Chapter 45: Fighting for the Pension!

At this moment, a different conversation was taking place in the office of the director of the Sabin City Federal Tax Bureau.

On one side was the office’s owner, the local tax bureau director; on the other was the highest official from the state office.

The structure of the Baylor Federal Tax Bureau was simple. At the top was the Baylor Federal Tax Headquarters, led by the chief director. Below it were various offices and the federal tax administrative offices of each state.

These state-level offices did not handle any tax-related services. They were purely administrative bodies. Although their direct power was less than the local federal tax bureaus, they controlled key administrative tasks like performance evaluations of local tax officers, giving them significant hidden power.

Only one day had passed since the incident began, but that was enough to alarm the chief director of the Federal Tax Headquarters, who demanded a swift resolution to avoid public uproar.

There is a saying in another world: “He who tied the bell on the tiger must untie it.” This world had a similar idea. The language differed, but people’s thinking was similar.

“The work on Michael’s side can be halted. Let him temporarily disappear from the public eye. Also, I hear he suspects something’s wrong with Lynch?”

The state office commissioner’s voice was cold, making the director nervous. He was over fifty, and his position was not guaranteed much longer.

Especially if his successor was promoted internally, he might only have two or three years left before retirement. The successor would need time to learn the job and serve the federal government well.

This presented a small dilemma: in his final years, should he enjoy a relaxed retirement or continue doing a difficult, thankless job?

There were promotions that were easy, like advisory roles in the state office, which required little work—just appearing occasionally to give advice.

These positions were designed for retiring managers: comfortable, well-paid, and a reward for lifelong service.

But some posts were less pleasant, like the state archives and evidence management office, which gathered all files and evidence from the state—no mistakes allowed. It was exhausting.

Where he would be assigned after promotion was up to the state office. Wiping sweat from his face, he nodded repeatedly, “Yes…”

“Then investigate Lynch thoroughly—dig deep and hard. If we can prove he’s a criminal, it might calm the public.”

“Also, there are complaints about your conduct in Sabin City. I know you’re retiring soon, but that’s no excuse for inaction. We’re a federal agency, not a private company. If they find a reason, they could clean you out even before you retire.”

These words tightened the director’s nerves. In Baylor Federal, retirement age was 56 for women and 60 for men. After retiring, pensions were based on social insurance contributions.

The pension system had three tiers, with different benefits.

If the director worked until 60, he’d receive the highest federal pension—around $750 per month.

That sum might seem small in big cities but was a fortune in Sabin City, where average worker income was about $200. He’d earn as much as three workers combined.

But if he failed to contribute 35 years of social insurance, the Social Security Bureau would refund his payments with no option to make up missed contributions.

The pension system was strict but praised. Surprisingly, it was pushed through not by the federal government but by powerful capital groups.

Some called it a conspiracy, as most people would not complete 35 years due to job changes or unemployment.

Any interruption in contributions meant losing pension benefits, forcing workers to accept exploitation silently.

Once people lost the ability to work and earn, their social value dropped to zero. Without value, survival was impossible.

Ordinary people accepted unfair treatment for their pension, even proudly saying, “I’m happy to sacrifice personal interest for the company.”

The director shared these worries. He had to protect his future.

The voice on the other end paused, then said, “Show them you’re not idle. Act now. Understand?”

The director nodded firmly, determined to defend his reputation and pension, “Understood!”

In the following days, the news and public debate intensified. Some prominent social figures began voicing concerns about unchecked power among law enforcement agencies. They feared incidents like those involving Lynch could happen to them.

Their statements earned support from many lower-class citizens, unaware these advocates were recent federal dream spokespeople—those who both needed and feared power.

But these matters were still far from Lynch. After resting three days in the hospital, he returned to work. Richard and others exchanged a large sum of money and got busy again.

Vera also returned to the office. She and her husband were in a cold war, sleeping separately for days.

The situation made her feel increasingly threatened. Without financial independence, any family upheaval would leave her with nothing.

“Boss, here’s five thousand…” Richard once again proved his value with rapid efficiency.

He finally held his head high before his family, whose shock at his daily income—ranging from dozens to a couple hundred—left them speechless. He now saw a bright future.

Lynch nodded, had the change put into a cart, wrote a check, and after Vera gave him a receipt, pushed the cart into a small room behind the warehouse.

The moment he switched on the ultraviolet light, the eerie green glow was blinding.