That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B!

”FUCK YOU, YOU USELESS WORM!”

Did Finn’s overwhelming, ruthless thoughts bleed across the collective consciousness and affect him?

No, Suzuki knew perfectly well that he had simply snapped. Or rather, he had finally awakened. He realized he had absolutely no need to bow his head ever again just to survive. His submissive, groveling life—where he had to blindly swallow the toxic ’common sense’ of corporate Japan—was officially over. He no longer harbored the paralyzing fear of starving or becoming destitute due to a sudden layoff.

In fact, he couldn’t care less if he was fired.

Instead, a wild, intoxicating thrill coursed through Suzuki’s veins. He felt like he could become the King of this World! Sure, the thought was laughably arrogant, but when years of suppressed frustration were violently blown away by the ultimate cheat skill, nothing felt impossible anymore. Granted, he was far too lazy to attempt actual world domination; his ultimate endgame was just to live an incredibly comfortable, ridiculously lazy life.

But before he walked out into the cool night air, he had to make sure that corporate worm would never have the chance to ruin anyone else’s life.

Manager, blow open all of his dirty secrets.

[Affirmative.]

In a fraction of a microsecond, the Manager silently infiltrated the company’s servers, compiled a devastating, irrefutable dossier of Yamashita’s embezzlements, plagiarized code, and inappropriate workplace messages, and scheduled an anonymous mass email to the entire executive board and HR department.

Whatever happened to Yamashita next didn’t matter.

Suzuki knew his physical outburst might have been slightly hasty. Technically, he could be charged with assault. But frankly, with the Manager covering his digital footprints and holding enough blackmail material to sink the entire management team, he didn’t care. While the rest of the office sat frozen in a stunned, breathless daze, Suzuki spat on the floor next to Yamashita, grabbed his jacket, and walked out without a single backward glance.

No one could even react. The monotonous, soul-crushing routine of Jigokumeguri System Engineering had never witnessed such raw, unfiltered drama.

While the younger employees were secretly thrilled by the explosion of chaos, Kobayashi—Suzuki’s direct senior—was painfully aware of the massive bureaucratic nightmare that was about to unfold.

”Ugh...”

Kobayashi aggressively rubbed her temples, feeling a massive migraine coming on. She turned to her desk neighbor. ”Takiya, I am going to chase after him. You stay here and run damage control with management.”

”Okay, leave it to me,” Makoto Takiya nodded, letting out a heavy, helpless sigh.

Yet, without a doubt, absolutely no one in that room felt sorry for the bleeding Yamashita.

Meanwhile, Suzuki stepped out onto the neon-lit streets of 2013 Tokyo. The cool Friday night air felt like absolute freedom.

As a newly empowered member of the Suzuki hivemind, he pondered his next move. The possibilities were endless. He could replicate the famous works of other universes, live like royalty, or simply wait for the financial markets to open on Monday. With the Manager’s precognition and calculation abilities—now supercharged by Finn’s evolution into a True Satan—he could easily dominate the stock market using the legendary ’Forex Technique’ developed by the Suzuki of the Jujutsu Kaisen world.

Hmm... should I just focus on programming?

After all, every Suzuki had their niche. The Naruto Suzuki dominated medicine, the JJK Suzuki mastered physics, the Arifureta Suzuki controlled economics. While many of them didn’t need to study and just focused on raw combat power, this Suzuki wasn’t even sure if he could evolve biologically, let alone learn magic.

Wait. Now that I think about it, magic definitely exists here, right?

If Suzuki remembered the lore of Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid correctly, the actual CEO of his software company was a powerful magician from another world, and the CEO’s son literally summoned a fallen god dragon! This slice-of-life world wasn’t nearly as mundane as it appeared. There was a legitimate chance for him to acquire supernatural strength.

But for now, he was just glad he could share his advanced software engineering knowledge.

For now, let’s just focus on liquid cash, Suzuki decided, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Money equaled freedom. It provided the ultimate safety net. With enough capital, he could experiment, take risks, and live exactly how he wanted. And honestly, with the Manager backing him, was failure even a statistical possibility?

So, in the technological landscape of 2013, what was the fastest way to print money?

This was the golden age of the digital ”Wild West.” While the stock market was closed for the weekend, the internet never slept.

Should I snipe the auctions?

In 2013, Yahoo! Auctions was the undisputed king of Japanese second-hand sales. But the search engine was strictly, rigidly text-based. If a desperate seller made a typo in the title or didn’t know the exact model number of their item, human buyers would never find it. The listing would essentially vanish into the digital void.

More importantly, it was Friday night. This was the absolute peak time for ”desperation listings.” Salarymen who had just gambled away their paychecks at a Pachinko parlor, or hostesses who desperately needed rent money by Monday, would grab whatever valuables they owned, snap a terrible, blurry photo with an early smartphone, and list it for quick cash.

A normal scalper would have to manually, painfully refresh their browser all night. Suzuki just smiled and outsourced it.

He had the Manager scan the raw image data of every single newly uploaded photo on the Yahoo! Auctions servers in real-time, completely ignoring the sellers’ terrible, misspelled titles.

[Listing Found: ”Old heavy watch, need gone tonight” - 15,000 JPY Buy It Now.]

To a human searching for ”Rolex,” it was invisible junk. But the Manager instantly analyzed the blurry pixels and confirmed it was a genuine Rolex Submariner (Reference 16610) easily worth 500,000 JPY.

Suzuki didn’t hesitate. Buy.

Within minutes, he drained the 150,000 JPY from his meager savings account, instantly purchasing a Rolex, two vintage Leica camera lenses, and a rare Gibson guitar—all hilariously mislabeled by desperate, uninformed sellers.

Tomorrow, I’ll liquidate all of this at the high-end pawn shops in Akihabara and Shinjuku, Suzuki planned happily. According to the Manager’s ultra-conservative estimates, he would walk away with at least 1.2 million yen in clean, untraceable cash.

But he didn’t stop there. While hunting for physical treasures, he also directed the Manager to exploit the hottest digital commodity of 2013: Puzzle & Dragons starter accounts.

The Japanese mobile gaming industry was absolutely dominated by P&D. The gacha mechanics were notoriously brutal. When a new player started the game, they had to sit through a tedious, unskippable 15-minute tutorial just to get one single free pull at the ”Rare Egg Machine.”

Exhausted Japanese salarymen, flush with disposable income but drained by 80-hour workweeks, refused to spend their precious weekends manually rerolling accounts. If they saw a ”Starter Account” featuring a top-tier god—like Horus, Bastet, or Archangel Lucifer—listed on Yahoo! Auctions for 8,000 to 10,000 JPY, they would hit ”Buy It Now” without a second thought.

How did Suzuki capitalize on this?

He had the Manager virtually simulate 500 tutorial completions in exactly 0.03 seconds. Out of those 500 accounts, the game server randomly granted about 8 of them a Horus or an Archangel Lucifer. The Manager instantly kept the winning accounts, permanently deleted the 492 useless ones, and seamlessly repeated the loop.

Within two hours of walking down the street, Suzuki had silently stockpiled 50 perfect, ”God-tier” starter accounts. At 10,000 yen a pop, he had just generated half a million yen while casually strolling with his hands in his pockets.

Yup. Having an AI cheat skill is amazing, Suzuki smirked.

He was already planning the rest of his evening—a massive, expensive dinner at a high-end yakiniku restaurant, followed by a long, luxurious sleep in a nice hotel—when a familiar, panting voice called out behind him.

”Suzuki! Wait a second! Don’t leave yet!”

”Senpai?”

Suzuki stopped and turned around. Jogging up to him under the glow of a streetlamp was his direct senior. She was panting heavily, her glasses slightly askew, and her necktie loosened haphazardly around her collar.

Kobayashi.

Technically, she was the fated protagonist of this universe. Or maybe the heroine? Her gender was female, but given her complete lack of curves, her dead-fish eyes, and her chronically slouched posture, the line was hilariously blurred.

Remembering the plot of the world he now inhabited, the dynamic felt a bit awkward. But as Suzuki looked at her flushed cheeks and messy red hair bathed in the neon lights of Tokyo, he had to admit—his senior didn’t look bad at all.