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Whenever I had tough fights with my father, I would run away from home. So I had some experience eating in soup kitchens. Depending on how hungry you were, a bowl of bland chicken broth and rock-hard bread still tasted like heaven.

Most of those people were good people who just needed a little help. Unlike me, who had a home, but ended up there because of my pride. My arrogance made me rebellious. Fortunately, life saw fit to beat me back into submission.

That was until I was old enough to get a job. But truly, the clutches of poverty were perhaps the hardest to escape. As I remembered my past, I saw the soup kitchen close its doors.

This was despite more people waiting in line. Resources weren\'t finite, so they probably ran out of food. Unconsciously, I walked up to the long line of people and in a strong voice exclaimed.

"I will feed you. Follow me."

There were about fifty to sixty people who heard my words and followed me like sheep. I led the procession of hungry people to the diner where I had come from.

I didn\'t know when, but as we walked, more and more people joined us. By the time we reached the diner, only fifteen minutes away, there were well over a hundred.

The owners, seeing the mob, assumed the worst and came out trembling with pistols and even an AR-15. A fat man in the middle of the group then shouted.

"I don\'t know why you\'re all here! But you will not rampage through my diner!"

Everyone in the soup kitchen remained silent, of course, waiting with bated breath for my response. I then stepped forward and addressed the man with the assault rifle.

"Please relax, they are with me. How much does this place make in a day?"

Still cautious, he replied, keeping his weapon at the ready.

"About $1200-$1300, $1500 on a good day. Why? Why did you bring these people here?"

As a frequent customer of this diner, I already had their digital account for mobile payments. Not wasting time, I opened my GRI and converted 2500 souls to cash. I then sent $2,000 to the diner owner\'s bank account.

In the same breath, a young man excitedly shouted.

"PA! Someone sent us $2000!"

"What? Who sent it? Why?" the man connected the dots then turned to me in confusion.

"How many of these people can you feed?" I asked, pointing behind me.

Understanding my intent, the man disarmed and quickly assessed the situation. The man went from being extremely hostile to grinning broadly.

"I can feed about 30 people like kings or everyone like peasants," he explained eagerly.

Of course, the more people ate, the less everyone got. I turned to face the mob behind me.

"Thirty stay here. Eat your fill and enjoy the day. The rest follow me."

Probably used to standing in line, the people I picked at random quickly formed an orderly line.

"Here are your thirty. Feed them with what you have. Keep the rest."

Elated by my response, the owner began to bow rapidly like a bobblehead.

"Understood, my lord! We will see to it that they are satisfied! Thank you, thank you! Um, how do I address you?"

"My name is John Smith," I answered casually.

"Of course it is. Heh. God bless you my Lord! All right everyone! Come on in! We will prepare a feast for you!"

"HELL YEAH!!"

"WAAAHHOOOO!

"THANK YOU SO MUCH MR. SMITH!"

Cheers naturally rang out from the group about to eat, those left behind had looks of envy and disgust. Chuckling to myself, I motioned for them to follow and moved on.

We walked towards another diner I knew. But somehow, instead of dwindling, our numbers swelled on the way. We looked like a parade. I didn\'t know there were so many homeless people in the area.

When we arrived, the same process repeated itself. They were scared, I gave them money, they smiled, and I left a group behind. I ended up repeating this process over twenty times.

It was well past noon by the time everyone was settled in. Personally, I had no idea how many I had fed, but the feeling wasn\'t bad.

Even though it was a complete waste of time, the smiles of the people as they happily ate their fill warmed my heart.

Then I noticed that there was a group with video cameras and microphones near me. Just as I was leaving the last of the starving people, a cute woman approached me.

"Hello Mr. Smith! I am Angie Emissora, Channel 7 News. Can I have a moment of your time, please?"

"..."

"Please! This story is too good not to report! Such acts of benevolence are extremely rare! I have made it my life\'s mission to cover only positive stories! Please let me do a short interview!"

Benevolence, huh? As much as I wanted to take credit, my actions amounted to nothing. Tomorrow these people will be hungry again and I will be gone.

Many would even suspect that I did this as a publicity stunt, like a Youtuber or an influencer.

\'I don\'t even appear on camera. How could you even do the interview?\' I complained in my mind.

As I found the situation annoying, I raised my fingers and snapped them in front of Angie and her cameraman while invoking death resonance.

"You did not see me. When you interview the homeless, no matter what they say, you will forget everything except my name. Good day, Ms. Emissora, and you too, Mr. Cameraman."

I immediately turned around and invoked the Death Resonance once more. It felt instinctive. Somehow I knew how to become invisible from everyone\'s point of view.

But just then, a feeling of danger enveloped me. Remaining silent, I tried to locate the source, only to give way to a familiar man.

"Zach?" I asked dumbfounded.

"Yo, bastard! Fucking around again, I see."