Reincarnated Mercenary on Duty

The next morning, Frank woke up early, stretching his stiff limbs with a groan. "How does anyone sleep on such a hard bed? My whole body feels like it's been through a grinder."

["Well, perhaps finding a new place should be your top priority today,"] the system chimed in, its voice as lively as ever.

Frank rubbed his neck, rolling his shoulders. "Do you ever sleep, or are you just always... on?"

["I'm a system, a higher form of life. Sleep is unnecessary for me."]

"That sounds exhausting," Frank said with a smirk, heading toward the bathroom. "Always being awake, always working."

["I assure you, I function optimally without rest."]

Frank snorted softly as he closed the bathroom door. An hour later, he emerged freshly showered, a towel slung around his shoulders. He wandered over to the small closet, pulling it open. "Let's see if there's anything decent in here..."

Inside, he found a single suit set—a black blazer and pants with a crisp white shirt. The fabric looked slightly worn but well-maintained. He inspected it briefly and sighed. "Only one decent outfit, and by the way it's been carefully stored, I'm guessing he barely wore it. Probably reserved for special occasions."

Frank shrugged. "Well, it'll have to do for today. Looks like I'll need to add shopping to my to-do list." He quickly dressed, adjusting the fit in front of the small mirror.

Just as he was buttoning the jacket, the system's voice interrupted him. ["What are you doing?"]

"Uh, dressing? What does it look like?" Frank replied, raising an eyebrow.

["Why are you wearing that old thing? You have a much better suit—the one you received as a reward yesterday. Did you already forget?"]

Frank blinked, realization dawning on him. "Oh, right. Totally slipped my mind. How do I... uh... get it out of the inventory?"

["Just think about it,"] the system instructed.

Frank closed his eyes and pictured the suit. Within moments, it materialized in his hands. The fabric was sleek and impossibly smooth to the touch. "Now this... this feels like quality," he said, inspecting it.

He slipped into the suit, marveling at how light and comfortable it was. "Wow, it's like wearing air. Are you sure this thing can stop bullets?"

["Absolutely. Want to test it out?"]

Frank hesitated, his tone skeptical. "I mean... I do, but shooting myself sounds like a bad idea."

["Believe me, it's genuine. And if it fails, I'll heal you for free,"] the system reassured him.

Frank chuckled nervously. "Okay, I'll take your word for it... this time."

He adjusted the cuffs and collar, admiring how sharp he looked in the mirror. The suit wasn't just practical; it exuded style, making him look every bit the part of someone who could handle himself in any situation.

"Well, at least I'm dressed to impress," Frank muttered as he headed for the door.

"Now, let's get some breakfast, shall we?" Frank muttered, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as he stepped out into the morning sun. He strolled down to the nearest café and ordered a light breakfast: a sandwich paired with a cappuccino.

Settling at a corner table, he bit into the sandwich and let out a satisfied sigh. "Not bad," he mumbled, savoring the peaceful ambiance of the café.

Just as he was getting into the rhythm of enjoying his meal, his phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with the name [James]. Frank frowned slightly before picking up.

"What is it?" he answered, sandwich still in hand.

"Where are you?" James's voice came through, loud and insistent. "I'm at your apartment door, and you're not here. What are you doing so early in the morning?"

"What are you doing at my door this early?" Frank shot back, leaning back in his chair.

"Just tell me where you are!" James demanded.

Frank sighed. "Fine, I'm at the café across from the building."

"Stay there. I'm coming over," James said and hung up before Frank could respond.

Frank stared at his phone for a moment before setting it back on the table. "What's up with him?" he muttered, taking another bite of his sandwich.

A few minutes later, the tranquility of the café was shattered as a middle-aged man burst through the doors, drawing every pair of eyes in the room. His slightly disheveled appearance and frantic energy made him stand out like a sore thumb.

The man's gaze darted around until it landed on Frank. "Hey, Frank!" he shouted, charging toward him.

"Hey, hey, hey! Slow down!" Frank hissed, gesturing around at the other patrons. "You're disturbing people."

James finally seemed to notice the annoyed glares being thrown their way. Lowering his head sheepishly, he muttered, "Sorry, everyone. My bad."

Frank smirked. "Alright, what's got you so worked up?"

James's face lit up again as he reached into his jacket, pulling out a folded newspaper. He handed it to Frank with a grin. "See for yourself!"

Frank raised an eyebrow but took the paper, unfolding it. "Business news... diplomats... blah blah blah..." he murmured, scanning the headlines.

"Turn to page three," James said, his excitement bubbling over.

"You could've started with that," Frank muttered, flipping to the third page. His eyes immediately locked on the bold headline:

[A Brave Detective from the Daeton Police Department Takes Down Local Mafia Group!]

Beneath it was a photo of James standing in front of a warehouse, a dozen gangsters kneeling in a line, their hands on their heads, facing the camera.

But then his expression shifted, and his tone softened. "Honestly, Frank... there should've been your photo there. I feel bad taking the fame that you deserve."

Frank chuckled, setting the newspaper down. "Come on, James. I could've never pulled this off without you. You saved me from getting shot, remember? If anyone deserves this fame, it's you."

James looked down, his fingers nervously brushing the edge of the table. "Still… I couldn't shake the thought that you might feel bitter about this. The idea of taking all the credit for something we both did—it's been weighing on me."

"Quit it," Frank said, smirking. "My goal was never to make the headlines. I only cared about saving that kid, and we did it. That's all that matters to me."

James looked up, visibly relieved, a genuine smile breaking through. "Thanks for saying that, bro. Your words… they've really lightened my heart."

Frank leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Now, what's next for you, hero? Signing autographs? Hosting press conferences?"

James laughed, his confidence returning. "Don't joke about it—I already got a call from the chief this morning. She said I'm getting a bonus!"

Frank raised a brow. "A bonus, huh? Then that calls for a treat."

"Of course, bro!" James said, grinning.