The Mob Character Who Woke Up!-Chapter 65: Helping Hand

His jaw looked slightly tighter than before like he was clenching it.

His fingers twitched involuntarily.

And then, inevitably, curiosity completely betrayed him.

He glanced down at his liberated hand.

His immaculate, runway ready hand that belonged in hand model portfolios now looked distinctly not immaculate.

Not ruined necessarily.

Just fundamentally wrong in ways that defied explanation.

Slightly damp and suspiciously gooey.

Slightly questionable.

Slightly existentially unpleasant.

He discreetly shifted his hand closer to his face under the guise of adjusting his sleeve with practiced elegance.

A cautious sniff to investigate the source of discomfort.

Immediate crushing regret.

His entire expression froze solid like he had been turned to stone.

For a split second, the elegant mask shattered completely as his body betrayed him with a violent involuntary gag that he could not suppress.

Jason turned sharply to the side and retched dramatically into the nearby decorative bushes, his refined posture collapsing into something far more human and significantly less majestic as his breakfast tried to make a reappearance.

The goons gasped in collective horror.

"Lord Jason!"

"Are you alright, my lord?!"

"Someone fetch water!"

Kaizen stood there, blinking his eyes innocently like a confused puppy who had no idea what was happening.

"Oh my goodness," he said with exaggerated concern dripping from every word like honey. "Was it my nervous sweat? I truly apologize from the bottom of my heart, I am just completely overwhelmed in the presence of such greatness and my body reacts strangely."

Jason wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, face gone pale like a ghost, eyes slightly watering from the experience, and attempted to reconstruct his shattered dignity like someone desperately rebuilding a fallen empire from rubble.

Kaizen folded his hands politely in front of him like a good boy who had done nothing wrong.

Inside his mind, fireworks were exploding.

Petty, vindictive, absolutely glorious fireworks with sparklers and confetti.

’Phase one complete.’

Kaizen thought with overwhelming satisfaction flooding his brain.

’And now for the phase two!’

The moment Lord Jason staggered back from the bushes looking like his soul had just been audited by the tax department and found severely wanting, his goons rushed toward him in full panic mode, rubbing his back frantically, patting his chest gently, whispering absolute nonsense like he was a Victorian noblewoman who had fainted at the sight of commoners.

"Lord Jason, please breathe deeply and think of pleasant meadows!"

"My lord, please, steady yourself and find your center!"

"Should we call a healer?!"

Kaizen widened his eyes in exaggerated concern and immediately jogged over like the world’s most unqualified medic who had just watched one YouTube video.

"Oh no, oh no, this is very serious," he said with alarming urgency in his voice that made everyone pay attention. "If someone massages the face gently when someone feels faint or nauseous, everything balances out immediately according to ancient wisdom.

"It is an ancient healing technique passed down through generations of healers."

The goons froze in place and turned to look at him.

"Really? That works?"

"Yes, yes, absolutely," Kaizen insisted with terrifying confidence that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. "The face must be stimulated properly to restore inner harmony and balance the humors. It is science."

The goons looked at each other with uncertainty.

Then they all nodded together like a hivemind.

"Do it!"

"Quickly, help Lord Jason before it gets worse!"

"You seem knowledgeable!"

Before Jason could properly recover from the previous olfactory betrayal that had assaulted his senses, before his brain could successfully reconnect to reality and process what was happening, before his dignity could crawl back into its proper position, Kaizen’s still questionable hand rose toward him with the enthusiasm of an eager volunteer nurse.

"My lord, please remain calm and trust the process."

And then he rubbed that face.

Right across the cheek with firm strokes.

Up the jawline with dedication.

Over the temple with commitment.

Around the forehead with enthusiasm.

With deep, committed dedication to the craft of completely destroying someone’s day.

Lord Jason’s scream pierced the courtyard like a banshee discovering taxes.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

He shoved everyone away with the desperation of a man fighting off invisible demons and stumbled backward again, gagging dramatically while his goons panicked even harder than before because their lord was clearly dying.

"What is happening to him?!"

"Why is it getting worse instead of better?!"

"Did we break him?!"

Jason bent over double, hands on his knees, looking like the Radiant Sun had just experienced a total solar collapse and would never shine again.

When he finally straightened up after what felt like an eternity, there was no glow left anywhere on his face. No shimmer. No runway model composure.

He looked ten years older and like he had seen the face of death. His skin had lost its shine. His posture had collapsed like a failed souffle.

He fumbled desperately in his pocket with shaking hands, pulled out a pristine white handkerchief that was probably worth more than Kaizen’s tuition, and began wiping his face with the intensity of someone trying to physically erase a traumatic memory from their skin.

Not a single word escaped his lips.

Not a glare of accusation.

Just silent, broken dignity bleeding out.

He gestured weakly for his goons to follow him away from this cursed place immediately.

They obeyed instantly, flanking him like concerned nurses escorting a fallen idol out of public view before more people witnessed this disaster.

Kaizen clasped his hands behind his back and called out cheerfully,

"Please inform me if there is another meeting scheduled with the Radiant Sun, I shall prepare incense and prayers for his swift recovery!"

The goons, still confused but now fully committed to the narrative that Kaizen was somehow being respectful in his own weird way, nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes, he clearly means well."

"He was only trying to help our lord."

"Such dedication to healing arts."

They continued rubbing Jason’s back as they walked, whispering reassurances about how everything would be fine, while Jason shuffled forward in traumatized silence like a dethroned monarch reconsidering every single life decision that led him to this exact moment of complete humiliation.

Kaizen’s smile slowly widened into something beautiful and terrible.

The Radiant Sun had finally set.

And it had been absolutely beautiful to witness.

But Kaizen’s smile did not fade even slightly.

In fact, it evolved into its final form.

He looked down and spotted it like destiny had placed it there personally for him as a gift from the universe.

The suspicious banana peel.

A legendary artifact of humiliation lying on the cobblestones.

Without wasting even a single heartbeat, Kaizen bent down with the innocent grace of a man adjusting his shoelace and picked up the holy relic of chaos that fate had so generously placed in his path.