Don't Mess with the Delivery Guy on the Seventh Floor

I swear, I must have committed sins for eight lifetimes to end up living in this “nest of bad seeds” called the Reclamation Estate. Nobody in the whole building is normal, from upstairs and downstairs to the neighbors next door. The entire building mooches off my Wi-Fi, then curses me in the group chat when it lags. The rubbish piled by the entrance reeks so badly I don’t dare open my windows. Some brat smashed my brand-new motorcycle to pieces, and his dad called me a broke loser. And the worst of all is the lunatic on the twelfth floor. He just killed his own father, then bragged in the group chat that he’s mentally ill and the police can’t touch him. Every day I live like a doormat, furious and miserable, but completely helpless against these animals. Then one day, I fell off my motorcycle and hit my head on a rock. I thought I was going to die, but then… a sudden “buzz” rang through my mind, and the whole world changed. I could see dust in the air, hear everyone in the building breathing, and think faster than a computer. Lying on the ground, I laughed. You “wonderful neighbors,” your comeuppance has arrived. From today on, we’re settling both old and new scores.