Cthulhu Panel: One organ mutates every day

"Now, you only need one million to get in, and you can live a carefree life, worry-free for the rest of your days. How about it, want to join in?" Felix said sternly.

Wayne was speechless, exchanged a glance with Ethan, and remained silent for a moment.

"Uh, next time for sure." Wayne forced a smile at Felix. So this guy really was here to solicit clients.

Felix showed no disappointment, only a faint smile:

"Okay, that's a real shame. But if you change your mind, you can come to Morgan Bank to find me anytime. I have exclusive allocation channels that can give you priority access to the bank's high-quality assets, which is... you know what I mean."

Seeing that he hadn't gotten anything out of him, Ethan said no more.

The hall was filled with noise; another boxing match was about to begin.

The betting clerk, clutching his ledger, quickly squeezed his way to Wayne and Felix, rapidly calculated the odds, and piled a thick stack of federal dollars onto the counter next to them.

The banknotes were stacked neatly and very high.

After verifying everything, Wayne and Felix both received the "huge sum" they had won in the bet.

"Four times the odds, you've won quite a bit, haven't you?" Ethan agreed.

"I just got here and I saw you. It would be a huge loss not to place a bet. 3000 Federal Dollars is almost all the money I have on me." Wayne raised an eyebrow.

"Would you like something to drink? It's free for us," Ethan asked.

"I'm not drinking anymore," Wayne said. He was really going to try and squeeze every last drop out of Howard.

"Let's go outside and talk, it's too noisy here," Ethan suggested.

"Okay." Wayne nodded.

Ethan turned and left.

Wayne followed.

"Dude, we're leaving," Wayne said to Felix.

"Oh, what a coincidence, I'm leaving too." Felix caught up.

After leaving the Black Gold Bar and arriving at the street, I stood in front of the brightly lit cigar shop, the evening breeze caressing my face.

Felix only walked a short distance before waving and saying:

"Wayne, right? I'm going back to rest. I have an early shift tomorrow. And Ethan, I'm off too. Bye-bye. Remember, if you need anything, just come find me, old Philip, at Morgan Bank!"

As Felix walked away.

Ethan stared at his retreating figure, pondered for a moment, and said:

"This person is indeed quite strange. He clearly knows me, but he didn't say a single word to me. In addition, he seems to know quite a lot of information, so he's a suspicious person. I'll go back and investigate him."

"Felix, a top client manager at Morgan Bank's Michigan branch." Wayne took out Felix's business card and handed it to Ethan, glancing casually at the reality bias meter on his wrist.

The hands on the dial came to a steady stop.

Reality deviation: 50%

Huh?and many more.

Wayne snapped out of his daze and took another look.

Reality deviation: 0%

"What's wrong?" Ethan asked.

"Ethan, this measuring device seems to be malfunctioning. I just saw it showing a 50% deviation in reality in the vicinity. That's strange, it was working fine in the bar," Wayne said, puzzled.

Ethan said casually, "Then you must have seen it wrong."

"What if I'm not mistaken? Should I report it to the bureau?" Wayne hesitated.

"You can wait a bit. If we don't suddenly die, then you're mistaken," Ethan said.

After a short while, nothing unusual happened.

"Okay, so you must have misread it and almost died on the spot, right? It wouldn't be satisfying to actually die in front of an unknown being. It's worth it to be able to see it a few more times." Wei En breathed a sigh of relief.

Ethan said nonchalantly, "If the reality deviation is really 50%, we might as well run for our lives. No, it's too late to run for our lives, we should hurry up and have a big meal, drink some good wine, pick up some top-notch girls, and enjoy ourselves to the fullest. No, it's too late to enjoy ourselves. Okay, you're right, we might as well take a few more glances at Him."

"Is there really no room for maneuver at all?" Wayne frowned, never having imagined such a passive situation.

A sudden deviation from reality could shatter everything in an instant.

Ethan shrugged, feigning helplessness, and smiled:

"Yes, although I haven't experienced it myself, if the deviation from reality is 50%, then we are essentially facing a great being. At that time, the surrounding environment might be completely polluted and distorted, and we might not even be able to distinguish between reality and illusion. Humans cannot fight against this situation, so there's no need to worry about it, haha."

A profound sense of powerlessness.

Wayne sighed softly, "Well, in that case, it's also important to enjoy the present moment."

Ethan slightly relaxed his shoulders, glanced at the time on his watch, and said half-jokingly:

"Haha, let's go. It's a little past nine o'clock now, there's still plenty of time. The team leader said you're going to be promoted to a full investigator tomorrow. We've been on missions for the past two days and haven't had a chance to show you around the city properly. Don't wait until you die one day and the Special Bureau honors you as a city hero, but you have no idea what the city looks like or what city heroes have protected."

As he spoke, Ethan had already started walking south along the street.

"There's no way he'll die so quickly..." Wayne followed.

The incandescent streetlights shone brightly, the department store windows reflected dazzling light, and the brick buildings and carved exterior walls exuded a strong sense of the era.

The trams clanged along, and private cars and luxury sedans with their lights on passed by in an orderly fashion. Most pedestrians were dressed in formal attire, hats, and skirts, walking with a leisurely pace.

"Just walking?" Wayne asked.

"You have a car, you can drive it." Ethan strolled leisurely.

"I don't have a driver's license," Wayne shrugged.

"You have a car?" Ethan glanced at Wayne.

"I can ask my family for it," Wayne said casually.

"Great, remember to get me one," Ethan said.

"Sure, pick whatever you like," Wayne said sincerely.

Ethan stopped and turned to ask, "Really?"

Wei En said casually, "It's not really about giving it, but about giving it slowly, gradually, and rhythmically..."

"Okay, okay..." Ethan turned around and continued walking forward.

As I passed by the entrance of an upscale theater, a couple in evening gowns leaned against a brass lamppost to say goodbye.

The man wrapped the woman's fur shawl tighter, casually tossed the brand-new bouquet of flowers into a roadside trash can, turned around, got into his car, and drove away smoothly.

Wayne glanced at the bouquet of flowers and remarked, "They really live a luxurious life, throwing them away so easily."

Ethan stared ahead, his pace unhurried, and quipped, "Oh dear, when it comes to luxury, how can we compare to Mr. Webber?"

Wayne was somewhat amused and exasperated. Although he had transmigrated, Ethan's words were indeed true; the Webber family was indeed extravagant.

Not far away, several bank employees walked by together after get off work, carrying leather briefcases and chatting. They talked about stocks, suburban estates, private horse farms, and so on. When they saw a beggar on the street, they subconsciously stepped aside to avoid him, their eyes showing no emotion.

"None of these bank employees can boast like Felix. He really is a top-notch account manager. He's just...who knows?" Wayne chuckled to himself.

Among the passing cars, a wealthy woman sat in the back seat, rolled down the window, and threw a whole piece of cream cake, which she didn't like, to a stray dog.

"What a waste!" Wayne exclaimed in surprise. He had rarely seen anything like this even on Earth in his previous life.

"Money talks." Ethan said, as if he was already used to it.

They chatted idly, from theaters to bars, from wealthy women to the gap between rich and poor, then from a cluster of bars to the differences in their styles, mentioning how model couples had dignified dinners but secretly met their lovers in underground bars, how businessmen backstage at theaters used watching performances as an excuse to seduce actresses, and how young girls dancing in jazz bars were gossiped about and had their reputations ruined by conservative older generations…

Wayne couldn't help but think to himself, "So this is what the city heroes protect?"

After walking for about an hour, I passed the tram terminus. The tram stopped heading towards the south, and the asphalt road suddenly ended, replaced by a gravel road.

We have reached the outskirts of the southern district.

The new shops gradually disappeared, replaced by pawnshops, taverns, and general stores with faded facades. The smells of coffee and perfume in the air also gradually faded, and began to be mixed with a faint smell of coal smoke.

Some unemployed workers appeared on the street, wearing dirty old work clothes, with their hats pulled low, leaning against the wall in a daze.

Wei En's impressions of the Southern District over the past two days flashed through his mind.

The South District is the main area of ​​activity for Michigan’s three major gangs: the Bloods, the Crimes, and the Bandits.

Needless to say, the Bloods were involved; Benjamin was a member of the Bloods, and the breakthrough in the Bob case was inseparable from the confessions of Bloods members.

The Sin Gang, whose current leader is Philip, the owner of the Silver Corridor cabaret, and whose former leader's son is Joseph, who owns the Hofhouse tavern.

Meanwhile, Joseph frequently gave speeches in the pub, secretly bringing together the three major gangs to resist the Eastside New Town.

Since it involves East Side real estate, and the division of the pie, it's inevitable that the underground mayor Howard and the city councilors and bankers would be involved...

Wayne was truly surprised that he had only been in Michigan for three days and had already roughly figured out the outline of some of the conflicts in the city.

In my previous life, even if I lived in one place for twenty years, I might not have known this much.

Just then, a young woman walked out of a wooden apartment building next door.

She turned and closed the door, then stood in the doorway adjusting her stockings, her fingers expertly smoothing out the wrinkles. She was still wearing an old coat over a knee-length dress.

Her golden curly hair, with its dark gold waves rippling and reflecting in the night wind like soft metal wires, stood out starkly against the dilapidated surroundings.

Then, as she walked out, she took out a small mirror from her handbag to touch up her lipstick.

Just as she was about to walk past Wayne, she suddenly stopped, turned her head to look at him, and after a moment, her eyes lit up with surprise.

"Mr. Weber, is that you?"