Reincarnated with the Country System

Alberto adjusted the collar of his black leather jacket, the cool material brushing against his skin. The streets pulsed with life—engines growling, pedestrians chattering, neon lights flickering like electric veins running through the city.

He pulled the hood over his head, shadowing his face. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling meat, spices, and the lingering tang of grease. Vendors lined the sidewalks, their voices sharp as they hawked their food, their stalls glowing under garish lights.

His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. Hunger wasn't important right now. His eyes flicked over the crowd, scanning faces, reading movements.

Then, he slipped into a narrow alley.

The noise of the street faded into a murmur behind him, replaced by the steady drip of water and the rustle of something scurrying—rats, most likely. This was a different world. Darker. Sharper. And far more dangerous.

Then, from the shadows, a figure stepped into his path.

Tall. Thin. Hood pulled low over his face. A knife glinted in his hand.

"Wallet," the man growled, voice rough as gravel.

Alberto smiled. Slow. Dangerous.

"You sure about this?" His voice was smooth, laced with something that made the man hesitate.

The man hesitated, gripping the knife in his hand tightly. "Don't talk nonsense to me, kid. Hand it over."

Alberto's eyes were sparkling with amusement. He took a step forward. The man's confidence faltered, and he took a step back, the knife trembling in his hand. But he didn't understand why.

"You've chosen the wrong man," Alberto said, his voice calm but filled with menace. He reached inside his jacket, and the man flinched, expecting a weapon. Instead, Alberto pulled out a wad of cash, handing it to the man.

"Here," he said, holding it out.

The man stared at the money, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the—?"

"You can take all of this."

The man hesitated, then snatched the money from Alberto's hand, his eyes darting around nervously. He stepped back, disappearing into the shadows.

Alberto watched him go, then pulled out his phone.

"Roberts."

The line crackled, then a voice answered, crisp and sharp. "Your Majesty, how may I serve you?"

"Just got robbed," Alberto said casually. "Go get my money back."

A long silence. Then—

"WHAT?! Who the hell would be dumb enough to rob our Emperor?!" Roberts' voice practically shook with fury. "Your Majesty, I'll mobilize the entire force—"

"Nope," Alberto interrupted. "I want you to handle this personally. Weren't you the one complaining that crime's too low? That you're bored out of your damn mind? Well, I fixed that for you. Summoned some criminals into the city—just for fun. Now, go earn your keep."

Another silence. Then a reluctant, "Understood… Your Majesty. I'll report soon."

Alberto hung up.

A thousand criminals. Summoned through the system. Enough to keep the city interesting. But none of them would dare step out of line—not too far, anyway.

He stepped out of the alley, the neon glow of the main street wrapping around him like a second skin. A small square lay ahead, pulsing with activity. To one side, a bar loomed—its fogged-up windows and flickering sign promising cheap booze and bad decisions.

He pushed open the door.

The air inside was thick with alcohol and cigarette smoke. A jukebox hummed in the corner, a slow, smoky tune weaving through murmured conversations.

Alberto made his way to the bar, sliding onto a stool. The bartender, a burly man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a snake coiled around his arm, approached him.

"What'll it be?" the bartender asked, his voice gruff.

"Whiskey," Alberto said. "Neat."

The bartender nodded, pouring the drink and sliding it across the bar. Alberto took a sip, the liquid burning his throat as it went down. He set the glass down, his eyes scanning the room.

A woman caught his eye, sitting at a table in the corner. She was alone, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders. Her eyes met his, and she smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips.

He picked up his drink and made his way over to her table, sliding into the seat across from her. She raised an eyebrow, her smile widening.

"Buy me a drink?" she asked, her voice smooth and teasing.

Alberto smirked, signaling the bartender. "What's your poison?"

"Tequila," she said. "With a splash of lime."

The bartender brought the drink, and Alberto watched as she took a sip, her eyes never leaving his. There was something magnetic about her, a dangerous allure that drew him in.

"Name's Sofia," she said, setting her glass down.

"Alejandro," Alberto lied smoothly, the alias rolling off his tongue with practiced ease.

"So, Alejandro," she said, leaning forward. "What brings you to a place like this?"

"Just looking around," he said, tone lazy, almost bored. "Seeing what the city has to offer."

Sofia smirked. "Is this your first time in the capital?"

Before he could respond, something changed. A shift in the air. A weight.

Across the room, a group of men were watching them. Staring too long.

Sofia's expression darkened.

"Problem?" he asked, voice quiet.

She exhaled sharply. "Could be."

The men stood, their movements slow, deliberate. One of them—a thickset guy with a scar running down his cheek—grinned at Sofia.

"Sofia," he said, voice all mischief. "You've been avoiding us."

She tensed, her eyes flicking to Alberto. "I don't want any trouble."

The man laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Too late for that."

Alberto stood, his body blocking Sofia from view. "Walk away," he said, his voice cold and commanding.

The man's eyes narrowed, his hand moving to his waistband. "You don't know who you're messing with, kid."

Alberto's lips curled into a smirk. "Neither do you."

The man lunged, his knife flashing in the dim light. Alberto moved with lightning speed, his hand snapping out to catch the man's wrist. He twisted, the bone snapping with a sickening crack. The man screamed, dropping the knife as he fell to his knees.

The other men hesitated, their confidence wavering. Alberto's eyes glinted with danger as he stepped forward, his presence radiating power.

"I said walk away," he growled.

The men backed off, dragging their injured companion with them. The bar fell silent, the patrons watching with wide eyes. Alberto turned back to Sofia, his expression softening.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and admiration. "Yeah. Thanks."

Alberto nodded, his hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her out of the bar.

"You're not just some guy, are you?" Sofia asked, her voice quiet.

Alberto smiled, a hint of mystery in his eyes. "Let's just say I'm full of surprises."