They Called Me Trash? Now I'll Hack Their World Chapter 114: Maybe I could Use Some Luck!

I’d spent the last three days doing the sa thing.

Walking through Greyford’s districts with my debug vision active, scanning faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of either Agnes or Gerald.

So far? Nothing.

Well, not nothing. I’d found four more won nad Agnes. A baker’s assistant, two housemaids in different districts, and an elderly woman who ran a small textile shop. None of them were the Agnes I was looking for.

And Gerald remained completely absent. No stalls. No hooded figures appearing in alleys. No cryptic rchants offering impossible items.

Like he’d just vanished into thin air.

I sat on a bench near the central fountain, watching the afternoon crowd flow past. rchants called out their wares, children chased each other around the fountain’s edge, couples walked arm in arm through the plaza.

Normal. Peaceful. Completely unhelpful.

My MP was holding steady. The enhanced scanning didn’t cost much anymore with my increased capacity and the Mana Reservoir passive constantly refilling my reserves.

But the ntal exhaustion of looking at hundreds of faces every day was starting to wear on .

This is inefficient.

I’d basically been wandering randomly, hoping to stumble onto the right person through sheer luck. Which was stupid. Greyford was massive, easily tens of thousands of people. Finding one specific person without a better system was like looking for a particular grain of sand on a beach.

I leaned back against the bench, staring up at the sky.

Also, I hadn’t seen Scarlet since that first eting three days ago.

Either she’s actually working on it, or she took my coins and ran.

Fifty-fifty odds at this point.

I pulled out the empty vial from my pocket, turning it over in my hands. The glass caught the sunlight, refracting it into small rainbows across my palm.

The proof that Gerald had existed. That the encounter had been real.

So why can’t I find any trace of him?

I’d checked the alley where we’d t, but it was empty. No residual magic that my debug vision could detect. No signs anyone had ever set up shop there.

I’d asked rchants in the area if they’d seen anyone matching Gerald’s description. Middle-aged man, brown robes, rchant’s stall selling rare items.

Blank stares and shaken heads. Every single ti.

It’s like he was never there.

Except he was. The potion worked. My rank increased from E to D. The system confird everything.

My mind kept circling back to one explanation.

A one-ti event.

Like in gas. Those special encounters that only triggered once under specific conditions. You miss them, you can’t go back. The NPC disappears, the shop vanishes, the quest becos unavailable.

But that didn’t sit right with . People didn’t just disappear because you’d finished interacting with them.

Unless they were never ant to be found again in the first place.

I pocketed the vial again, frustration building in my chest.

So what the hell am I supposed to do?

Then suddenly, a commotion near the fountain made look up.

A street perforr was being harassed by a group of young n. They’d ford a loose circle around him, laughing, jeering. One of them held sothing just out of the perforr’s reach, dangling it like bait.

His instrunt. A lute or sothing similar, the wood polished from years of use.

The perforr was maybe in his thirties, thin and weathered in the way street musicians often were. His clothes were patched but clean, his face desperate as he reached for the instrunt.

"Please, I need that to work—"

The young n laughed harder.

Nobles, judging by their clothing. Expensive fabrics, tailored cuts, the kind of casual arrogance that ca from never facing consequences.

Five of them. All around seventeen or eighteen, that perfect age where you thought you were invincible and the world owed you entertainnt.

Guards stood nearby at the plaza’s edge. Watching. Doing nothing.

Of course. The kids are probably from important families. Guards won’t intervene unless it gets violent.

And maybe not even then.

I watched for another mont, weighing whether to get involved.

Not my problem.

I’ve got enough problems.

I stood and started walking away, angling toward one of the side streets.

Then stopped.

Wait...

My mind caught on sothing. A possibility.

Gerald appeared out of nowhere. Gave an impossible potion. Then vanished.

What if that wasn’t random? What if it was triggered by sothing I did?

And what if other events work the sa way?

I turned back, studying the scene with new eyes.

In gas, helping NPCs almost always worked in your favor. Side quests. Hidden rewards. Reputation gains. Sotis the most random encounter led to the best loot.

This could be nothing. Just five assholes harassing a street perforr.

Or it could be sothing.

A trigger? A chance at finding Gerald or Agnes or so other lead I desperately needed.

Worth the risk?

Not like these brats will actually do sothing with Victor still in the town. Though our history aside, he is quite famous around here, and yes, mostly many nobles don’t want to ss with him. Due to him having a high position in Ashfeld knights.

Just ntioning his na could get out of the trouble, right?

I hope so. So, I started moving through the crowd toward the commotion.

The young noble holding the instrunt was tall and well-built, with dark hair. His clothes were deep burgundy, expensive enough to feed a family for a month. He had a sharp, handso face that would’ve been more appealing if it wasn’t twisted into an arrogant smirk.

"Play us a song, street rat," he was saying, tossing the lute up and catching it carelessly. "Maybe if it’s good enough, we’ll give it back."

"Please," the perforr said, his voice cracking. "That instrunt is all I have. I can’t afford another—"

"Then you should take better care of it." The boy tossed it higher this ti, making the perforr flinch. "Wouldn’t want it to break, would we?"

His friends laughed.

I stepped between them and the perforr.

"That’s enough."

The noble’s smirk faltered, replaced by irritation. "Excuse ? Who the hell are you?"

"Nobody important." I held out my hand, keeping my voice level. "Give him back his instrunt."

The noble’s friends shifted, closing ranks around their leader. Trying to look threatening.

There were five of them now that I was closer. All around my age or slightly older, all dressed like they’d never worked a day in their lives.

"Or what?" The one holding the instrunt stepped closer, his jaw tight. "You’ll fight all of us? For so street perforr?"

I t his eyes steadily, not backing down but not escalating either.

Just waiting.

Let him make the choice.

For a mont, I thought he might actually try it. His free hand clenched into a fist, pride warring with common sense on his face.

Then one of his friends, a shorter boy with nervous eyes, grabbed his arm.

"Co on, Derrick. It’s not worth it. Your father will be pissed if we cause a scene in the plaza."

Derrick’s jaw tightened further. He glared at for another long second, weighing his options.

Then he tossed the instrunt, not toward the perforr, but at .

I caught it easily.

"Keep the trash," Derrick spat, already turning away. "Both of you deserve each other."

His friends followed, still laughing, already moving on to their next source of entertainnt like this had been nothing more than a montary distraction.

I watched them go, making sure they were actually leaving.

Then I turned and held out the instrunt to the perforr.

He took it with trembling hands, checking it over imdiately for damage. His fingers ran across the strings, the wood, the tuning pegs.

Relief flooded his face when he found everything intact.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice thick. "You didn’t have to do that. They could have hurt you—"

"It’s fine." I was already turning to leave, scanning the crowd for any sign that this had triggered sothing, anything.

Nothing.

No system notification.

Just a street perforr clutching his lute and strangers going about their day.

So much for that theory.

"Wait." The perforr’s hand caught my sleeve. "Please."

I stopped, looking back.

He reached into his pocket with one hand, still holding the lute protectively with the other, and pulled out sothing small.

He pressed it into my palm before I could refuse.

"As thanks."

I looked down.

A small wooden token, roughly carved but smooth from handling. There was a symbol etched into one side, so kind of circular pattern I didn’t recognize.

"What is this?"

"Good luck charm," the perforr said, smiling despite the tears still wet on his cheeks. "My grandmother made it. She said it brings fortune to those who help others."

I turned the token over in my fingers.

Yeah, sure. Magic luck charm from a street perforr’s grandmother. Like it will solve all my problems.

But I pocketed it anyway. No point in refusing when he’d already given it.

"Thanks."

He nodded, clutching his instrunt close to his chest like soone might try to take it again.

Then he hurried away, disappearing into the crowd before Derrick and his friends could co back.

I stood there for a mont, alone again in the flowing masses of people.

That was stupid.

Getting involved for nothing Just a wooden token that probably did exactly nothing.

But looking at where the perforr had disappeared, I found I didn’t regret it.

Small thing. Barely cost anything.

But it mattered to him.

I started walking again, aimless, my thoughts already drifting back to the impossible task of finding Agnes in a city of thousands.

Three days down.

How much ti do I actually have?

The wooden token felt warm in my pocket.

Maybe the old woman was right.

Maybe I could use so luck.