Thug and Idol: 10X Rewards Second Identity System

He was walking down a Boston street late in the evening, just taking in the sights of the city and the glow of its endless lights.

Tristan's concert in the city was already done. Tomorrow, he was going to fly all the way back to Los Angeles for the last concert of the tour. This was his best opportunity to look around the new place, short of coming here for a vacation.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

So far, Tristan didn't think Boston deserved more than a single evening of his time. The atmosphere here wasn't glamorous enough for his liking—Memphis and Las Vegas were much more to his taste.

It was at this moment that Tristan felt the pressure of someone's gaze on the back of his head. The gaze was too unmoving and intent to just belong to a passerby.

Tristan stopped near a fashion boutique and looked at its window. It was lit from the inside, showcasing the items standing on the other side, so it didn't work as a mirror. But Tristan could at least pretend he was staring at the designer heels instead of glancing around in search of whoever was staring at him.

Tristan wondered if someone recognized him. He was wearing the Gemello identity, but casual clothes and a hood over his head. As long as he kept himself inconspicuous, Tristan easily avoided 99% of fans in this getup.

1% still recognized him thanks to their pure adoration, but they were easily convinced to keep quiet and not give any more people a reason to approach Tristan and interrupt his downtime.

Right now, though, there were no people watching Tristan from behind—everybody was walking past while paying him no mind. Yet the feeling of being watched persisted.

Tristan focused on it, trying to find the direction from where the gaze was coming from more precisely—but as if reading Tristan's thoughts, the pressure suddenly abated. It didn't disappear entirely, but now it was as if he was watched from the corner of someone's eye.

'It's somewhere above? Someone is watching me from a window?' Tristan guessed. He glanced up and to the side.

The street he was in was wide and tall. The buildings here had fifty floors each, at the very least. Many windows were lit, but from Tristan's angle, it was impossible to tell if there was someone in any of them.

'No, this is an inconvenient position to look down the street. The angle is too steep.'

With a slight frown, Tristan turned away from the showcase and resumed walking down the street.

If someone was stalking him, then the best way to find that person was to keep walking. If Tristan just imagined things, then the stalker won't appear.

But Tristan's imagination was too precise to make things up like that. He was sure—someone was tailing him. And that someone was a real pro.

Tristan walked in seemingly random directions for half an hour, but his stalker never once showed himself. Whenever Tristan thought he could tell where his gaze was coming from, he found only empty streets and disinterested passersby.

Tristan's steps brought him to more and more bustling places. Since he couldn't discover the stalker, Tristan's best bet was just to avoid any confrontation, return to his hotel, and leave this city entirely as soon as possible.

Then Tristan would switch identity in privacy, which he solely lacked right now, and find whoever that was with all his criminal resources and capabilities.

By walking toward his hotel, Tristan was both baiting the stalker and getting away from him. But since the stalker refused to be baited, Tristan lost his patience. And the hotel was still a distance away.

Tristan glanced around. This was a touristy area, and there were a lot of cabs moving around. He spotted one that just let out a couple of elderly, but obviously rich, tourists and power-walked straight to it.

Before the driver could leave, Tristan reached out for the car's door, about to get a ride to his hotel.

But in this moment, he felt the pressure of his stalker's attention sharpen.

It was a rapid change from intent, but calm observation to something much more calculating and ominous.

Something that made the hairs on Tristan's neck stand on ends, pumped adrenaline in his blood, and made the surrounding time flow slowly like molasses.

He never was at the receiving end of a look like that after getting the 'Sight Awareness' talent, but Tristan knew what this look meant.

It was the gaze of a sniper, peering at him through the optics of his rifle!

The stalker wasn't just watching Tristan, he was waiting for the right opportunity to shoot him—and perhaps because Tristan was going to escape, decided to shoot now!

With all the speed he could muster, Tristan ducked.

The time resumed its normal pace. A bullet whizzed over his head, close enough to tear through Tristan's hood, and hit the cab with a loud bang of metal.

Several people turned to the noise. The cab driver looked toward it with a scowl, as if expecting someone to have kicked his car with a foot.

There was no blast of the shot itself. The sniper must've been far away, even if he used a silencer.

Tristan's head was calculating angles and distances at the limit of his intellectual abilities. A dozen of schematics appeared in his mind in an instant.

Without a pause, Tristan dashed to the side, weaving past the passersby toward the nearest corner. By his estimations, this was going to give him a cover from the sniper's position.

He had no doubt that now that his intent and existence became known, the sniper won't wait half an hour to make another shot at Tristan.

'I can't start fighting whoever this is right now! I don't have any weapons, and even if I did—this is a wrong identity to fight in! The best thing I can do is to get to a better cover—and get the fuck out of here!'