I want to become a Kamen Rider

When you possess everything, even if you call a deer a horse, no one dares to utter a word of dissent; when you are down on your luck and wandering, even if you are carrying gold and silver, they will be taken away. Ultimately, a person must rely on themselves to live—this is Fan Kang's creed.

But he still came to Ginza, intending to buy himself and Tina Hiiragi a decent set of clothes, because this trip was not to be the invincible knight again, but... a businessman.

Dignity and luxury became a necessity.

The boy, hand in hand with the purple-haired girl beside him, stepped purposefully into Ginza's most prestigious clothing boutique—a place whose window displays alone were enough to deter ordinary people. Without any unnecessary pleasantries, he went straight to the well-trained sales clerk, his voice flat:

"Here, the most expensive ones, two sets, no custom orders, choose within fifteen minutes. I'm in a rush."

There won't be any of those clichéd stories of people looking down on others. The shop assistants who can make it in this kind of place are all very perceptive. Perhaps Fan Kang doesn't have that kind of naturally noble and unparalleled elegance, but the man who stands atop a mountain of corpses from countless enemies such as Gurongi, demonic wraiths, mirror monsters, and undead beasts, and reaches the end of the long road, has an amazing aura in another sense.

Instead, it was someone's female companion who expressed suspicion towards him:

"Um, Minister, I'm very happy that you want to buy me clothes, but do you really have the money?"

"I've wanted to complain for a long time, what kind of image do I have in your mind?"

"You poor wretch. You even have to have someone make your bento box, you can't even afford to buy comics and have to steal them from others, and sometimes you can't even afford water and have to steal Hachiman Hikigaya's coffee."

The purple-haired girl counted on her fingers; the evidence was irrefutable, leaving him speechless.

"...Anyway, this time it's paid for with public funds, so get inside and try on the clothes."

He shoved Tina Hiiragi into the fitting room, casually grabbed a few decent-looking women's clothes from the rack, and handed them to the sales assistant, indicating that the girl inside should try them on. He then found a place to sit down, leisurely took out his phone, opened Poker King, and prepared to put the tactics from his dream last night into practice.

In the first game, I failed to get the first attack and encountered Tears of Sorrow, so I disconnected!

With a sigh, Fan Kang put down his phone and looked out the window.

For others, coming to Ginza to shop and spending lavishly in such a place is something worth mentioning and taking photos for. But for him, buying clothes here is no different from when he used to sleep under bridges and haggling for half a day on the street to get a second-hand shirt for 500 yen less.

These are all just choices made along the way to adapt to the environment in order to achieve a certain goal.

Soon, the fitting room door opened. Tina Hiiragi was led out by the shop assistant. She had changed into a modern women's outfit with a clean cut and a strong sense of design; the expensive fabric shimmered with a subtle sheen under the carefully designed lighting.

The sales assistant, with a perfectly professional smile, was about to begin her introduction: "This outfit you're wearing, miss, is the latest design of the season, personally crafted by the master designer Pierre Cardin, inspired by..."

"Swipe the card." The boy didn't even lift his eyelids, directly interrupting the clerk's carefully prepared compliments, and handed over the black card. Realizing that he couldn't use the black card here, he switched to a gold card.

"Uh...yes, sir." The clerk hesitated for a moment, then immediately took the card.

For her second outfit, Tina Hiiragi changed into an exquisite vintage-style dress; the combination of lace and silk made her look like a delicate porcelain doll. The shop assistant approached again, attempting to explain its craftsmanship and history…

"Master Karl Lagerfeld creates eight collections for Chanel every year, and the one you're wearing is..."

"Swipe your card." Those two simple words once again concluded the introduction.

Hiiragi Tina stole a glance at the long string of dizzying zeros on the tag, and when she saw that the card was actually swiped through again without any hindrance, she was completely petrified.

She looked at Fan Kang in disbelief, her voice trembling slightly: "Minister...you wouldn't...finally decide to be kinder to yourself and make a 'compromise' with Eleanor, would you?"

High emotional intelligence: Be kinder to yourself and compromise with Eleanor.

Low emotional intelligence: Avoiding twenty years of detours, he submitted himself to the wealthy Eleanor.

The boy chuckled, stood up, walked over to her, and deftly ripped off the unsightly price tag, tossing it into the nearby trash can.

"I made all the compromises I've ever made in my life in the first thirty years, and I will never compromise again since. Even if I were to compromise again, it would never be for myself."

He led the still somewhat bewildered Tina Hiiragi out of the store. Outside, a colossal vehicle, incongruous with the surrounding pedestrian street, stood quietly at the intersection, like a deep-sea monster awaiting its owner's return. It was a Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended Wheelbase, the long-wheelbase version of the Phantom. Since people were unlikely to recognize Eleanor's car, she could only choose a model in this price range.

Its massive size contrasted sharply with the surrounding "No Entry" signs, clearly indicating that vehicles are not allowed in Ginza on weekends.

What is before us is clearly an exception, but not to flaunt one's status like most powerful and wealthy people do, but to weave a shocking deception for the sake of the world.

The driver, dressed in a crisp uniform, had already respectfully opened the car door. Fan Kang led Tina Hiiragi into the car, which resembled a small, luxurious living room. The door closed silently, shutting out the hustle and bustle of Ginza.

The interior of the car is the epitome of luxury. The large, soft leather sofas are like thrones, with a delicate and warm touch. Underfoot is a thick, handmade wool carpet that absorbs all noise. Above, Rolls-Royce's signature starlight headliner is simulating a tranquil night sky, with soft "starlight" falling gently.

In the middle of the carriage, a miniature bar rose up, next to a built-in temperature-controlled cigar cabinet, and a car refrigerator gleamed with a cool light. The boy casually opened the refrigerator, and in the cool air, several crystal wine bottles of various shapes were revealed, with labels such as Dom Périgno 2002 vintage and Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes.

On an exquisite bone china plate beside them were several molecular gastronomy-level appetizers: a crisp biscuit topped with Iranian Osetra sturgeon caviar, a glistening jelly ball encasing French Rougier foie gras mousse, and a lukewarm tart decorated with Italian white truffle shavings. The air was filled with an aroma of top-quality leather, chilled wine, and rare ingredients—an aroma so expensive it was almost suffocating.

Of course, the man had no idea about these strange names and meaningless, complicated origins; everything was told to him by the driver who had appeared as a waiter that day. Unable to find a bottle of Coke that cost 185 yen, Fan Kang closed the refrigerator door in disappointment.

Hiiragi Tina sat cautiously on the soft sofa, barely daring to move, curiously and nervously surveying everything in this moving palace, feeling as if she were dreaming. Meanwhile, the young man, dressed in a perfectly tailored, top-quality dark handmade suit, looking like a business tycoon, leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed after not drinking his cola, and spoke calmly to a figure almost blending into the darkness in the shadows of the carriage:

"Shadowmoon, is the proposal finished?"

Shadow Moon?

Hiiragi Tina looked in the direction of the voice, somewhat surprised. The Blue Island Speaker, who never removed her mask and was rumored to be a robot in the Knights Council, was actually here?

The figure in the shadows moved. She leaned forward, entering the soft light of the starlight canopy. It was a tall, elegant young woman, wearing a well-fitting dark business suit that accentuated her stunning curves.

"The acquisition plan has been initially drafted, but there are still many details that need to be revised."

The girl known as "Shadowmoon" looked up, and a face so exquisitely beautiful it resembled a doll came into Hiiragi Tina's view. The girl's facial features were impeccably proportioned, and beneath long eyelashes were a pair of deep, dark eyes as cold as a deep pool. Her full and proud bust created a strong visual impact under her formal attire, forming a strange contrast with her cold and ascetic temperament.

She handed a stack of neatly printed and beautifully bound documents to the minister with respectful and obedient movements.

It wasn't until the minister pulled a grotesque black mask covered in dark gold patterns from his suit pocket, and Shadow Moon, as if receiving a silent command, produced a full-face helmet of the same style, radiating an ominous blue-green glow, and handed Hiiragi Tina a pitch-black helmet covered in sharp edges that looked sinister, that Hiiragi Tina suddenly realized that something seemed... not quite right!

Through the crimson visor of her helmet, Yingyue looked at the minister, her cool voice carrying a hint of barely perceptible hesitation:

"...Wouldn't that be a bit too nouveau riche?"

"He's just pretending to be a nouveau riche."

The minister casually tossed the documents in his hand onto the expensive leather chair, looking imposing.

Although I really want to complain that, based on your financial situation and daily life, Minister, you are just a nouveau riche and don't need to pretend at all, that's not the point.

Watching the street scene outside the window change rapidly, Hiiragi Tina could no longer hold back. Clutching the cold, heavy, evil helmet, she looked at the boy beside her, whose demeanor had completely changed:

"Minister, what exactly are we going to do there?"

Like a giant whale in the deep sea, the extended Phantom sailed steadily and domineeringly into a vast park on the shore of Tokyo Bay, transformed from old heavy industrial factories and filled with a postmodern decadent artistic feel.

At the park entrance, a huge, distorted metal sign with a strong steampunk style gleams with a cold, hard light in the setting sun—it's an abstract pattern that blends gears, eagle wings, and volcanoes, with a line of equally stylized English letters below:

【SHOCKER】

The boy leaned back in the soft chair, two dark red lights gleaming in the masked eyes, like demonic eyes opening from the abyss. His voice came through the mask, calmly offering an answer that would send shivers down the spines of anyone who knew the truth:

"Acquire Schuker."

Chapter 123 The World Belongs to Shocker (5K)

Inside the park, on the top floor office.

The air was thick with the lingering scent of expensive cigars and an even stronger sense of panic. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows was a meticulously planned park landscape, with fountains, greenery, and gleaming buildings, all showcasing the enviable "success" this place once possessed.

However, the scene inside the office was completely at odds with this respectable image.

Lava, hailed as the "Stock God of Shocker" and the "Godfather of Investment and Financial Management," was staring intently at the enormous screen that occupied the entire wall. On the screen, the curve that had once brought him unparalleled glory and wealth, symbolizing the stock price movement of Volcano Corporation, was now plummeting downwards at a despairing angle. The screen was filled with a glaring, ghastly green, like a cold, venomous snake coiling around his heart, tightening its grip ever more.

Lava, hailed as an "investment guru" and "stock market genius," was clutching his greasy hair tightly with both hands. The stinging pain in his scalp could not alleviate the agony in his heart. His bloodshot eyes were fixed on the ever-descending green curve, which seemed to have no end, and a low growl like that of a trapped beast escaped his throat.

"Damn it...damn it! Why? Why is it still falling?!"

He slammed his fist on the expensive mahogany desk, making the gilded lucky cat figurine on it tremble. "It doesn't make sense! My model can't be wrong! How could the project that Lava has his eye on..."

He paced back and forth in his office, which was piled high with various "investment bibles" and "wealth secrets," like a restless, trapped beast. His expensive crocodile-skin shoes slammed heavily on the thick carpet. Suddenly, he stopped, a glint of what he thought was a profound understanding flashing in his eyes. Pointing at the screen, his voice hoarse and distorted with excitement:

"Capital! Yes, it must be capital! I must have been set up by capital! Those bloodsuckers on Wall Street! Those bastards who can't stand to see others succeed, they've teamed up to short me!"

He seemed to have found a scapegoat, angrily waving his fists and roaring at the air, spittle flying everywhere.

But this anger was quickly overwhelmed by a deeper fear and regret. He slumped back into the enormous executive chair, a symbol of his "stock market guru" status, the expensive leather groaning under its weight. He covered his face with his hands, and painful murmurs escaped through his fingers:

"Damn it... I should have quit while I was ahead... I made so much money... You're so greedy... Lava, you're just so greedy!"

He slapped himself hard across the face, the sound crisp and loud. Then, a deeper fear gripped him, his voice trembling as if he were dying.

"It's over... How much longer can we keep this a secret... The money of those 'believers'... The funds of those organizations..."

He raised his head, his bloodshot eyes scanning the luxurious office built with the organization's hard-earned money. Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows was a meticulously maintained but unappreciated courtyard. Expensive antique ornaments were covered in dust in the corners, and on the wall hung photos of him with other Shocker organization leaders from all walks of life... All of this was built on the ever-collapsed bubble called "Stock God".

Now, the bubble is about to burst.

Just then, there was a cautious knock on the office door. A subordinate, dressed in a cheap suit and with a face paler than lava, practically stumbled in, his voice trembling uncontrollably:

"Boss...he's here...the leader of the Dilza Legion...he's here in person. He's outside, saying he wants to have a serious talk with you...about the acquisition plan!"

"what?"

Lava sprang up from his chair like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his face instantly turning from deathly pale to ashen, then flushed crimson with extreme rage. He slammed his fist on the table again, this time with such force that the coffee cup on the table jumped, splashing brown liquid onto the documents.

"Damn it! This is outrageous!!"

He let out a hysterical roar, spitting in his subordinate's face.

"Acquisition? On what grounds? We were all driven to the brink by that damned Kuuga, licking our wounds in the shadows, plotting a comeback in that dark organization. Back then... back then, I even attended an investment and financial conference in the underworld with their damned boss. I even kindly shared a lot of 'insider information' and 'trading experience' with them. And they... they didn't even show us any mercy?"

He paced wildly around the office like a wounded beast, waving his fists and roaring at the non-existent "leader of the Dirza Legion":

"We are all born of the same root, why are you so eager to harm each other? You bunch of ungrateful wretches, you're just kicking someone when they're down, aren't you? You're taking advantage of their misfortune!"

The roar of impotent rage echoed in the soundproof office, filled with the resentment of betrayal and the despair of having nowhere else to turn.

The subordinates were so frightened that they huddled at the doorway, not daring to breathe.

The roar of the lava gradually turned into heavy breathing. He stumbled to the huge French windows, ripped open the heavy blackout curtains, and blinding sunlight flooded in, causing him to instinctively squint. But the next moment, his pupils suddenly contracted, and his body stiffened like a stone.

At the park entrance, a massive, jet-black Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended Wheelbase, resembling a lurking beast, stood silently. Its sleek and imposing lines reflected a cold metallic sheen in the sunlight, creating a stark contrast with the park's somewhat dilapidated entrance.

It was not merely a symbol of wealth, but a silent, overwhelming declaration.

Lava's hand fell limply to his sides, his last shred of hope and anger extinguished by the cold reality before him. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, as if an invisible hand were gripping his heart, making it hard to breathe.

"Hehe...hehe..."

He let out a few dry, desperate laughs, staggered back a few steps, and slumped back into his chair, his eyes completely devoid of light, filled only with endless ashes.

He muttered to himself, his voice hollow.

"They're back. The Delza Legion, which suffered a major setback in the healthcare sector and almost collapsed... Is it really back? Back to settle everything and take back those priceless stocks that belonged to them, which I held on their behalf?"

He stared at the blinding green abyss on the screen, as if he were witnessing his meticulously constructed "stock market god" empire crumbling before his eyes, along with all his status, wealth, and illusory glory, all to be mercilessly crushed and taken away by the owner of that black behemoth.

Shocker's throne as the stock market guru... he couldn't hold on to it any longer.

……

……

The park is filled with the smell of stale engine oil and a faint sense of decay. The former heavy industrial buildings have been transformed into a postmodern style, but they cannot hide their inherent emptiness and barely maintained state.

The masked men of the Dirza Legion sat arrogantly on a luxurious leather chair that was clearly brought in temporarily and was completely out of place with their surroundings.

He had a female companion on each side: on the left was a petite purple-haired girl in an expensive dress, her face scrunched up, wearing a helmet. She looked like a rabbit being forcibly placed next to a tiger, very uncomfortable; on the right was a tall girl with a proud chest, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, and with long, straight black hair and a cold and elegant demeanor.

She was expressionless, even with a hint of formulaic obedience, like a perfect prop.

The masked man let out an exaggerated snort, casually picked up the thick, beautifully bound acquisition plan handed to him by the girl with long, straight black hair, and with a flick of his wrist, the stack of documents was thrown like a dart, hitting precisely on the lava face across the desk, where the man's expression was extremely ugly.

The papers were scattered all over the ground, like the dignity of lava shattered at this moment.

"This is the acquisition plan, take a look."

"Can't...can't we just have two more days?!"

"Lava, we're all from the Dark Organization, I don't want to make things too ugly."

The masked man stood up, paced around, and pointed to the dilapidated park.

“Look at this, look at this equipment of yours. How much can it be sold for? Even if it could be sold, would anyone dare to buy it? When your company was insolvent, it was me, our Delza Legion, who kindly lent it to you, allowing you to survive. But what did you do? When the Delza Legion was attacked by the Air Force and was about to be wiped out, you stood by and watched, expecting to inherit our legacy.”

He approached the slumped lava in the chair step by step, each step feeling like stepping on the other's heart:

"But you didn't expect this, did you? I survived by currying favor with that mistress of mine. Now, it's time to settle everything! Everything that belongs to the Dilza Legion, I will take it all back!"

The masked man's voice carried a twisted sense of pleasure and a hoarseness of surviving a catastrophe. He walked over and lifted the collar of the ashen-faced man's clothes.

"Answer me, look into my eyes, answer me, lava!"

He slammed the lava onto the ground like trash, then pointed out the window, at the Shocker combatants and low-level monsters who had gathered outside the office building, angry but unable to speak out, their expressions filled with bewilderment. His voice was loud and cruel:

“Answer me, Lava! Look me in the eye and answer me! With this mess you've made, with your nearly empty pockets, can you support these hundreds of people outside? Can you afford the expensive daily expenses these weirdos need? Can you promise them a future? Can you fucking pay them their social security and housing fund? Can you guarantee their overtime pay and holidays?!”

He glanced around at the Shocker members, whose eyes were now even more shaken because their sore spots had been touched, and summarized in an almost pitying tone:

"Learning to let go is true love. You, Lava, don't have that ability."