Chapter 4: The Moment You Failed to Object, You Already Lost Your Stance

After leaving Mr. Fox, Lynch wandered the streets for a while. Now that the deal was settled, he would soon receive his first income, and the size of that income would directly depend on how much he invested.

The more he invested, the higher the profit. Even top-tier financial groups would envy this kind of business.

Recently, he had been reading newspapers frequently. Despite all the global efforts in development and economic growth, even the most promising funds were offering annual returns of no more than fifteen percent.

The Trade Journal revealed detailed data for the past year in its Q1 edition, showing that the highest actual return among all funds was only 9.74%, not even reaching ten percent—yet it was already the most profitable fund of the year.

This deal, therefore, was extremely important. But a new issue had arisen: he needed a “principal” sum to exchange for small change and coins.

Mr. Fox hadn’t mentioned this money. Given what he knew about Lynch’s background, he must be aware that Lynch didn’t even have a hundred bucks to his name, either in cash or in his bank account—let alone enough to fulfill the promised transformation assistance.

Lynch had to find another sum of money. It didn’t have to be much—just a few hundred, maybe a thousand or two—because once the operation started, it would only accelerate. He planned to talk to Katherine about it when he got home that night.

Although he felt there was something shameful in doing so… there was no other choice for the future he wanted.

Time slipped away during his idle stroll, and for once Lynch returned home early—at 6:30 PM. Katherine walked in shortly afterward, carrying a bag.

Inside were meat scraps and some not-so-fresh vegetables discarded by the supermarket where she worked. Employees usually divided these among themselves—after all, they endured exploitation for little more than such “perks.”

She was surprised to see Lynch home early. Lately, he had always returned very late. This was the first time in a while he had come home before dark.

In the beginning, she had still hoped he might settle down and find a proper job—ideally in a factory.

Though factory work was exhausting and risky, workers enjoyed the best welfare and social protections. Big corporations had to take care of them in many ways, and they could also join unions. Katherine, a cashier, couldn’t. There was no “cashiers’ union.”

Nightmares linger. Good dreams vanish too quickly.

For a week now, Lynch—who had just seemed to bounce back—had returned to square one. He no longer idled at home, but used “job hunting” as an excuse to pass the time outside.

Thinking of this made Katherine feel hopeless. Her past choices seemed not just foolish but blind.

Only after going through all this did she realize how right her mother had been: good looks meant nothing. Life needed substance, not appearances.

She glanced at Lynch, changed shoes, and went into the kitchen to wash the meat scraps.

These scraps had been trimmed off bone racks. They were uneven, about the size of fingers, and their color was darker than neatly packaged beef—making them hard to sell, even at low prices. Most people bought them to feed dogs.

But truthfully, there was nothing wrong with them.

A heavy silence filled the room—thick, suffocating, spreading.

Lynch sat on the couch they had salvaged from a dumpster, watching his girlfriend quietly handle the food. Though the physical distance between them was less than ten meters, it felt like a deep chasm had opened.

“Do you… have any extra money?” he asked.

Katherine’s hand paused slightly. She didn’t look back or respond immediately. After a brief silence, she continued her work. “A little. Less than five hundred. Saved up this year.”

Saving was not easy—especially for young people with only a high school diploma.

Rent, electricity, water, heating, other essentials and losses—plus the fact that only one of them worked—it was already impressive they had saved over four hundred.

The atmosphere grew heavier, pressing on both of them.

Neither spoke again until dinner was ready.

As usual: scraps, fried eggs, wilted leaves, and noodles cut into short lengths.

All were discarded items from the supermarket, now feeding many struggling families.

“My mom came to see me today…” Katherine broke the silence during dinner. “She doesn’t want us to go on like this, but I couldn’t convince her…”

Lynch set down his knife and fork, noticing something new on her plate—clear, slightly bitter, faintly salty.

Katherine had already said it plainly: she couldn’t convince her mother, which meant one of them had to yield—and it would be her.

The meal, already unappetizing, became even harder to eat. Lynch sighed. “When are you leaving?”

Katherine was close to breaking down. “Tomorrow. My mom and brother will come get me. I’m sorry. I don’t want this, but…”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry,” Lynch said, reaching out to touch her tear-soaked cheek. He had to take responsibility for what this body had done.

For over two years, all the burdens of their life had fallen on this twenty-year-old girl.

No doubt about it—Lynch had been a terrible boyfriend.

This life had slowly worn down all of Katherine’s romantic dreams and hope for the future. She had experienced too much and was starting to bow to reality and fate. Even if a tiny corner of her heart still clung to a shred of hope—

There was no maybe. Lynch would not ask her to stay.

Whether she said it first or not, the unstable, uncertain future ahead wasn’t suitable for her.

Cruel as it sounded, it was the truth.

After spending one last night together, Katherine left the next morning. But she didn’t leave Lynch empty-handed.

She left a passbook—and the apartment key.

Thanks to the bank’s lenient policies on who could access funds via passbook, Lynch was able to withdraw everything that morning.

$449.35.

Then he found the landlord. After talking for about half an hour, he got a refund of a hundred Sol for the remaining half month of rent—it was originally seventy-five, but Lynch left all his belongings behind.

The landlord didn’t think it was a bad deal and eventually agreed, giving him an extra twenty-five Sol.

He kept the small change to cover basic needs for the first few days; the rest would be put into his plan. He could hardly wait—he was eager to teach this naïve world a lesson.