's legs and grabbed hold of her inner thigh, so far up that my knuckles brushed against her silken underwear. The act was hidden by my chair and the tablecloth, but she gave the game away by squeaking and reflexively grabbing my wrist, hunching slightly over my arm. There was a small series of gasps from the tables around us – ah, well, more grist for the rumor mill. The Producers had assured me that being known as a sexual deviant would only benefit me in the long run. I wasn't sure how, but I was tentatively taking their word for it.

I dug my fingers in at random locations on her thigh, even using my pinky to poke her other leg to sell it better. The placements were meaningless; I wasn't going for pressure points. Instead, I converted the pain of my grip into pleasure through Slut-making Strikes. With that jolt of sexual energy, I rolled an Erotic Sorcery to wrap some of my Qi up and send it into her dantian, allowing her to make an immediate Recovery Check. It was one of the simplest uses of the Skill, and I did well enough to grant the relatively frail mortal the additional Dice necessary to make the Check count.

Edie threw her head back and moaned very loudly, a healthy color returning to her face before immediately being replaced by a scarlet red of total humiliation as she realized what she'd done. I let go of her leg, patting her knee and putting a hand on her back.

"Feel better?" I whispered. She nodded quickly, not trusting her voice just yet. "A secret, right?"

Edie studied my face and my innocent smile – the system forced the Acting check I'd anticipated earlier. She turned and looked away, guilty and ashamed, fooled utterly by my mere three Successes. I almost felt bad for her. A barely audible "Yes" escaped her lips.

"Cool," I said. To Jewel, I added, "She's all yours."

Cory gave me a huge, shit-eating grin after the girls left. "You are a dog, brother. Hahaha! Can't take you nowhere—oi, hey. You alright? What's up?"

I had frozen with my mouth open. The cat on the roof stopped caring about the birds and, all at once had directed every bit of its murderous feline rage down towards something in this room before sprinting out of my sense's range. Worse still, the killing desire had been colored by existential dread, not something I felt often in animals.

I scanned the room, trying to find anyone or anything out of place. They said that cats and dogs were in tune with the spirit realm; presumably, something had come close enough for the stray to feel it and respond with all-consuming, hateful terror. Unfortunately for me, all I'd been able to get from the cat was a broad direction and the idea of a singular entity.

It had to be someone or something new. Two men were pushing around a drink cart of complimentary champagne flutes – had I seen either of them earlier? I couldn't tell. Dr. He, the dentist, and his new, young wife were being seated, but somehow I doubted either of them could be involved. There was a different hostess now too, deferentially greeting an elderly white man and his wife. It was a strange time for a shift change; the restaurant had only been open for a few hours.

But it was the elderly man who stuck out. He was hitting the villain checkmarks hard: He had an ornate cane with a golden ram's head that appeared to be purely decorative since he was walking fine. He had instantly turned to nod at me with a look of dismissive half-interest as though he could sense my gaze on him. And his wife was wearing a long mink stole. Granted, that last one had nothing to do with him, but she looked like a lady who would marry a villain.

"Yo. James."

"Huh?" I said, slipping back into my role. I'd just have to stay vigilant for now. "What's up?"

"You good, homie? What was that?"

I leaned forward, chewing on my bottom lip. "Hey, man, you don't think anyone here's going to tell Ma I was touching on a girl in public, do you?"

Cory laughed. "Bruh, think about that shit before you do it. Got damn, bro!"

"Nah, think about how much less fun life would be if we did that."

"True dat." He dapped me up before checking his phone. "Aight, we Gucci. They ready to meetcha. Shit, dog, I'm excited for this. You 'bout to make some money moves, James."

"Nice. Hey, Cori, who's that rich white guy that just walked in, by the way?"

Cory craned his neck to look and jerked it back, clearing his throat. Oho, was that fear in his eyes? Had I found my man? "Eh, some hedge fund guy, I think. Don't know him personally, only seen him around." He stood up, cutting off any further questions. "Chill here for a bit. Ima tip out Mary and take a piss."

Hopefully it wasn't that obvious when I tried to get out of a conversation. "Sure. Think about me when you're shaking it off."

"Gah! Nasty, bro. What's wrong with you?"

"Just looking out for you, man. No one likes a damp spot."

"Ugh! What the fuck, James. Hahaha! You know what? You right, you right. That's my bad. I appreciate ya, homie."

"Anytime."

See, Cory, that's how you defuse someone's interest. Amateur.

All I could think about on the way to the meeting was how done I was with today. I was counting the minutes until I could get out of this godforsaken building and back to my dark, concrete hidey-hole in Harbor Hill. Fuck the reverse honeypot, I'd done enough by healing Edie earlier. My Social Feats would needle into hers and Jewel's minds, and I could cash in later, after they'd had a few James-themed dreams to soften them up. I had a date tomorrow with two girls who weren't trying to ensnare me in a criminal conspiracy anyway. As soon as I could get some actionable information about the Tigers, I was out of here.

The longer I had to consider whatever Lesser Evil had scared the cat away, the more impatient I became. I did not want to care about it. The Hungry Ghost had nearly killed me, and that had been with years of preparation from Maki and the Tutorial Rules being active. If the Cranes had their own equivalent of the Egui haunting their new fortress, then they could deal with it themselves, the bastards.

Lot of innocents here, my conscience murmured unhelpfully as we passed a few waiters.

So what? The Cranes were literally charging protection money from the majority of them.

Shit, wait, that made it way more likely the Evil was an outside threat here to destabilize things. I'd been sort of hoping they were just keeping one as a pet. Still, these assholes, what would they have done if I hadn't come?

But you did come, said my conscience.

I frowned. It was true. Responsibility and blame counted after the fact, for now, what mattered was that I had come.

Heh, come, added the Happy Idiot.

Jewel tapped me on the temple. "What's going on up there? Nervous?"

"I was thinking about coming," I answered honestly.

"Cool. I've been thinking about that too."

The sounds of pumping dance music were felt more than heard as the private elevator we were in descended, the club's subwoofers penetrating whatever insulation they had and vibrating the car from below. I had no idea how many floors the elevator had access to. Unlike the one we'd taken to the sixth floor, this one was operated entirely from somewhere else by the building's security. There wasn't an emergency key for firefighters on the inside, nor had there been a button to call it or even a visible door on the outside; an inconspicuous section of wall had simply slid open as we approached.

We exited onto a mezzanine lounge and private bar above the nightclub, which could be seen from the floor-to-ceiling glass on one side of the level. The music was coming through its own speakers at a more reasonable, conversational volume than what could be felt shaking the building from below, the room's thick, probably bulletproof glass doing some work. Opposite the windows was a wall full of the sort of art that I expected to see in a Crane fortress, thousand-year-old vases, ink paintings, calligraphed poems, and other assorted decorations, all related in some way to red-crowned cranes, Immortals, or Hunan. Upstairs, the décor had been bird-themed but generic; here, they hadn't bothered with plausible deniability. If you made it into this lounge, the Cranes wanted you to know exactly whose house you were in.

Cory stepped in and bowed to a plain-looking man in glasses and a simple tuxedo. Speaking over the music in extremely formal Xiang, he said, "Mr. Mao, I've brought James Li." In English, he added, "James, this is my superior, Joseph Mao. He's been working on ways to help you out with the Tiger situation."

Mao shook my hand. He had dark bags under his eyes and a naturally tired set to his shoulders that told of overwork and undersleep. "James Li, Cory has told me much about you."

I smirked. "Anything good?"

"Exclusively, Mr. Li. Your friend thinks very highly of you."

"Nice." I slapped Cory on the shoulder. "Thanks for leaving out all the bad shit, bro."

Cory code switched without missing a beat. "Nah, dog, you only bad like the baddest bitch alive, ya feel me? Or like, uh, what was that one song you showed me, Mr. Mao? With that old pedo dude. You know what I'm talkin' about, James?"

My Alan half really felt his age right now. "What, man. Do you mean Michael Jackson's 'Bad'?"

"Uhh, maybe?"

Mao sighed the long sigh of a man who'd been forced to tolerate Cory Ning on a daily basis for several years; I knew it too well. "Yes, Cory, you were thinking of the song 'Bad' by Michael Jackson."

"Oh, word? That's tight."

"Mm. Why don't you and the girls help yourselves to a few drinks while I show James to his meeting? Mr. Li, if you would please follow me. While I would help you personally if I could, I am a logistics man. You will need to discuss solutions to your problem with leadership."

"Okay! See you ladies in a minute!"

Jewel blew me a kiss. "Keep us in your thoughts!"

"Good luck!" added a rejuvenated Edie.