Directing the five little idiots, Jin oversaw the kitchen cleanup, grumbling internally as he scrubbed dishes. Where was his husband to rescue him from this life of hard labor? His mother had always insisted that all three of her children learn basic household skills so they wouldn’t be looked down on by potential partners in the future. Fair or not, Jin had been stuck with the brunt of it.
His older brother, six years ahead, conveniently developed a sudden passion for after-school activities once Jin was old enough to hold a sponge. His younger brother, three years his junior, had initially idolized him—much to Jin’s annoyance. At the time, being a “big boy” meant having a clingy little brother constantly underfoot was a hassle. Naturally, Jin tried to offload his chores onto him, but their mother nipped that idea in the bud. What was the point of having an annoying younger sibling if you couldn’t even make them do your chores?
As they cleaned the kitchen to a shine, the system either had a moment of generosity or laid a clever trap. Coins started appearing in random pots and pans, reminding Jin of that one game where you smashed pots for currency. Stuffing the coins into his pocket, Jin devised yet another experiment. Playing the role of the benevolent overseer, he announced the discovery to the five little idiots, instructing them to stack the coins together on the workbench.
The group’s first instinct, of course, was to pocket the loot. Jin quickly “reminded” them that these coins could very well be cursed, placed there to prevent their escape from the instance. With the door still sealed, the reminder stuck.
By the time the kitchen sparkled and the sun’s light bled through the now-pristine windows, Jin was convinced at least one developer had way too much time to waste on unnecessary graphics. The door clicked open at last, and Shin bolted toward it like a man possessed, only to bounce right off the entering barkeep.
The burly man clapped his hands together, surveying the room with a grin.
“Aye, aye, this will do. One meal each and a drink. Payment’s fair.”
Jin had deliberately refrained from mentioning payment earlier, and now he found himself the target of five angry glares. Smiling sweetly, he emptied his pockets, piling the coins on the workbench.
“Good sir, we found these coins while cleaning. It’s only right they’re returned to you.”
The NPC stroked his beard, ignoring Shin, who was still sitting on the floor, rubbing his backside.
“Well, would you look at that. I’d have never known. Such honest folk! Tell you what—I’ll make it fair. One copper coin each. Take a coin, and you can enjoy your meal and drink in the dining room.”
So it had been a clever system test. Jin collected five coins, making each motion deliberately clear, and handed them out one by one. Yuto blinked up at him.
“It’s really over?”
“It is. Why don’t you go first? You worked hard.”
Jin didn’t trust any of them not to have pocketed extra coins, but he wasn’t about to cause a scene. He half-expected Shin to scramble up and demand to go first, but it seemed Shin’s self-preservation instincts outweighed his ego. Instead, Shin licked his lips nervously and nodded.
“Off you go, Yuto. Show us it’s safe.”
Yuto ignored Shin, his eyes on Jin. If the five little idiots hadn’t already pissed him off to no end, Jin might’ve been happy to see one of them finally showing a shred of intelligence.
“Go on. I’ll go last,” Jin said.
Yuto hesitated, even as the barkeeper stepped aside to make room. After a moment’s pause, Yuto bolted through the open door, disappearing immediately from view.
With Yuto gone, Shin got to his feet. Rei seized the chance to slip past and quickly followed Yuto. Before Haruto could move, Seiichiro grabbed his arm.
“Wait your turn. Shin is next.”
Shin shot Seiichiro an angry look.
“You’re next. I’ll go after you.”
“No, no. We need to get you out safely.”
“No, I insist.”
It was clear a fight was about to break out. Before it could escalate, Haruto shook off Seiichiro’s grip and made a break for the door. Either because three of the little idiots had already escaped or because he didn’t want to be left alone with Shin, Seiichiro darted forward—only to smack face-first into an invisible barrier.
The barkeeper’s face darkened, his form seeming to grow a foot taller.
“You dare to steal from me?”
Seiichiro froze, looking like a frightened quail. Quickly, he pulled a small pile of coins from his pocket and shoved them at the barkeeper, who didn’t take them. Panic filled Seiichiro’s face. If he hadn’t been useful later, Jin wouldn’t have stepped in.
“Keep the one coin I gave you and put the rest on the table,” Jin said evenly. “You must’ve forgotten to put everything in the pile when you were done.”
Seiichiro nodded quickly, tripping over himself as he piled the coins on the table.
“I did! I’m sorry, boss! I forgot! I promise I’m sorry! I’m not stealing!”
Mentally, Jin rolled his eyes. Seiichiro wasn’t stealing only because he’d been caught. Subconsciously, Jin’s opinion of the first three little idiots rose slightly.
Not so covertly, Shin’s face paled. Clearly realizing he couldn’t leave with the coins in his pocket, he bowed low and started talking fast.
“Boss! Boss! I have some too! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I put them in my pocket so I wouldn’t lose them while I was cleaning and forgot!”
If Jin had his phone, he would’ve been recording Shin’s groveling for future amusement. He’d never heard Shin beg like this before—except for that one time when he’d overheard him pleading not to be dumped. That overheard conversation alone had given Jin enough happy thoughts for a week.
Hurriedly, Shin added his coins to the pile, giving the barkeeper six shallow bows before rushing out the door. Not wanting to be left behind, Seiichiro scrambled after him.
Jin didn’t bother pretending any longer and followed the five little idiots out of the instance.
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