Chapter 19: Self-Justification

Open the system panel and enter the character section.

Looking at the five characters presented by the system, Kamikawa Mitsu didn’t even glance at the others—his gaze landed directly on one.

[Supporting Character One]: Mori Takeshi

Skills: Martial Arts LV7, Firearms LV5, Swordsmanship LV6.

Kamikawa Mitsu had considered the skill selection.

Five characters.

One of them was a useless character.

The remaining four had selectable skills; Kamikawa Mitsu prioritized Mori Takeshi’s skill set, all of which were combat-oriented.

With the original owner’s memories, Kamikawa Mitsu understood the reason for the suicide.

There were three reasons.

First, his parents died early, forcing him to shoulder family burdens too soon.

Second, finances: due to his parents’ early death, as a high school student, he had no stable income, leading to financial hardship and a miserable life.

Third… school bullying.

His incomplete family and his attractive appearance made him a target for bullies at school.

Because of his incomplete family…

The bullies knew that no matter how much he was abused, no one would stand up for him—after all, isn’t it parents who love their children most?

Without parents, he lost his greatest shield.

From the original owner’s memories of school,

Kamikawa Mitsu found not a single happy or beautiful memory.

Only pain and suffering remained.

Being mocked, insulted, extorted, beaten, and forced to run errands—these were the original owner’s daily school memories.

Each time he probed these memories, Kamikawa Mitsu’s deep eyes grew icy.

He understood clearly.

The death of the original owner’s parents and his financial hardship had overwhelmed his mind.

School bullying inflicted deep psychological wounds, magnifying them until they drove him down the path of suicide—a road of utter despair.

Ultimately,

The school bullies were the primary cause of the original owner’s suicide.

Facing school bullying, Kamikawa Mitsu was not the original owner—he would not choose compromise or submission.

“With Mori Takeshi’s skills, I won’t need another method to solve the problems the original owner faced at school.”

Kamikawa Mitsu spoke these words.

His eyes were calm, chillingly so.

“System, exchange for Mori Takeshi’s skills.”

A cold voice issued from Kamikawa Mitsu’s lips.

Ding! Consumed 420 script points, acquired Mori Takeshi’s character skills.

Instantly, Kamikawa Mitsu felt his body grow stronger, his mind flooded with vast knowledge of martial arts, firearms, and swordsmanship.

He looked again at the system panel.

Host: Kamikawa Mitsu

Physical Composite Value: 70

Skills: Martial Arts LV7, Firearms LV5, Swordsmanship LV6.

Script Points: 3580 points

The skill section of the system panel was no longer empty—it now displayed three new skills.

He clenched his fist.

Kamikawa Mitsu realized his body had grown stronger.

“It must be due to acquiring the Martial Arts and Swordsmanship skills.”

He wasn’t overly surprised by the physical enhancement—this was simple logic: strength in martial arts and swordsmanship directly correlates with physical power.

“Hm?”

Before he could examine his bodily changes, his gaze fell on the script points displayed on the system panel.

“To acquire Mori Takeshi’s skills, I spent 420 points? That much?”

On average, each skill cost 140 script points.

On NH137, acquiring a LV10 driving skill cost only 100 points.

The price difference between the two was significant.

“It must be because one is temporary and the other is permanent,” Kamikawa Mitsu guessed.

In the script, he spent only 100 points to gain a LV10 skill—but it vanished after the script ended, making it temporary.

Now, the situation was different: he acquired a permanent skill.

This was proven by the fact that the skills now appeared in his skill section.

“This system is quite economical.”

Kamikawa Mitsu couldn’t help but complain.

In modern products, identical items are often cheaper as disposable ones—like chopsticks.

“Still, this is fine—at least I can gain maximum benefit for myself with fewer script points, improving my chances of completing the script.”

Kamikawa Mitsu had no complaints about the system’s script point cost rules—he was quite satisfied.

Next,

Kamikawa Mitsu chose not to exchange for any more skills.

Of the other characters’ skills, the only ones currently useful to him were Takee Sashiko’s makeup and service abilities.

Makeup: he could use it to dress up his sister.

Service ability: he could apply it to his convenience store job.

But these were trivial.

Boys aren’t expected to be good at makeup, and using professional service skills at a convenience store would be overkill.

“System, can script points be exchanged for money?”

Since script points could exchange for anything, Kamikawa Mitsu wondered if money was included.

If so, he wouldn’t have to worry about finances for now.

Ding! Exchanging for untraceable money: 1 script point = 10,000 yen.

Ding! Exchanging for legally obtained money: 2 script points = 10,000 yen.

“Two points for only 10,000 yen?”

Kamikawa Mitsu didn’t seriously consider exchanging for untraceable money.

Japan had specialized agencies investigating financial flows; exchanging small amounts might go unnoticed, but larger sums, once spent, would easily be traced.

“Exchanging for money is a bad deal.”

Kamikawa Mitsu muttered, his expression conflicted.

His current script points, if exchanged for money, would total roughly 17 million yen—about one million RMB.

One million? Honestly, that’s too little.

The key point is, this would require spending all his current script points.

Remember, script points are vital.

To complete a script, spending script points is unavoidable—it’s essentially the investment for a film.

To ensure success in the next script, he must preserve some script points.

Calculating this way, the amount he could exchange would be even less—under one million.

Kamikawa Mitsu thought it over.

Exchanging script points for money wasn’t practical—not now, at least. He’d wait until he had more script points.

“Right now, I have the convenience store job with decent hourly pay—I can manage my living expenses. No urgent need for money. I’ll exchange later if I truly need it.”

He didn’t dwell on money.

Kamikawa Mitsu opened his phone to check the video’s popularity.

He wanted to see just how popular the video had become, to judge the system’s scoring criteria.

“The data is incredibly high!”

Kamikawa Mitsu was stunned by the video’s statistics.

Video shares: 5,463.

Comments: 18,214.

Views: 2.12 million.

Followers: 63,896.

This was just one night’s data.

If more time passed… the numbers would be even higher.

Scrolling through the comments, Kamikawa Mitsu was astonished.

“These netizens have wild imaginations.”

He skimmed the comments, which expressed amazement at the video and debated who filmed it and from what angle.

But the most discussed topic was whether NH137 was a human-caused accident.

“It really does seem plausible.”

Reading the analyses in the comment section, Kamikawa Mitsu couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

When he first edited the video, he hadn’t considered any of this—he never expected netizens to hallucinate their own explanations.

He glanced at the comments again.

Kamikawa Mitsu began to ponder.

“How can I boost the video’s popularity?”

The video’s popularity had surged not only because of the debate over NH137 being a human-caused accident.

There was another reason.

Namely, the footage of crows colliding with the plane and the aircraft flying at high altitude—scenes rivaling blockbuster special effects.

“For my next script’s video, should I add some special effects to make it more shocking?”

Kamikawa Mitsu wondered: in this NH137 incident, he hadn’t spent script points on special effects—he’d been too focused on saving himself. Maybe next time, he should add some effects to the event.

In short, find a way to make the script utterly stunning.

Pitter-patter.

Outside the window, a rumbling sound interrupted Kamikawa Mitsu’s thoughts.

“Huh? It’s raining?”

Kamikawa Mitsu turned toward the window just as his phone chimed.

A text message had arrived.

……

(PS: Dear readers, have you received my text message asking you to send me some recommendation votes!!)