Chapter 13: On the Necessity of Painful Education in the Process of Growth

While Lynch was observing Michael’s family, Michael was called to his superior’s office.

The Sabin City Federal Tax Bureau’s office was not in the same district as the Sabin City Municipal Hall but located elsewhere, seemingly to signal that the Federal Tax Bureau was independent from local authorities.

Alternatively, it might be a matter of style; compared to the somewhat shabby Municipal Hall and other offices, the Federal Tax Bureau’s décor was downright luxurious.

This was unsurprising—everyone knew the Federal Tax Bureau was wealthy. They used marble tiles for the floor and hung camel wool blankets on the walls to demonstrate their prestige.

Inside the office, a large semi-enclosed desk surrounded the director of the Sabin City Federal Tax Bureau, a man in his fifties.

He had gray-white hair, some forehead and crow’s feet wrinkles, but overall looked well-maintained—at least not much older than workers in their forties.

He wore a tailored suit and a tie, his brow furrowed deeply. Michael, standing on the other side of the desk, felt uneasy in the tense atmosphere.

“I’m troubled, Mike!” The director—called George by Michael and his friends and superiors—used the nickname to sound more familiar.

Michael scratched his head, showing none of his usual work-related temper and wearing a somewhat confused expression. “I don’t understand, George.”

“No, you do!” George sighed and glanced at two documents on the desk. “You know, Mike, Fox’s lawyer is collecting evidence that you’ve abused your power. Also…”

He flipped the report in front of him. “Some people have opinions about your recent actions. I thought you had it under control when I approved them, but clearly, I overestimated you.” He looked up from the papers at Michael. “What do you think I should do?”

Michael looked annoyed. “It’s all that bastard Lynch’s fault. He somehow avoided our searches three times. But I promise you, George, that kid’s definitely suspicious.”

“I saw the newsboy bring five thousand Sol into the room myself. They left the money there, but when I went in, nothing was found. That kid’s clever and well-prepared!”

George raised his hand to stop Michael. Pointing at him, he said, “You’re right. He’s smart and prepared. When he wasn’t, you couldn’t catch him, and now with his defenses up, it’s even harder to catch him!”

Michael’s anger immediately cooled. He cautiously looked at the director behind the desk. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing special…” George shrugged, leaning back in his chair with fingers interlaced. “Your failed attempts have caused serious problems. Fox’s people want to deal with you. You’d better cool off for a while.”

Sharp as ever, Michael quickly understood and raised his voice. “You want me suspended?”

“Suspended?” George chuckled. “No, no, you misunderstood. There’s a big operation in Kurland City. They’re short-handed and requested our support…” He shrugged again. “You know we get along with them well, so I couldn’t refuse. You and your team are to assist them immediately. When you return, you can go after Lynch. Understand?”

“But things might change. Others could go. If I stay behind and miss this window, it’ll be much harder to catch Lynch and Fox. We know they found a mature way to avoid our surveillance, I…”

Before Michael could finish, George’s smile faded. “This isn’t a request. It’s an order. Got it?”

They stared at each other for a moment. Michael realized he couldn’t change the decision and said angrily, “You’ll regret this decision!”

“I’ll only regret not giving you something to do sooner!” George retorted without hesitation.

Watching Michael leave, George sighed. Michael had risen to head of investigations but wanted a transfer to agents or special operations.

However, as management and head of investigations, he couldn’t start at the bottom as an agent or operative. His entry-level position was deputy team leader or similar.

That meant no promotions if there were no vacancies. He knew this and had kept a low profile.

Recently, rumors surfaced about openings, so he applied to investigate Fox’s case.

For the Federal Tax Bureau, 99.99% of the population was suspected of some tax crime.

Their job wasn’t to eliminate all tax crimes—that was impossible. If a passerby gave a beggar a Sol, would the beggar file taxes?

So, the bureau mainly monitored big taxpayers to prevent severe evasion. Ordinary people were rarely investigated unless necessary.

Michael was influenced by the six-eyed flying fish from the North Ocean. He wanted achievements to secure a promotion when a vacancy opened.

His actions weren’t excessive; worse had happened in the federation. But others always secured solid evidence to indict their targets. Michael had acted thrice—and failed thrice.

This made him a joke in the system. He needed to calm down.

Fox was no problem. Having a lawyer gather evidence of Michael’s crimes was just a posture. If the bureau kept targeting him without reaction, his rule would be overturned soon.

Once Michael was sent to Kurland, things would settle.

As for Lynch… he was a nobody. George knew this. Michael’s failures made him a laughingstock. His actions seriously violated rules. He was acting on impulse. Time to cool off.

Michael left the office looking miserable. His partner was at the door but before asking “What’s wrong?” Michael swore, “Shit.”

“Head wants us to report to Kurland tomorrow to assist the operation. Shit, he doesn’t trust me to catch Lynch!”

His partner smiled silently and followed. This was actually good.

Angry, Michael chose to go home and pack—a silent protest.

After a short drive back to his neighborhood, while wondering how to explain the sudden business trip to his wife, a wave of anger mixed with fear surged. He slammed the steering wheel hard, swerving onto the sidewalk, nearly hitting a pedestrian.

Some bystanders screamed; others rushed over to check for injuries. It was a close call.

Michael angrily got out, slammed the door, walked up to the nearly hit man, grabbed his collar, and shouted, “What are you doing here?”

Lynch kept smiling calmly, as in all their previous encounters. “Your wife is young and beautiful…”

Seeing Michael raise his fist, Lynch spoke evenly, “You can hit me, but you must bear all the consequences. You’ve probably investigated me—a poor kid with nothing. Even this life of mine isn’t worth much.”

“We can make a bet. I believe you’ll feel a pain far worse than any punch—a pain deep in your heart. Do you believe me?”

He looked calmly at the man. Michael’s fierce gaze hesitated, softened, and he withdrew his fist, releasing Lynch’s collar.

Everyone has something most precious—no exceptions.

Finding that can easily destroy a person—no exceptions.