Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

They moved to Tristan's hotel suite. That was as private as it got—Angelo accepted nothing less.

Now Tristan sat on a couch, forcing his body language to not show his tension, while Angelo perched on the edge of a chair opposite of him.

"Tristan, do you consider me your friend?"

Tristan raised his brows.

"I thought you were here to speak about your mysterious offer. And by this point, I'm very curious about what it is. What's the secrecy about?"

"You won't answer my question?"

"No." Tristan folded his arms over his chest. "C'mon. You sounded quite excited about it."

Angelo perked up the slightest bit.

"I was. You really understand me well. I am unsure if this is enough for you to agree to this, hence my question. As for my offer—you must create a music band with me."

Thanks to Angelo's monotone delivery, the thing he said didn't even register in Tristan's head immediately. Then…

"What?" He reeled back. "Just like that?"

'That's too problematic! I'm already neck-deep in scheduling problems since I need to keep my second identity up—having a band would multiply it by the amount of band members.'

Tristan had contemplated the idea of a music band before. Having a band gave a lot of advantages, but had a lot of disadvantages, too.

At the very least, he had to find people he could trust, like he could trust his subordinates in the criminal world. Except, in the criminal world, he could terrify untrustworthy people until they abandoned the last thought of betrayal.

In show business, that could give him a lot of bad PR.

"Yes," Angelo said. "You are a man who values music as much as I do. I hope dearly that you understand how important it is to create the best of it we could. I don't want to be a public person, but it's a sacrifice I'm ready to make for the sake of music."

Tristan stared at the man, abandoning his cool and composed mask.

"Does that really require a band? You can just compose songs. I'd gladly record them with you."

"No. That's something I thought about for a while—that music must be heard by as many people as possible. Someone like you must bring it to people, live." He paused. "You and me, Tristan. And other talented and worthy enough people, possibly."

Tristan shook his head wordlessly.

If there was someone he couldn't trust, it was Angelo with his blank face.

"So you won't agree for the music?"

"No. I'm not interested in creating a band now, or any time soon."

'And my first choice of band member would be Nel, anyway. Damn, I've been so busy because of the gang business that we barely hung out even before I went to LA again. I wonder what his opinion on Angelo's idea would be.'

Angelo nodded.

"Will you agree for friendship, then?"

Tristan narrowed his eyes.

"I don't think we are such great pals, Angelo."

"I was afraid you would say something like that. Then, will you agree so I don't spread a story about your bribery in the Californian Young Star contest?"

Outwardly, Tristan just stared coolly, with just enough fearsomeness put into it to make a person nervous.

Inwardly, Tristan gaped at the man's shamelessness.

'He really went all in on this offer! From friendship straight to blackmail! Did he genuinely consider me a friend at all, or does he think that his obsession is more important? But he must've planned this from the start—it's why he wanted to be somewhere private, I bet!'

Angelo was silent, too. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but Tristan hoped he was sweating on the inside.

"Your blackmail sucks," he finally said with a dark, hard glare at Angelo. "You have no proof and no support. If you even try, then first, I will make sure that every major news outlet speaks about your envy-motivated slander. Second, I will bring you into court for said slander. You will be bankrupt before you can say, 'sorry'."

Angelo blinked.

Tristan suddenly realized that he wasn't blinking at all for the last minute.

Now his hands began shaking on his knees, too.

Angelo's breathing sped up. There was more blinking.

Frowning, Tristan leaned forward.

Angelo wasn't even looking at him anymore, just staring into space and… hyperventilating?

Without any more warning, Angelo just slid off the couch onto the floor, hugged his knees and hid his face between them.

Normally, Tristan wouldn't feel strange that someone had a total mental breakdown like that because he scared them. It happened before.

But right now, his system was strangely quiet. Either it also glitched with Angelo, or Angelo wasn't actually scared of Tristan and the breakdown was for another reason.

Angelo calmed down a minute later, before Tristan could start actually worrying.

He raised a blank face at Tristan. There wasn't a sign of the breakdown—except for Angelo's pose.

"I apologize deeply. I know you must dislike me now, and the music will stay unrealized. It was my fault for taking the wrong approach in convincing you. I wasn't actually about to slander you, although I know it doesn't matter if I was."

Tristan shook his head.

"Do you even know what actual friends are? Certainly not people who blackmail each other."

Angelo slowly stood up.

"You were my first friend ever, Tristan, but I thought the music was more important. I'm not sure anymore."

'That man… Damn it! I should just tell him to get the hell away from me. But he's too good as a musician to not use his talents. And perhaps if I keep him around for longer, I will eventually crack his head open. Maybe feed him some truth serum…'

This felt like an absolutely wrong decision—but for the music, it was right.

"You know what? You can still record music with me in the future, Angelo. No band, of course—only sound. But try this shit of yours again, and you are done."

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