"That's right, we are civilized people!" Lynch took a step back and adjusted his collar. "Is there anything else? If not, I'm leaving. I have a lot to do!"
Mike couldn't help but step forward again, growling softly, "This is between us, don't mess with my family, you're breaking the rules!"
"Rules?" Lynch appeared puzzled. "I'm not someone from your industry, and I haven't had dealings with you. Are you sure the rules you mentioned apply to me?"
He chuckled as he spoke, "Of course, I'm a law-abiding citizen, and I don't need you to remind me of that. If there's nothing else, I'll be on my way."
He looked at Mike, and they stared at each other for about three to five seconds before Mike moved aside. Lynch nodded slightly in acknowledgment and brushed past him.
Watching Lynch's departing figure, Mike displayed his ID inside his coat, then backed his car off the sidewalk, shortly parking in the driveway at home.
He quickly returned inside and saw his wife watching the daily afternoon soap opera. He swiftly went over to hug his surprised wife, "Nothing unusual happened just now, right?"
"I mean no one knocked on the door, or no one invaded our yard, correct?"
His wife was several years younger than he was. This was one reason why so many people wanted to enter the Federation's Tax Bureau every year. They have the highest salaries, best benefits, and most favorable work environment in the government system, along with various unexpected perks.
This also made every Federal Tax Bureau official highly desirable in the marriage market. Whether they were men or women, they could find their ideal partners.
Most men would choose women a bit younger, even three to five or ten years younger wasn't unusual.
Mike's wife was six years younger than him, and he cherished her very much.
"No, no one came, I've been sitting here watching TV all afternoon, I would have noticed if someone had come."
The front door faces the living room, so if anyone knocked or entered the yard, they could be seen through the bright windows on the wall. The afternoon was very quiet, so quiet it nearly put her to sleep.
Mike, with his arm around his wife's shoulder, sat on the sofa, unsure how to bring up his business trip and how to caution his wife about the possible reappearance of Lynch.
Meanwhile, after going around and buying some electrical supplies, Lynch returned to his temporary residence. He pulled out his key to unlock the door when someone suddenly pressed a sharp object against his waist from behind.
A voice with heavy bad breath whispered into his ear, "Where's my money?"
Lynch merely paused for a moment before continuing to open the door. He pushed the door open, stepped one foot inside, and said, "If you don't want anyone getting hurt, you'd better come in with me. We can resolve any issues through communication."
In this process of less than five seconds, Lynch had already identified the person behind him. Thanks to his years of experience in a past life, his twenty-year-old, energetic body, still at its peak, gave him an indescribable sense of exhilaration. Everything was under his control, and he had never felt so acutely aware of his own strength.
The person at the door hesitated but still followed because over two thousand dollars was no small sum for him. He was surprised that this young man Lynch was unafraid of his knife.
The room was small, with a bedroom connected to the front door and a washroom inside. The room faintly smelled of... feces. The badge had a raised eyebrow; he had expected the place to be cleaner.
That night, Lynch had scrubbed for a long time to get rid of the feces and water that had soaked into his pants, yet the smell lingered. Despite washing it many times and using air freshener, some of the odor was still unavoidable.
"Your matter with Mike has nothing to do with me, just give me back my money!" The badge waved the dagger in his hand, reiterating his point.
After returning, he had collected the wrapped newspapers from the newspaper boys, only to find there were just over two thousand dollars, short by nearly two thousand six or seven hundred dollars. This sum wasn't small, representing possibly several months of his income selling newspapers.
He wouldn't allow this money to disappear from his world. He had looked for Mike, who claimed the matter had nothing to do with him. Now, he could only seek out Lynch, hoping this young man might be easier to talk to.
"I just want my money back, do you understand? I want nothing to do with all of this!"
Lynch tidied up briefly, then sat on the bed, crossing his legs with his hands resting on his knees. He could tell the badge was nervous, a bit incoherent, and continually emphasized the dagger in his hand, yet not necessarily as fearsome as he appeared.
His eyes were unsteady, his eyelashes trembled slightly, and his focal point mostly lingered on the floor between them. He was scared too. This was his first time doing such a thing—holding a dagger while standing in someone else's territory, demanding something from them.
Lynch recognized this false bravado and smiled, "You know, even if I killed you now, a judge wouldn't convict me, because you're the one who broke into my room with a deadly weapon."
The badge suddenly looked back at the door, and a thought flashed in his mind. Lynch had invited him inside not to avoid being seen by others but to ambush him.
He became more agitated and fearful as he realized he had turned from hunter to prey. His breathing quickened, nearly to the point of suffocation.
He took a few steps back, raised the knife, and tried to appear fierce, thinking about cutting Lynch's clothes, but feared any counterattack Lynch might have, leaving him at a loss.
Seeing the man trapped in an impasse, Lynch pointed to a chair, "Why not sit down so we can talk this over? Violence solves nothing!"
He spoke sincerely, and perhaps it was this sincerity—or Lynch's calm demeanor—that moved the badge. After some thought, he agreed and sat in the chair.
Once he sat down, Lynch asked, "Actually, my loss is much greater than yours; I lost five thousand dollars!" After saying this, the badge showed obvious shock, along with a bit of knowing realization.
"Have you considered that maybe this is all a setup?" Without waiting for the badge to respond, Lynch continued to press, "I distributed five thousand dollars to five kids. They counted it, and I counted it in front of them. There shouldn't be any problem."
"After leaving my room, did they go straight to you or somewhere else?"
"If they came directly to you, have you considered how reliable these newspaper kids are?"
"If they went somewhere else, could someone other than you or me have intervened?"
Lynch shrugged and spread his hands in regret, "Mike tells others he gained nothing from me, but I truly lost five thousand dollars; I believe it's in his hands!"
These words quickly sent the low-educated badge into a spiral of paranoia. To avoid exposing himself and getting drawn into the case, he remembered he indeed wasn't nearby that day, waiting further away instead.
After the newspaper kids got the money, they didn't immediately return to him. Instead, they went across the road to a room to meet Mike, which took about one or two minutes.
If the money had gone missing, the only explanation could be Mike's involvement.
By now, he believed this a bit. The newspaper kids he used were fairly trusted. They all mentioned counting the money, as did Lynch, then seeing the money wrapped up as usual.
As he recalled these things, Lynch added, "We're all afraid of certain people and won't speak the truth. I believe we're not the only ones afraid to speak up; those kids might also not dare to tell the truth."
"You came here with a knife, but you targeted the wrong person. Go ask those kids again, and maybe you'll discover something new."
Uneducated people are so easy to deceive!
Lynch again showed a compassionate and benevolent gaze.