Tough people fear those even tougher, and the tough fear those with nothing to lose.
Although the street punks who liked hanging out in arcades were usually no-name troublemakers, idiots who came without thinking always seemed to have grave markers growing grass too fast.
Even the dumbest of them, seeing their friends writhing on the floor in pain, realized the boy in front of them wasn't someone to mess with, and he certainly didn't hold back when striking.
So, without hesitation, the group of thugs immediately adopted the most sincere attitude possible and apologized, because they had already realized who dirtied Allen's book. Yes, it was them.
"We are truly sorry, for the loss you've suffered, we offer our deepest apologies. Please forgive us!"
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Allen grinned widely. So this guy was acting all arrogant before, getting my book dirty and then daring to point at me?
Awkward, isn't it? You're fine but taking the blame for someone else's mess?
Facing such sincere apologies from the culprits, Allen found it hard to punish them. He generously waved a hand.
"Alright, it's fine. Just a book. Once you start talking, it's no big deal. We all make mistakes when we're young. The important thing is realizing them and correcting them. Now, go about your business."
The scene was bizarre, a boy of about fifteen lecturing a group of twenty-something-year-olds, who nodded frantically and agreed without hesitation. No one laughed, though a faint sense of grievance lingered in the hearts of those still lying on the floor.
After Allen's little speech, the other group visibly relaxed and quickly turned away, they were just punks hanging around the arcade. They couldn't handle someone who could casually take down a group of people like that.
Those sprawled on the floor naturally had no complaints, some even shrank into corners, trying to minimize their presence.
Allen had no interest in harassing them. These low-tier thugs had neither money nor power; beating them offered no satisfaction. One round was enough, more would be excessive.
Ignoring the pretend-dead group on the floor, Allen walked over to a few machines and knocked on the metal casing.
"Time to go, or we'll be late!"
Reluctantly, the group left the arcade and headed toward a nearby street where wizards could access the Floo Powder network. Along the way, they chatted about the games, prompting Allen to give a few tips. After discussing strategies for a few bosses, the group's admiration grew, and the topic branched off into various directions.
Suddenly, Allen paused and looked around.
"Oh, sorry, I see a public restroom. I'll just stop by."
"I'll go too!"
"Let's go together!"
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Allen wanted to curse, don't these idiots have any sense of caution?
They didn't realize he was clearing tails. He wasn't really going to the restroom, and now this ridiculous "team" was tagging along.
Fine, if it makes you happy. Allen sulkily dropped to the back of the group, and, unsurprisingly, was intercepted.
A middle-aged man in a suit blocked his path. No visible brand, but he looked handsome and, judging by his suit, likely well-off.
Allen respected someone who came all this way, handing him a lunchbox without a word would have been rude.
Unfortunately, the man didn't waste time with pleasantries. He threw a punch at Allen's stomach, which Allen easily dodged. Good, you moved first. Don't blame me for not holding back.
Before Allen could retaliate, the man smiled with satisfaction and pulled a thick white envelope from his pocket, handing it to Allen. Allen instantly recognized it by feel, Japanese yen.
"Excellent kid, you reacted perfectly for your age! Take this money as a settling-in fee. Spend it as you like. Report to our club at 9 a.m. tomorrow!"
Wait… what?
Allen had seen plenty of thugs before, but this level of efficiency was new. Back in the day, he'd had to fight just to reach consensus with others at night. And today, money was handed over so smoothly, it was impressive.
Feeling good about the cash, Allen asked, "Aren't you worried I'll run off with it?"
Without turning, the man's cool, handsome voice replied,
"Ha, there aren't many in this city who'd take our money and run, especially a foreigner like you!"
Watching the man walk away, Allen eagerly opened the envelope. Perfect. No small bills, all high denominations. He didn't know the exchange rate yet, but that didn't matter, Gringotts had branches in Japan.
With another "good guy card" issued, Allen smiled as he stepped into the restroom. The group outside continued grumbling, wondering where he had gone.
"Allen, what took so long?"
"Nothing much. Just met a good man and had a friendly exchange." Allen handed out another "good guy card" without hesitation.
As for tomorrow's appointment?
Heh. Come to Mahoutokoro and find me, if you do, we'll see what happens!
Soon, Allen and his group arrived at the local teleportation hub. Inside a modest room was a Ministry official, hair streaked with white but neatly kept, looking sharp and energetic, no sign of being exiled to some remote outpost.
To handle such a thankless job so cheerfully was admirable, though this wasn't a wizard-heavy area, maintaining the Floo Powder network here required skill and dedication.
Unfortunately, Allen's admiration didn't last. Being the last to enter, he saw a few sneaky faces in the mirror, spying on the courtyard.
"Cough, cough… seems you've caused a little trouble, but don't worry, it'll be taken care of soon," the old wizard said gently.
Allen noticed, though, that the man's left thumb was constantly rubbing against his middle and index fingers.
Alright, maybe this place is remote, but there's definitely potential here!