Life is Easier If You're Handsome novel Chapter 329

Wearing the suit and charging into a gang's base was already insane enough—but now that I’d heard him scream, it was clear he’d even used the built-in weapons.

That idiot—he would've normally panicked and run just from standing at the entrance! 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

I didn’t know what kind of sudden inspiration hit him, but I could bet good money that scream came from failing to handle the weapon recoil properly.

Back at MIT, we’d worked on multiple research projects. Published a handful of papers. Earned scholarship money based on that.

People always asked us what we planned to do with the funds. We never said a word. Instead, we dumped every cent into building an Iron Suit.

Of course, no one but Harley and I knew. Why the hell would we advertise that we were developing an armed suit in the garage?

Anyway, the suit we ended up building—turned out very different from what we imagined.

—"Wait, hold up... how did Stark even build this?"

—"He hammered some metal together and got Mark 1, and ours is worse than that?"

—"The arc reactor... that’s the real problem. We have way too little data on it."

—"We might need to go with file ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) bunker-style reinforced impact instead."

—"At this point, it’s basically an Iron Fist, not an Iron Man."

—"Forget repulsor beams for now—let’s just be satisfied with a gun."

—"Should we try rigging a single bazooka shot, just in case?"

Free aerial movement became limited glide. Flashy repulsor-beam combat was compromised by mimicking War Machine-style firepower.

That’s why we sealed it away.

Because when the suit’s internal weapons were used, the physical strain transmitted directly to the body.

No matter how many shock absorbers we added, bone-rattling impact was always going to be a health hazard.

And yet he’d used it now. From the sound of it... it was probably the bazooka.

Of course it hurts like hell—he’s taking the recoil from an anti-tank weapon head-on!

No matter how much we tried to reduce impact, a prototype’s tech can only go so far.

Tatatak!

My pace quickened. Thinking through which sprint technique would let me move even faster, my body had already arrived at the entrance to the gang base.

"...Shit."

First thing I saw: the crumpled metal door. He’d literally just rammed through it.

Behind the door, a few gang members lay unconscious from the shockwave. Clearly, he hadn’t even given them a chance to react—there wasn’t a single bullet mark near the entrance.

He took them all down.

A tiny button attached to each of the gang members’ bodies—the shock button we spent countless nights developing.

I can’t yell to find him.

As much as I wanted to call out for Harley, screaming his real name in the middle of enemy territory would be suicidal.

Even I had my face covered. Given the circumstances, the best possible decision was:

“I’ll just run around and find him.”

I had to search physically. Calling the cops was out of the question.

If anyone found out we were building a combat suit in the garage, we’d be drafted by the government before nightfall.

That was the worst-case scenario—and I had to avoid it no matter what.

Tatadadak!

The base was just a ruined factory illegally remodeled into a gang hideout, so its layout was simple.

A tall ceiling and a two-story structure. In places like this, the boss is always in a corner room on the second floor.

I sprinted straight up the stairs. And right then—

BOOM!

Another thunderous blast.

“Aaaaaaaaargh!”

Harley’s scream again. Right where I expected the boss to be.

I ran in without a moment’s pause. The first thing I saw—

“P-please! Please, I’m begging you!”

The HateRip boss, flattened on the floor, begging for his life.

“I—I can’t control it! I think overloading the circuits by activating too many weapons at once!”

Tudududududu!

Harley, panic-analyzing the situation, was firing wildly into the air. Thanks—or no thanks—to budget constraints, we hadn’t loaded much ammo.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

He was out of bullets fast.

“What’s the fix?”

“I’m scared shitless right now! My brainwaves are unstable—probably what’s messing with the suit! If I pass out, it should stabilize!”

“Hey, you lunatics! Quit talking crazy and save me, dammit!”

I ignored the boss’s whining and scanned the room for a way to take Harley down.

Why didn’t we install a failsafe system...

An AI protocol that auto-identifies enemies within a range and reacts. Thanks to that, I couldn’t just charge in.

And sure enough—

Beep beep beep!

Click.

Click.

The suit detected the empty magazine and auto-checked the surroundings for compatible ammo. As soon as it found a match, it reloaded on its own.

“...Duck!”

“I know!”

Tudududududu!

Another storm of bullets.

“Waaah! Please, I’m begging you! Selling drugs isn’t worth dying for! I’ll go to jail, just don’t kill me!”

The boss was screaming like a little girl.

“Aaaaaargh!”

Harley was getting burned—the gun mounts were overheating. The barrel’s heat was transferring into the suit and scalding his skin.

There’s gotta be a way to end this...

I was racing through options. If this kept up, everyone would die.

He was spraying bullets now, but who knew when the weapon would aim properly?

I’ll tackle him.

I grabbed the sturdiest table in the room.

“Let’s see you shoot this!”

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