I Can Extract Game Items

August's hand tightened on the sword's hilt as he met Floozk's gaze. "It was agreed upon by this gentleman here," he replied, nodding slightly toward Henry. "I don't think we need to complicate things."

Floozk chuckled as his gaze flicked to Henry with a faint look of disdain. "Oh, I specialize in complications, Aleman. And when I want something, I don't care who stands in the way." He looked back at August while speaking with a tone that carried a warning. "I've come to acquire that sword, one way or another."

The color drained from Henry's face as Floozk's words resounded in his ears. It was clear he didn't want any part of a confrontation with someone like Floozk, and he glanced anxiously at August, as though silently asking him to reconsider.

But August's gaze remained steady. "We already had a deal. I'm not interested in renegotiating."

Floozk raised an eyebrow. "Bold. I respect that, Aleman. But respect only goes so far." He gave a slight nod to one of his bodyguards, a signal that made August's hand instinctively tighten on the sword's hilt.

Floozk's men began to step forward, surrounding the table in a loose circle.

The tension in the air grew thick, and nearby diners began to whisper. Some even rose from their tables to move away from the impending confrontation.

August remained seated with a calm posture. There was no fear in his gaze, just a steady, unyielding resolve that seemed to unsettle even the hardened men around him.

Henry, on the other hand, was anything but calm. He stood beside August as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

His hands trembled slightly as he glanced between Floozk, his bodyguards, and August.

Henry had heard the stories of Floozk, stories that painted him as ruthless and unforgiving, a man whose power in the underground world rivaled that of any influential figure.

Recalling those stories made his voice waver as he glanced uneasily at Floozk.

"Perhaps… maybe we should reconsider…" Henry whispered with an almost pleading tone.

August, however, remained unfazed.

"No. It is a done deal."

He kept his eyes on Floozk while exuding a quiet confidence that spoke of experience.

In his previous world, he had dealt with men like Floozk—powerful figures who thrived on intimidation, using fear as their weapon of choice. He knew their tactics all too well, and he knew one golden rule: never let them see you hesitate.

Floozk's gaze, sharp and piercing, bore into August's as if trying to read the man before him, to understand why this young player would dare to defy him. After a moment, Floozk's lips curved into a faint, calculating smile.

"Very well, Aleman," Floozk voiced with a smooth yet deceptively friendly tone. "Let's talk numbers, then. I'll double the amount. Two hundred thousand."

Henry's eyes widened in relief as he looked at August, practically willing him to accept.

The deal seemed more than fair, especially with the added danger of defying Floozk hanging over them. But August barely reacted. His calm gaze never left Floozk.

"Not interested," his tone was calm and casual.

A flicker of irritation crossed Floozk's face. His friendly facade slipped ever so slightly.

He took a step forward as his voice grew colder and unmistakably threatening. "Think carefully, Aleman. I don't usually extend a second offer, let alone double it. Accept, and you'll be in my good graces. Refuse… and I can't guarantee this won't end badly for you."

Beside Floozk, the lackey who had first met with August during his initial attempt to sell the sword took a step forward, offering a forced smile as he tried to interject.

"Mr. Aleman, please. This is a rare chance. Mr. Floozk isn't a man to turn down lightly," the lackey said carefully, hoping to reason with August.

But August's expression didn't waver. He met Floozk's gaze with unwavering confidence, as though he were completely immune to the threat being levied against him.

"If you really want to stay in *my* good books," he said calmly, "you'll let me complete my deal here with Mr. Whitford. There'll be other opportunities for us to work together, Mr Floozk. The Bronze Shortsword is just the beginning. You'll miss out on much more if you ruin this for me now."

Henry gaped at August. His eyes widened in shock. He had never seen anyone speak to Floozk this way, let alone stand up to him without the slightest trace of fear.

The other diners watched in silent fascination, their eyes darting between August and Floozk, caught in the tension of the moment.

One of Floozk's bodyguards, clearly aggravated by August's unyielding stance, clenched his fists and took a menacing step forward. But Floozk raised a hand, signaling him to stand down while his gaze was still centered on August.

For a long, heavy moment, Floozk studied him. Then, slowly, a smirk began to form on his lips, one that spoke of both amusement and a grudging respect. "You're a rare one, Aleman. Very few people talk to me like that, and even fewer walk away intact."

August's lips curved into a faint smile. "Good to know I'm making an impression."

Floozk's eyes glinted with something that might have been admiration, or perhaps just intrigue. After a moment's pause, he reached into the pocket of his tailored suit and withdrew a black business card before extending it to August.

"Here," Floozk voiced. "When you have something else to sell, contact me first. Let's make sure I'm your top client."

August took the card, glancing down at it briefly before meeting Floozk's gaze once more. "Of course. No problem, Mr. Floozk."

Floozk gave a slight nod, as though granting August a small measure of respect.

Without another word, he turned on his heel. His bodyguards fell in step around him, forming a protective barrier as they made their way back to the waiting convoy.

The tension that had held the restaurant in a stranglehold slowly began to dissipate, and the diners resumed their conversations, albeit in hushed tones, casting curious glances toward August.

Once Floozk and his entourage were out of sight, Henry let out a shaky breath. He looked at August in shock, awe, and relief. He shook his head as a faint smile formed while he tried to process what had just happened.

"How… how did you manage to pull that off?" Henry questioned in disbelief and admiration. "That was Floozk, Aleman. People like him… they don't just back down."

August gave a nonchalant shrug with a calm and confident tone. "Experience, Henry. Men like Floozk? They feed off fear. Don't give it to them, and you're already one step ahead."

Henry let out a low chuckle, still in awe about how August had handled the encounter. "You're either incredibly brave or incredibly reckless. Either way, you've got my respect. Thank you… for finishing the deal."

August gave a nod, glancing down at Floozk's business card before tucking it away in his pocket. "Glad we could wrap this up. Enjoy the sword, Henry. I don't think I'll be taking refunds."

They shared a brief laugh, the last traces of tension finally dissipating as Henry grinned. "I'll take good care of it, don't worry. And… if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

With a final handshake, Henry took his leave.

...

...

As the convoy made its way down the city streets, the atmosphere inside Floozk's luxurious SUV was thick with unspoken tension.

Floozk sat in the back seat with a distant gaze as he replayed the encounter with August in his mind.

The defiance, the lack of fear—it was rare for someone to stand up to him so openly, and rarer still for that person to walk away unscathed.

Beside him, the lackey who had first tried to negotiate with August shifted uncomfortably, casting nervous glances at Floozk as though trying to gauge his mood. Finally, unable to contain his confusion, the lackey spoke up, his tone hesitant.

"Sir, if I may… why did we let him get away with it?" The lackey's voice wavered slightly as he glanced at Floozk. "We could have taken the sword by force. No one would have dared to stop us."

Floozk's gaze remained fixed out the window. After a long pause, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips alongside a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Aleman… he's an interesting one," he responded with a contemplative tone. "It's rare to meet someone who doesn't flinch in my presence."

The lackey frowned, clearly not understanding. "But… he refused your offer, sir. He showed you no respect."

Floozk's smirk widened slightly. "Respect isn't always earned by fear alone. Aleman's confidence—his audacity—that's something I don't encounter often. It's refreshing. Besides, people usually don't act that way unless they have something up their sleeves. He might prove useful… more valuable as an ally than as an enemy."

The lackey shifted uncomfortably as he struggled to comprehend his boss's perspective. "But, sir, what if he—"

Without warning, Floozk's hand lashed out, delivering a sharp slap across the lackey's face.

"Know your place..."