Chapter 11

Standing on the First Square, Looking Toward the Eleventh

Michael entered the room with a triumphant smile. He glanced at Lynch sitting on the bed and chuckled quietly.

He didn’t know why he suddenly laughed out loud—maybe it was a show of arrogance.

He casually opened his trench coat to reveal a wallet stuck in his pocket with his ID inside. “Federal Tax Bureau. We received a report of an illegal transaction here. We need to inspect…”

This time, Michael wasn’t alone; several others came with him. At his signal, they immediately began searching the room.

Michael sat beside Lynch, looking at the young man who had briefly frightened him. Smirking, he said, “Last time I sent a kid your age to prison, he arrogantly said it was just a vacation for him.”

“He thought prison was nothing to fear. You know what happened to him later?” He spoke unsettling words to warn Lynch.

But Michael quickly stopped, noticing Lynch showed no fear or anxiety.

Calm and composed as before, Lynch’s demeanor made Michael feel humiliated, as if he was the fool speaking ridiculous words. He was underestimated again.

His expression darkened. Snorting, he decided to stay silent. When they found the evidence, this guy would be the one crying.

But… why hadn’t they found anything yet?

Watching his men begin to search the room again from the doorway, Michael suddenly tensed, realizing something. He glanced sideways at Lynch and rushed into the inner room.

The house was small, essentially two spaces: a corridor with the front door and a bedroom, and a dressing room with a wardrobe.

The dressing room was simple: an open wardrobe, an ironing board lowered by his men, a small storage box for miscellaneous tools, and a basket for washed clothes.

Further inside was a small shower stall and a toilet. A cart lay carelessly across the dressing room’s center.

“Where’s the money?” he demanded sharply. The kids each claimed Lynch put the money in the box and pushed it into the dressing room on the cart, but it didn’t seem so.

Two of his men shook their heads awkwardly. “Sorry, boss. We found nothing.”

“What about the wooden box?” he asked, trying one last time.

One pointed to the empty wooden box on the ironing board.

Michael rubbed his face hard with both hands, pulling at his hair. He paced, hands on hips, then suddenly, nearly hysterical, grabbed the wooden box and smashed it on the floor.

The shattered box reminded him of Lynch’s mocking gaze. Furious, he stormed out and grabbed Lynch by the collar, lifting him up. “Where’s the money? Where did you hide that five thousand Sol?”

He roared, anger clouding his reason. Twice he’d been fooled by this kid—no one dared do that to him!

Lynch smiled faintly, watching Michael calmly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even have five hundred Sol on me. I don’t know where you got this info, but it’s obviously wrong.”

Damn it, Michael thought. He personally saw the newspaper boys deliver that money. Lynch hadn’t left the room in under two minutes. So where did he hide it?

He wanted to punch Lynch to show him his power, but he knew if he did, he’d face an inspection soon.

People might overlook small details to catch criminals, but violence and framing were forbidden. If this got out, the entire Sabin City judicial system would be disgraced.

His superiors, whom he couldn’t afford to offend, would investigate departmental corruption. He’d become a pariah.

He suppressed his anger, shoved Lynch onto the bed, and searched the room himself.

Everything was in chaos, even the toilet’s water tank had been dismantled, but they found nothing. The five thousand Sol seemed to have vanished without a trace.

No—it was as if it had never existed.

Lynch remained calm, showing no fear or worry, watching Michael frantically search the fifty-square-meter room until he finally stopped.

By then, Michael knew the operation had failed again.

Not just this operation—also the one against Fox. Trouble was coming.

Pointing at Lynch, he said, “You got lucky this time. But pray you stay this sharp every time.”

“Just once, if I catch you, I’ll send you to prison for life—no chance of getting out!” He clenched his fist, then turned and left the room. “Get out of here and go write your reports!”

After watching them leave, Lynch smiled and shook his head. They hadn’t searched his person—no search warrant—and their target wasn’t petty cash on him but the five thousand Sol that could convict him.

Large cash transactions must be reported to the tax bureau. They hadn’t done that—that’s illegal. No after-the-fact excuses.

Even if they had searched him, it wouldn’t matter and would violate rules. Michael often lost control, but some lines he wouldn’t cross lightly.

After a few minutes, Lynch tidied the room and locked the door. There’s a saying: “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but never thrice.”

Michael had offended him twice. He wouldn’t keep swallowing his pride. Now Lynch had about seven to eight thousand Sol—still not enough to complete the first phase of his plan.

The money-making had to continue, and he had to consider how to get revenge.

In a previous life, in a small room, he met an interesting friend who told him that beasts hunt not just to eat—if you don’t resist, others will push you further. Sometimes, you must assert yourself.

After wandering outside for a while, Lynch found a quiet jewelry shop and went in.

The bell above the door jingled. Behind the counter, a man wearing magnifying glasses stood and smiled, “Welcome.”

Lynch smiled politely and approached the counter. “I want a simple gold ring to give my girlfriend. Can you engrave it inside?”

His youthful looks, handsome face, and shy smile quickly won the older jeweler’s favor. “Of course, kid. You came to the right place.”

Twenty minutes later, Lynch left the shop holding a gold ring engraved inside with “My Dearest Katherine.”