20-21

**Chapter 20: Reflection**


"What’s going on here?"


At the entrance of an alley in the chaotic district of Compton, a police car screeched to a halt, its siren blaring obnoxiously.


The door opened, and a portly white police officer stepped out of the car. 


Resting a hand on the pistol at his hip, he directed a question to his colleagues investigating the alley. 


“Nothing much,” came the reply. 


The officer who had arrived earlier shrugged, glanced back at a group of visibly shaken individuals, and shook his head. 


“Just a bunch of drunk idiots making false reports.” 


“Is that so?” 


Hearing his colleague’s response, the white officer’s tense expression relaxed slightly. While he let out a sigh of relief, his hand remained firmly on his weapon.


After all, this was one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in all of Los Angeles, notorious for its high crime rate and being a hotspot for officer casualties. Walking these streets was risky, especially for a white cop like him. At any moment, someone harboring resentment over perceived "discrimination" could jump out and open fire, later being portrayed by the media as an "upstanding citizen" unjustly harmed.


Meanwhile, officers like him, who were genuinely trying to protect the community, would be painted as the villains.


And yet, it was the police who provided the backbone of safety for the city. 


Even if, on occasion, they had to shoot to stop someone attempting suicide, use pepper spray on unarmed children, or practice selective enforcement.


Could you blame them? 


They were just trying to make this country safer.


---


“You have to believe me! There really was a bar here!”


Hearing the officers’ conversation, Bert, the man with the nose piercing, shouted excitedly. 


“It’s true! I’m not lying! In fact, I wasn’t the only one who went in—my friends were with me too…”


“Yes, yes, a bar full of monsters,” the officer responded dismissively. 


He nodded while looking at the red-faced and alcohol-reeking Bert. 


“Mr. Bert, Halloween is long over.” 


After jotting down the incident report, the officer closed his notebook, glanced at the alley wall—covered in random graffiti but with no trace of a bar—and then addressed Bert.


“Now, because you filed a false report and wasted police resources, you’ll need to pay a $500 fine.”


“A fine? Why?!”


“Everything I said was true! I didn’t make a false report!” 


Bert’s expression grew more agitated upon hearing the fine. 


However, the officers were equally prepared for this reaction.


In the alley, the two policemen exchanged a glance. With practiced ease, they drew their weapons, issued a warning, and swiftly detained Bert.


“Suspect resisted arrest. Apprehension in progress,” one officer stated. 


With Bert subdued, the officers turned their attention to the remaining four individuals, their gazes sharp and probing.


“Perhaps one of you also went into this so-called bar?” 


“…”


Under the officers’ intimidating stares and the looming threat of a $500 fine, Cassie and the others quickly shook their heads.


“No, officer, we’ve never seen any bar. Never…”


---


**[Plot Points]:** 3513  

Meanwhile, while Bert and his group suffered due to the bar incident, something else was happening in a nearby apartment.


Inside his room, Allen glanced at the shattered system interface showing the [Plot Points] total and shook his head in mild dissatisfaction.


Overall, the script for *The Strange Bar* had demanded significant effort in terms of scene design. However, the final product hadn’t delivered the dramatic tension he’d envisioned. Perhaps due to the fragmented nature of the characters, many of the scenarios he’d imagined didn’t translate as effectively into reality.


Some parts of the plot even felt, to Allen, like cheap effects from a B-movie. 


If not for the 1,000 [Plot Points] spent on the bar’s environment for atmosphere, the script might not have met even the most basic requirements.


“Turns out, the rookie mistake is overthinking things.”


Whether a new director or a novice screenwriter, people often imbue their projects with disproportionate meaning. The result is usually an overly complex story that no one can follow.


Allen had clearly fallen into this trap. 


After using the system to simulate *The Loop,* he had rushed into creating a far more complicated ensemble piece with *The Strange Bar.*


Still, compared to those who end up universally criticized, Allen considered himself lucky. 


His script had been brought to life through the system’s simulation in the real world. With the system’s assistance, even a story with limited narrative strength managed to fulfill its basic purpose: generating enough [Plot Points].


“Maybe I should try writing a story rooted in something I know—a narrative from the real world—instead of conjuring scripts from thin air.”


His gaze fell on the [Plot Points] displayed on the system’s broken interface, and he silently reflected.


After a few moments, Allen snapped out of his thoughts. His focus shifted to another page of the interface.


Reflection was important, but actions couldn’t be neglected. 


Regardless of his satisfaction with the outcome, *The Strange Bar* was complete. Instead of obsessing over its flaws, he figured it was better to see what items the system had converted from the script and made available for redemption.


---


**[****System & Backend**** History … Record … Redeem &* Items&*]:**


**[Script 2]:** *The Strange Bar*  

**[World Integration Rate]:** 0.02%  


**[Plot Item – Inferior Elixir of Immortality]** (300/Redemption)  

- **Effect:** Immortality  

- **Description:** This is a poorly made elixir of immortality. Drinking it will grant you a faint trace of vitality.  

- **Note 1:** Trust me, you don’t want to know what ingredients went into making this.  

- **Note 2:** Immortality isn’t a blessing—it’s a cruel curse.  


---


**[Plot Scene Card – Burning Bones Bar (2/2)]** (500)  

- **Card Level:** Black Iron  

- **Description:** You can insert this scene into any script without consuming additional [Plot Points].  

- **Note:** This is a peculiar bar. The owner seems to harbor a secret no one knows.


---


*(End of Chapter)*

**Chapter 21: Scene Card **

**[Inferior Elixir of Immortality]**

Although bearing the prefix **[Inferior]**, the significance it represents is hard to overlook.

After all, anything labeled with the allure of immortality is bound to attract attention.

For humans, the temptation of eternal life is nearly impossible to resist.

Even Allen is not immune to this universal desire.

However, compared to the average person, Allen manages to maintain a certain level of rationality.

Especially considering that, as the creator of the script for the **[Inferior Elixir of Immortality]**, categorized by the system as a **[Plot Prop]**, he is well aware that the so-called "Elixir of Immortality" in the *Strange Tavern* script is far from as wonderful as it appears. Hidden behind it is a cost even more cruel than immortality itself.

From a practical perspective, it’s also worth noting:

The system rates the **[Inferior Elixir of Immortality]** at just 300 **[Plot Points]** for redemption.

This makes it clear that the effects of drinking it would hardly live up to the grandeur suggested by its name.

The term **[Inferior]** itself reflects the truth behind the item's glamorous facade.

Shifting his focus away from the system's description of the **[Inferior Elixir of Immortality]**, Allen's gaze moves slightly downward to the data panel. His eyes land on another item, which intrigues him even more than the trap-laden elixir.

**[Plot Scene Card]**

This is a type of system prop that Allen has never encountered before.

Well, to be fair, Allen hasn’t seen many types of props at all.

When he first acquired the system, it was so broken that even its basic functions were inoperable. Although some features have since been restored, the crucial **[Shop]** function remains unusable, leaving Allen clueless about the variety of props that might originally have been available.

Still, the sudden appearance of the **[Plot Scene Card]** on the data panel was a welcome surprise.

After carefully reading the system's description of the **[Plot Scene Card]** multiple times, Allen was able to confirm its functionality.

Essentially, the **[Plot Scene Card]** operates like a film set in real-world productions. Once redeemed, it allows the *Strange Tavern* setting to reappear in future scripts without consuming additional **[Plot Points]**.

Moreover, Allen noticed something intriguing in the description: the card’s **[Bronze]** grade.

If **[Bronze]** is a tier, then higher levels like **[Silver]** or **[Gold]** might exist for other **[Plot Scene Cards]** or similar items.

The possibility excited Allen, making him look at the system with renewed enthusiasm.

“Still, it’s too early to think about that,” he muttered.

Allen quickly suppressed his growing excitement.

Even if things turn out as he hopes, that’s a matter for the distant future.

“High-tier props don’t materialize out of thin air. They require scripts of corresponding complexity, which in turn demand more **[Plot Points].**”

This is especially evident in the *Strange Tavern* script.

The inclusion of the **[Inferior Elixir of Immortality]** consumed a significant portion of Allen’s **[Plot Points]**, leaving insufficient resources to achieve the desired effects in later sections of the script.

To put it in real-world terms, the **[Inferior Elixir of Immortality]** was like hiring a superstar actor for a production. The budget required to accommodate their role forced other parts of the project to be scaled back, ultimately reducing the overall quality.

“In the end, it all comes down to a lack of **[Plot Points].**”

“If I had enough **[Plot Points],** I wouldn’t have to agonize over all these trade-offs.”

Glancing at the meager 3,000 **[Plot Points]** displayed on the system's broken interface, Allen felt no joy—only frustration at his own poverty.

If even a modest script like *Strange Tavern* cost 1,500 **[Plot Points]** to produce, how could he expect to create anything more ambitious with just over 3,000 points?

Unless he resorted to crafting smaller scripts like *Cycle* to slowly accumulate **[Plot Points]** through repeated small-scale events.

But Allen had no desire to settle for that.

“Maybe I should set the next script in Los Angeles…”

A story unfolding in a bustling city like Los Angeles would undoubtedly create a much greater impact than in a smaller area like Compton.

It could also help Allen quickly accumulate the **[Plot Points]** he desperately needed.

With enough **[Plot Points],** all concerns about future scripts or prop redemptions would vanish.

Yet, after an intense internal debate, Allen ultimately decided to abandon this tempting idea.

As the saying goes, “Better safe than sorry.”

While setting a script in downtown Los Angeles might yield a wealth of **[Plot Points],** the risks would increase just as dramatically. As the largest economic hub in the western United States, Los Angeles has far greater population density and law enforcement presence than Compton.

If something went wrong during the script's evolution, and Allen lacked the **[Plot Points]** to fix it, the consequences could easily backfire. Worse, any unforeseen fallout might hinder his ability to use the system for future scripts.

It was safer to remain cautious.

Creating scripts steadily and gradually evolving reality aligned better with his role as a mastermind behind the scenes.

Besides, even if he couldn’t earn massive amounts of **[Plot Points]** from the system in one go, that didn’t mean Allen was out of options.

Let’s not forget—Allen is also a professional screenwriter.

Both *The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2* and *Modern Family* are already in pre-production. With patience, Allen could wait until these projects were released. Once they hit the screens, the **[Plot Points]** he needed would naturally follow.

“So, I just have to wait?”

---

*(End of Chapter)*