I Can Extract Game Items

"Well, perhaps more publicity isn't bad... this should boost AM Coven once the business is fully open..."

August leaned back in his chair as his thoughts swirled. The recording from his helmet had served its purpose as an advertisement for AM Coven, but now it had spiraled into something much bigger. People weren't just curious about his business—they were curious about him.

His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was yet another missed call from an unsaved number.

"Probably the hospital...I should get back to them now that I have time," August muttered.

---

Back at the police station, one protester shouted above the noise:

Protester: "If this guy is healing people, the world has a right to know who he is! What if we need him too?"

Another countered, "Leave him alone! He's doing more good than the police ever did with the Oni!"

The commotion didn't seem to die down, and even the police were beginning to wonder about the identity of the man who had helped them pull off something they thought was impossible. Experience more content on empire

...

...n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

(The Next Day)

August leaned back in the leather chair of the newly furnished office at AM Coven.

The room smelled of fresh paint and polished wood. The warm sunlight filtering in through the window gave it a cozy yet professional vibe.

The faint sound of activity from the workers in the main space of AM Coven filtered into the office.

On the desk before him sat the landline phone he had recently installed.

He stared at the list of calls that had come through on the business line. He believed they were from Faith Specialist Hospital which meant they must have seen his card.

They were obviously intrigued—curious about what they had witnessed four nights ago in the ICU. August allowed himself a small smirk; everything was going according to plan.

He reached for the receiver, dialed the last missed call on the list, and waited.

The line clicked, and a calm, slightly aged voice greeted him. "Hello, this is Dr. Anderson from Faith Specialist Hospital. May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Aleman," August replied. "I believe your hospital has been trying to contact me."

There was a brief pause before the man on the other end replied. His tone shifted to one of polite eagerness. "Ah, yes! We've indeed been trying to reach you. Regarding the... miraculous incident with one of our patients. We were hoping to learn more about the item you used. It's unlike anything we've encountered."

August smirked slightly, tapping a finger on the desk. "I expected as much. It would be foolish not to be curious about something with such capabilities."

Dr. Anderson chuckled nervously. "You're quite right. Frankly, we're very interested in discussing business possibilities with you. Are you available to meet in person?"

August glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm tied up at the moment. However, I can make time this evening."

"That would be perfect. We'll prepare everything on our end. Thank you for considering."

"Don't thank me yet," August's tone carried a hint of amusement. "I'll see you this evening."

With that, the call ended. August leaned back with a satisfied look.

Things were progressing as he envisioned. His actions had sparked intrigue, and now it was time to see how far he could leverage this opportunity.

After giving a glance at the paperwork cluttered on his desk, he stood and walked out of the office. The workers glanced up as he appeared. His sharp gaze and tailored jacket lent an air of authority. One of the contractors, a middle-aged man with a rugged demeanor, approached him with a clipboard.

"Mr. Aleman," the man began, "we've finalized the shelves for the display area. Now we're working on the lighting for the showcase section you designed."

"Good," August replied with a calm tone. "I want the lighting perfect—each piece should look like a treasure under a spotlight. Ensure that's done right before anything else."

"Yes, sir," the contractor said, nodding firmly before heading back to his team.

August moved towards the main exit. Before he left, he turned back and addressed the group. "I'll be out for a while. If any issues come up, resolve them, or leave a message. I don't want delays."

The workers acknowledged him with a chorus of affirmations. Satisfied, August stepped out into the afternoon sun. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through his schedule.

First, he needed to head home and change out of his outfit and helmet. Parent-teacher meetings weren't exactly the place to make bold business impressions, and he couldn't very well show up as Aleman. A simple yet refined look would suffice.

...

...

At home, August changed into a casual yet polished ensemble—a white button-up shirt paired with dark blue trousers. His shoes gleamed under the light, and his hair was neatly combed back. He wanted to exude responsibility and reliability without drawing unnecessary attention.

Little did he know that things wouldn't go the way he wanted in the slightest...

The school grounds were alive with the lively chatter of students and the occasional shout from teachers trying to maintain order. The surroundings hadn't changed much since August's high school days.

The same brick buildings, wide grassy fields, and faint smell of ink filled the air.

Only a few new structures and a fresh coat of paint betrayed the passage of time.

August, wearing a casual yet impeccably neat outfit—a white button-up shirt tucked into dark blue tailored trousers, complemented by a pair of clean black loafers—strode through the gates. His green hair streaked with white patches shimmered under the sunlight, styled to perfection, giving him an effortlessly charismatic aura.

His sharp jawline, striking emerald eyes, and perfectly sculpted features turned heads immediately. Female students whispered amongst themselves, giggling and exchanging glances as they speculated who this "walking god" could be.

"Is he a model?" one girl whispered.

"No way, he must be an actor!" another replied.

A bolder student whistled loudly, eliciting laughter and more curious glances.

August ignored the attention, focusing entirely on finding Sophia. Still, the corners of his lips twitched upward slightly in amusement.

Memories of the original August school days surfaced as he walked down familiar paths, past the large cafeteria and sports grounds, until he reached the Year 2 block.

Sophia's classroom was on the second floor. As August ascended the stairs, the noise from the classrooms quieted. He noticed glances from teachers and students alike. Some of the faculty whispered to each other, speculating if he was a new hire or some alumnus they had missed during their tenure.

When August reached Sophia's classroom and knocked gently, the room went silent. The teacher, a striking woman in her late twenties with caramel-toned skin, wavy chestnut hair, and warm brown eyes framed by stylish glasses, turned toward him.

She wore a simple yet elegant green blouse tucked into a knee-length black skirt. Her name tag read Ms. Emilia Weston.

"Yes? May I help you?" Her professional demeanor faltered slightly as she took in August's presence. For a split second, her composed expression was replaced by mild surprise, though she quickly recovered.

"Hi," August voiced with a deep yet soft tone. "I'm here for Sophia Clementine."