Zero’s Reign: Reincarnated with a Gacha Clone System

Zero and Soma sat slumped against the counter, exhausted after another busy morning rush. The café had been packed again, and while the business was booming, the two of them were running on fumes.

Zero wiped his brow and checked the Gacha points at the register.

"Alright, let's see what we got."

A small notification screen flickered into view.

+148 Gacha Points Earned

Zero hummed. "That puts us at a total of 690."

Soma, leaning against the counter with a cup of water, glanced at him. "So, if we opened for lunch, we could hit 1000 and do an 11-pull by the end of the day."

Zero groaned, dropping his head onto the counter. "Yeah, but I'd also be dead from exhaustion."

Soma laughed. "Exactly. You already push yourself too much."

Zero sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I guess I should slow down."

Soma grinned, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait. Didn't you want to experiment with making another clone?"

Zero's eyes widened as realization hit him.

"Oh yeah! Let's do it now!"

Soma smirked. "Alright. Show me the magic."

He grabbed a bowl of popcorn and plopped into a chair, watching Zero as if settling in for a live theater performance.

Zero gave him a flat look. "…Seriously?"

Soma popped a kernel into his mouth. "What? You expect me not to enjoy this?"

Zero took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he focused inward.

He had done this once before—summoning Soma had come from instinct, but now he wanted to control it.

Reaching deep within himself, he tried to pull at that energy.

Nothing.

Zero frowned. He tried again, pushing harder—forcing his will outward.

Still, nothing happened.

Soma, watching from the side, casually threw another piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Not looking good, bud."

Zero growled under his breath, clenching his fists.

"Alright. Let's push it."

This time, he forced himself deeper, searching for that hidden energy—the part of him that had created Soma in the first place.

Then—

A sudden sharp pain shot through his chest.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as if something inside him was being torn apart.

Then he heard it—

Soma's scream.

Zero's eyes snapped open.

Soma was on the floor, gasping for air, clutching his chest.

Zero rushed over. "What happened?!"

Soma took a shaky breath, sitting up. His face was pale, sweat beading his forehead.

"…I felt like I was being crushed from the inside."

Zero froze.

Whatever he had just done—it had directly affected Soma.

After a few seconds, Soma let out a breath and forced a weak chuckle. "Well… guess we found a limit."

Zero frowned. "I think I need more practice."

Soma wiped his brow and nodded. "Yeah. And I think you should sit one out for tomorrow."

Zero raised an eyebrow. "What? Why?"

Soma stretched his arms and leaned back. "You need to train more. If you can figure out how to make just one more clone, you can have that clone focus on gathering magical energy."

Zero blinked.

Soma continued. "Think about it—once you get one more, you can start stockpiling mana. Then, with more magic, you can make even more clones. It's a solid method."

Zero hummed, thinking it over. "So I need to master making just one more first."

Soma grinned. "Exactly. But for now, just focus on yourself."

Zero exhaled. "Alright, alright. Are you okay handling evening hours alone today?"

Soma smirked, rolling his shoulders. "Of course. I can do coffee too, y'know."

Zero grinned, feeling a small sense of relief.

For now—he had a new goal.

And he was going to master it.

…

The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the Pinecrest Police Department, bathing the precinct in a warm golden hue. Inside, the usual hum of office chatter filled the air as officers wrapped up their paperwork for the day.

Officer Wolfe leaned against Monet's desk, arms crossed.

"Monet, you done with the paperwork?"

Monet looked up from her neatly stacked documents and gave a small nod. "Yes."

Wolfe smirked. "Alright. Good work for today."

Monet hesitated for a moment before speaking up.

"Do you have anything to do tonight?"

Wolfe arched an eyebrow. "Why do you want to know, Boot?"

Monet clicked her tongue. "I heard a new café has become a hot topic lately."

Wolfe stared at her for a second, then shrugged. "Alright. Let's go."

The engine hummed as Wolfe drove through the cobblestone streets of Pinecrest, the warm glow of the afternoon sun reflecting off the car's polished hood.

He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. "Where'd you hear about this café? I thought you always went straight home after our shift."

Monet, sitting in the passenger seat, folded her arms. "Actually, I heard about it while doing Officer Valdi's paperwork."

Wolfe's foot twitched slightly against the gas pedal.

"Wait." He shot her a sharp glance. "You're doing Valdi's paperwork?"

Monet winced, scratching her cheek. "He… insisted. And he's a higher rank than me."

Wolfe gritted his teeth.

He had hoped that after Captain Elara took over, things would start changing. But old habits—especially corruption—died hard.

He made a mental note to keep an eye on Valdi.

For now, though—

"Alright. Keep going. What were you saying about the café?"

Monet adjusted her seatbelt. "As I was saying, Officer Valdi was interrogating some of the detained cops."

Wolfe's expression darkened. "And?"

Monet sighed. "Several of them admitted they were being paid to hustle this café. Apparently, it's been attracting some powerful people. Not enough to be on anyone's direct radar, but enough that someone wants to check on them."

Wolfe frowned, processing the information. "So it's not just some random café. It has someone's interest."

Monet nodded.

Wolfe clicked his tongue. "Alright. But next time? Don't do anyone else's paperwork. That's how things worked before Elara became captain. But now? We do our jobs properly."

Monet smirked. "You sound just like our new captain."

Wolfe chuckled. "She has standards, which is more than I can say for most of this department. With her on board, we can actually do better."

The car rolled to a stop in front of a cozy-looking shop nestled between two larger buildings.

A small wooden sign above the entrance read:

Café Leblanc.

Wolfe squinted. "This is the place?"

Monet tilted her head, stepping out of the car. "It's… nicer than I expected."

Wolfe leaned against the car, hands in his pockets, scanning the café's modest yet welcoming exterior.

"…Let's see why several cops were getting paid to mess with this place."

With that, the two officers stepped toward the entrance—unknowingly walking into something much bigger than a simple café.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Wolfe and Monet stepped inside Café Leblanc.

Behind the counter, Soma stood cleaning a coffee cup, a relaxed yet practiced motion as he looked up to greet them.

"Welcome."

Wolfe and Monet, now in their casual clothes, took a moment to scan the interior. The café had a cozy charm, warm lighting bouncing off the wooden surfaces, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifting through the air.

Wolfe's sharp gaze landed on Soma. "Bit young for a café owner, aren't you?"

Soma chuckled, placing the cup down. "Well, I'm not. The boss is busy, so here I am." He set a clean saucer on the counter. "So, what can I get you?"

Wolfe eyed him for a second, then leaned forward. "Latte."

Monet took a seat beside him. "Affogato."

Soma nodded. "Coming right up. What about food?"

Monet tilted her head. "What do you have?"

Soma grinned. "We have a different menu every day. Tonight, it's lamb shanks."

Monet perked up. "Oh, I want that."

Wolfe smirked. "No need for me."

Soma gave a small nod before heading to the espresso machine, his movements smooth and effortless.

As the sound of steaming milk filled the air, Wolfe leaned back in his chair.

"Alright, Boot. Let's test something."

Monet straightened slightly. "Alright."

Wolfe glanced at her. "This café gets robbed. Two suspects. One takes a hostage, the other is ransacking the register. What do you do?"

Monet immediately started analyzing. "Well, I—"

"Wrong." Wolfe cut her off before she could even finish.

Monet frowned. "I didn't even—"

"And yet you're already wrong."

She gritted her teeth. "Alright, then what?"

Wolfe tapped his fingers on the counter. "You don't rush in. You observe. Look at the surroundings."

He gestured toward the cash register, sitting close to the entrance. "See that? It's in a bad spot. Easy to grab and go. The moment someone walks in looking for trouble, it's their first target."

Monet looked toward the register, then back at Wolfe.

"You don't just react to a situation—you anticipate it."

Monet took in the lesson but huffed. "Still, I think I could've at least answered first."

Wolfe smirked. "That's why it's a training exercise."

Soma returned, placing a latte in front of Wolfe and an affogato in front of Monet.

"Enjoy."

Monet stirred her coffee before taking a sip. "Mm. That's good."

Soma nodded, then glanced at Monet. "As for the lamb shanks, they'll be ready in just a sec."

As Soma returned to the kitchen, Wolfe took a sip of his own latte, then continued his lesson.

"Boot, lesson two. You need to be aware of everything in your environment—not just the obvious threats." He gestured again toward the layout of the café. "Always look at the register placement, the entrances, the exits. Who's sitting where. Who has a weapon."

Monet listened, but her attention shifted as a rich aroma filled the air.

A few moments later, Soma returned, carrying a plate of lamb shanks, the meat glistening in a savory glaze, a faint trail of steam rising from the dish.

Even before tasting it, the smell alone was enough to make Monet's mouth water.

Wolfe, who had initially declined food, paused.

Without even hesitating, he gestured toward Soma.

"Alright, get me one too."

Monet smirked. "Ohhh, I thought you didn't want any?"

Wolfe shrugged. "Changed my mind."

Soma chuckled. "One more coming right up."

And with that, the two officers settled in, ready to see what made this café so special.

…

The remnants of their meal sat on the table—only a few bones and a light smear of sauce left on Monet's plate. She leaned back, content and full, stretching her arms as she glanced at Wolfe.

"Sir, why do you still insist on being my training officer? You're a detective. You could've passed me off to someone else."

Wolfe, sipping the last of his coffee, smirked. "Because I saw your academy scores."

Monet raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"You were at the top of your class. One of the best performances I've seen." He set his empty cup down, leaning forward slightly. "But then I saw your graduation speech."

Monet visibly cringed, covering her face with her hands. "Ugh, don't remind me."

Wolfe chuckled. "You wrecked that shit."

She groaned. "That was almost a year ago. Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

Wolfe smirked. "Nope."

They both laughed, their usual formalities slipping away for a moment.

Then Wolfe's expression softened.

"Speaking of which—how are you?" he asked. "Are you ready for the test next week? If you pass, you're no longer a rookie."

Monet took a deep breath. "I have to be."

Wolfe watched her for a moment before nodding. "Good. Just don't freeze up when they ask you to make a speech again."

Monet scowled. "Oh, screw you."

Wolfe chuckled, then leaned back in his chair, gazing out the café window.

"…Honestly, I don't even know why the kingdom thinks they can copy the Federation's system," he muttered. "They're worried, that's why. Seeing a nation ruled by a leader elected by the people? That idea must scare the hell out of them."

Monet listened quietly as Wolfe sighed.

"If the kingdom truly cared, they'd separate their power properly. But instead, they just want to mimic what they see while still keeping the reins tight."

He shook his head. "Hah… Doesn't matter anymore. We just do our jobs."

Monet tapped her fingers on the table but didn't say anything.

The conversation lingered in the air, the weight of their roles settling in.

…

As the night rolled in, the café finally wound down.

Soma flipped the "OPEN" sign to "CLOSED" and stretched his arms over his head.

"Alright, we're done."

He called upstairs. "Oi, Zero! It's over!"

A moment later, Zero came down the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck. "So? How much did we make?"

Soma grinned, pulling up the register display. "We got an addition of 377 points."

Zero's eyes lit up. "So we did it. We have enough."

The total now sat at 1,067 Gacha Points—just enough for another 11-pull.

Soma smirked, crossing his arms. "Told you I could handle things alone."

Zero smirked right back. "Yeah, yeah. Good job, Chef."

Then Zero stretched, yawning. "Alright, I'm taking a bath. After that, we roll."

Soma raised an eyebrow. "Why take a bath first?"

Zero grinned. "So our luck gets better."

Soma stared at him for a moment.

Then snorted. "You're ridiculous."

Zero just grinned wider as he made his way upstairs, ready to freshen up before gambling fate once again.