I work as a sorcerer in the US, and my side hustle is building Gundams.

evening.

The only Korean restaurant on First Avenue.

A young man in his twenties with a classic Korean-style bob was wiping his mouth as he walked out of the restaurant's main entrance, making and receiving phone calls as he went.

"Damn it, we can't find them. What do you mean by 'can't find them'? Weren't they always at Pioneer Square?"

"What? They've all disappeared, and there are even Latino gangs hunting them down?"

"Damn, this is ridiculous! How did they mess with a Latino gang again? Fine, let's put this on hold for now and see how things develop. I don't want to fight with such a dangerous gang for my man!"

"Damn it, you're a complete piece of trash. You can't even hit a target from over ten meters away, and you still brag to me about being a sharpshooter? Pah!"

The man put his phone back in his pocket, glanced around, and then walked to his left.

Completely unaware that a distorted space had appeared at their feet, which was impossible to see unless they looked closely and stared intently.

He walked forward a few dozen meters to the street corner, where he hailed a yellow taxi with his thumb.

A taxi pulled up in front of him shortly after, and he got in and said to the driver:

Paramount Theatre.

Then he sat down in the back row and closed his eyes to rest.

A short while later, the car arrived at its destination. He got out, paid the fare, looked around, and then walked in one direction.

"Mr. Gerald."

His target was a well-dressed, tall, middle-aged, respectable European or American man in a well-tailored suit.

The man was sitting in a booth at a café by the window on the street, leisurely drinking his coffee.

"The assassination attempt failed, sir. I'm so sorry..."

He walked to the window, stood with his back against it on one leg, lifted the other leg and leaned it against the wall to pick up his phone, pretending to make a call.

But his voice pierced through the open window and reached the ears of the Western man.

However, the other person leisurely sipped his coffee, as if he hadn't heard him at all. He simply shook the newspaper in his hand vigorously, making a "crackling" sound as the paper trembled.

"I recently heard that a Latino gang is also offering a bounty on his head, so I suggest we don't do anything rash for now, lest we offend them..."

Inside the window, the man drinking coffee didn't speak, but coughed softly.

"Damn it, I always have to deliver goods in either wind or rain. It's such a pain! Fine, I'll just pick it up myself!"

"Black Hand" shouted loudly at the phone that was not turned on, then angrily turned off the phone and walked away quickly.

The respectable middle-aged man drinking coffee behind him had a slight frown, as if the Americano in his cup was too bitter for him.

……

A minute later, he put down his unfinished coffee cup, folded the newspaper, and got up to leave.

He walked to a Lincoln car on the street just a few dozen meters away from the coffee shop, opened the door, and then elegantly sat down inside.

Completely unaware that the moment he opened the door, a dark and blurry figure had already gotten into his car first.

……

I lived in the underground sewers where there was no sunlight for three days.

Lynn had gradually gotten used to the darkness and pungent stench here.

However, thanks to his relatively good economic situation during this period, he had no shortage of supplies such as lighting, heating, and food, and he managed to get by.

But on the morning of the third day after moving in, he simply couldn't take it anymore.

"Mike, let's go upstairs and get some fresh air. It's a secluded spot with hardly anyone around, so there shouldn't be any problems."

He brushed his teeth while sticking his head and hands out over the platform railing and looking down into the ditch, and said this to Mike, who was also brushing his teeth next to him.

"I think that's a good idea. I've been feeling really stifled these past few days, so it'll be good to go out and get some fresh air."

Mike took a big gulp of water, gargled, and then spat out a mouthful of white foam into the drain below.

"Moreover, the Carlos gang's base is at least 10 kilometers away from here. They would never imagine that we would be living in the sewers in such a remote area."

Half an hour later, the two appeared on the ground.

"Ah~ the air on the ground is so much fresher!"

Lynn stretched lazily and let out a long yawn.

"You bet! I've felt like a sewer rat these past few days..."

Mike was also infected by his yawn, and stretched and yawned as well.

"Let's take a walk around here. I've had enough of that dark, damp, and smelly Undercity..."

The two stretched their bodies a bit more, then headed towards the nearest block.

"Huh? Wait a minute! Who did I just see?"

Just as Lynn reached a populated area ahead, he suddenly froze!

That was the alleyway behind the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant.

A middle-aged Chinese man with a face covered in injuries and swollen, red arms was carrying several large garbage bags out of the kitchen door with a companion who was also Asian. He struggled to carry them to a nearby garbage can that emitted a foul stench.

"Ganlin's mother, I've heard before that America is such a civilized and great place, that you can buy a store in just three months just by washing dishes..."

The alley Lynn was passing through was only about 5 meters deep, so he happened to hear the other person complaining as he walked past the alley entrance.

"I went to more than 10 shops, and the highest they offered was only $8.5 an hour, and I had to work a full 12 hours a day! They wouldn't even let me sit down and take a break in between!"

The Asian young man next to him, about 10 years younger than him, looked nonchalant as he diligently lifted two large bags of trash and threw them into the trash can. Then he took out a half-smoked cigarette from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and lit it with a lighter.

"Hey uncle, stop complaining! My ears are practically calloused! Pfft..."

The young man took a deep drag of his cigarette, exhaled with a satisfied air, and then spoke to the middle-aged man next to him who had also started smoking, in a tone of instruction similar to that of a senior.

"Who the hell told you you can make big money washing dishes in America? Those are all just agencies trying to trick people like you into coming here so they can make a commission! I was tricked by those scammers myself. But 10 years ago, washing dishes was okay; you could get $15 a month. But ever since Trump came to power, the hourly rate has been dropping again and again..."

"$8.5 an hour! Back in my hometown, I could make two or three hundred a day just driving for Didi!"

The middle-aged man took a deep drag of his cigarette, seething with resentment, and said bitterly.

"They said you can earn $3000 a month washing dishes here, and it's fucking easy—only 8 hours a day, with a lunch break!"

"They said this place was super safe, that no one would pick up lost items and that doors wouldn't be locked at night, but I got all my money stolen in less than a week. Luckily, I had $1000 hidden in my underwear, which allowed me to rent a bunk bed in Chinatown. Otherwise, my son and I would be stuck on the street now, setting up tents like those street thugs!"

"Heh, I remember you used to complain that those people became scoundrels because they were lazy and didn't want to work, right?"

The young man said to the middle-aged man with a mocking expression.

"Pfft...cough cough cough...Young man, there's a saying that you shouldn't hit someone in the face, so you don't need to bring that up again..."

The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, and was instantly choked by a mouthful of smoke. He quickly stopped him, and the indignation on his face just now turned into an embarrassed and ashamed smile.

------

Tomorrow's chapter will resolve the protagonist's long-standing debt problem! Can you guess how? There's also a surprise reward!