Please support the translation by reading the translation and commenting on otakutl official site.
Thank you.
Everyone from Otaku Translation
Previous | TOC | Next |
Chapter 8: We Have Our Rules
"There's nothing..." Another investigator, unaware of what had happened here, tossed out the worn-out clothes from two boxes, including the wooden boxes used to store them, which had been split into several pieces.
There were no coins or change here. Not even a single coin, let alone the hundreds or thousands mentioned in the tip-offs.
The first reaction of the investigator engaged in this delicate confrontation was disbelief upon hearing this. They had almost concluded their investigation; this young man named Lynch had been exchanging change on a massive scale in unimaginable ways.
Before Lynch's appearance, nobody would incur such losses just to exchange change. He had set a precedent, and behind his nearly limitless change exchanges, the investigators from the Sabin City Tax Bureau believed it was for Fox's use.
During this period, Lynch had only interacted with Fox and no one else. Added to that, in the past few days, there had been a significant increase in the tax amounts reported by the laundry shop under Fox's name. The Sabin Tax Bureau considered Lynch as the "key figure."
Actually, for the past two days, someone had been keeping an eye on him. Based on his behavioral pattern, he was expected to take the collected coins and deliver them to the laundry shop. Ostensibly, it was for washing clothes, but in reality, it was for conducting illegal transactions.
Then he would continue to exchange change until the next time he had gathered a certain amount again.
As long as they caught those coins in his possession, marked them, and then had Lynch deliver the coins to the laundry shop, the entire chain of evidence would be complete.
Once Fox started reporting tax details, they would immediately arrange for an officer to come and inspect the information he submitted, then catch him red-handed and send him to prison.
Everything had been meticulously calculated, but unfortunately, there was a problem here. Aside from a pile of old clothes on the cart, there wasn't a single coin. Where had the money gone?
In a mere few seconds, the investigator's gaze briefly lost focus. Then, he turned to look at Lynch, pointing at him, "You’d better watch it..."
He tapped the lapel of his coat and, together with another investigator, swiftly left the scene. They needed to rush to another location.
Their extensive experience prevented them from solely relying on this team. Another group raided Lynch's current temporary residence. If there was no money here, then the money must be in his room.
However, the investigators couldn't shake off the feeling that things weren't that simple. This young man, Lynch... he was somewhat inscrutable, not at all like someone who had just emerged from an ivory tower, still in awe of the world.
Lynch watched the two investigators leave the alley. He spat on the ground, bent down to pick up the clothes, and then pushed the cart out of the alley.
Sunlight shone on his face. There was no trace of the humiliation and punch he had received moments ago. It was as if nothing had happened, his smile unchanged.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the laundry shop, going directly into the storage room behind it. After exchanging greetings with two young men, they started dismantling the cart with tools.
The cart was not small; its main structure was sturdy steel tubing lined with wire. It was apparent at a glance, so the investigator didn't meticulously inspect the cart.
The shop owner handed him a cigarette, lighting it for Lynch, and apologized, "I'm really sorry about what just happened, but we couldn't intervene for you..."
Lynch's gaze passed over the shop owner's shoulder as he watched the two workers struggle to lift the disassembled cart, tilting it toward a basket.
With a clattering sound of metal collision, coins of various colors poured out of the steel pipes like running water.
Lynch withdrew his gaze, focusing on the shop owner. He shrugged indifferently, "It's okay, I’ll have to deal with them eventually. That's why I declined Mr. Fox’s offer. I don't like trouble."
Mr. Fox had expressed the desire to recruit Lynch more than once during this period, offering him an exorbitant salary of three thousand bucks a month. In a society where the average monthly income per person was only two to three hundred, ten times the average salary was enough to tempt many. But not Lynch.
He knew that dealing with individuals like Fox, who skirted the gray areas, meant a lifetime under certain people's surveillance. Once he agreed, he'd become one of them, constantly being watched no matter what he did in the future.
By not joining, it was another matter. His youth and apparent shallowness wouldn't attract too much attention.
By the time people started noticing him, he'd have completed the initial accumulation.
Moreover, he didn't admire someone who sustained themselves by lending money to the impoverished in a small town.
The shop owner smiled but didn't say anything. Instead, Lynch asked again, "Who was the one that hit me?"
He looked down, smoking, his hair and smoke obscuring his eyes, preventing the shop owner from glimpsing his true emotions.
"Michael(迈克尔), the head of the Sabin City Federal Tax Bureau Investigation Team. He's not someone you want to cross. You'd better not entertain any inappropriate thoughts about them," the shop owner kindly cautioned. The Federal Tax itself was a separate system; they had investigators, detectives, special agents, and even their own militarized units.
It might sound ludicrous and absurd, but that was the reality. A legitimate, comprehensive force underwent the most formal military training to counter certain specific instances of armed tax evasion.
So, most people would tell rookies in the field that they could do almost anything they wanted, but by the 7th of each month, they had to file taxes at the local tax office. Otherwise...
As the head of the Sabin City Federal Tax Bureau Investigation Team, Michael's status wasn't the highest, but it was mid-level. Even someone like Fox wouldn't want to offend him without reason. Everyone had flaws in their financial dealings because one person couldn't accurately remember every income and tax rate proportion. Just a small mistake with a decimal point or a digit after the decimal, they could land people in jail.
Lynch nodded, stubbing out his cigarette butt. "I know, I'll step aside next time I see him..."
The shop owner patted Lynch's shoulder, avoiding further discussion on the topic. "How much is it this time?"
"Not counting the loose change, four thousand five hundred bucks!"
The shop owner, upon hearing this, was slightly stunned but then burst into laughter. He pulled out several rolls of banknotes from his pocket, tied with rubber bands.
These banknotes were all five and ten denominations, extremely worn-out, easily passed off.
For society as a whole, these five and ten buck notes were like the coins in the laundry shop; no one could say where each coin had been before appearing there.
The Tax Bureau could only accept the money as clean money according to the amount reported by the laundry shop and witness its deposition into the bank.
Lynch rolled up the money and put it back into the cart. He waited a while, taking the dirty clothes after they had been washed and then left with the cart.
Meanwhile, on the other side, a group of people had just raided Lynch's temporary residence, finding not even a penny, let alone anything valuable.
"Damn it!"
They hadn't obtained concrete evidence, but they had alarmed both Lynch and Fox. This would bring them more trouble, possibly even terminating the investigation.
How to find a list of chapters
Please find the chapter label next to your favorite translator's name, and click the label.
No comments:
Post a Comment