You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

"Of course, you're not wrong, but this is just a more civilized way of saying it."

"The reality is that if you send too much to someone, they will be robbed, and the consequences will be dire."

Irina frowned, looking somewhat puzzled.

"There are always some petty thugs and drug addicts eyeing the relief points; they desperately need something to exchange for money, alcohol, or fentanyl."

Lyon pointed to the alleyways around the square. "The relief is never enough. It's okay if they give out bread normally, but it's not worth much and can't be exchanged for money."

"During holidays, churches will distribute things like baby formula, prescription drugs, or gift certificates that can be used as cash, in order to do accounting or publicity. Some even give out electronic products."

"Those are all good things; they can be easily converted into money, and then the money can be used to buy other things."

"If you give someone an extra gift certificate because you think they're in a bad situation, they're really in for it. Getting robbed by drug addicts would be the least of their worries."

"You know, some people are already mentally unstable. They will not only steal all their belongings, but also leave them there for us to collect their bodies."

Irina listened, somewhat lost in thought. She lived in a relatively safe school district in Seattle, where people would complain about their neighbors' untrimmed lawns or make a huge fuss over trivial matters like that.

In her original understanding, "poor security" was just a vague term, meaning that one could not go out alone at night, or had to lock the car door and not leave anything in the car.

"Girls like you are better off keeping your extra sympathy to yourself."

Lyon looked her up and down.

"You are actually quite valuable. In some people's eyes, a college student who is alone is worth at least ten homeless people."

Irina looked somewhat lost. She opened her mouth, but found she couldn't refute it.

My initial enthusiasm for community service has been somewhat dampened, as if I were experiencing this world for the first time.

"Alright, stop spacing out."

Leon patted her shoulder, not too hard, not too soft. "The finishing touches are done. You should go back to your university. It's safer there than here."

"Someone like you is better suited to stay in a lab, not to doing charity work."

Irina swayed her shoulders, finally snapping out of her daze.

She shuddered, her eyes looking around blankly; the sky was already beginning to darken.

What had seemed like a somewhat dilapidated community square just moments before now appeared much more dangerous after hearing Lyon's arguments.

"Um... officer."

Irina pursed her lips, her voice sounding much softer than before, and a little nervous.

"Now that you've finished your work, can I buy you a coffee? It's at the one across the street corner. It's on me, as a thank you for teaching me so much common sense about life."

As she spoke, she subconsciously took half a step closer to Lyon, her eyes glancing out of the corner of her eye at the alley where the thug had disappeared.

Lyon couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at her.

He had just told her that a college student like her, with her delicate skin, was worth far more than a homeless person in this community, and the next thing she knew, he was going to buy her coffee.

She probably only wanted him to escort her back to her car and away from this dangerous area, not just to offer her coffee.

Anyway, I'm full of energy right now, and the other person is useful to me, so there's no harm in going for a visit.

"Since someone is treating me, I certainly have no reason to refuse."

……

A few days later, early in the morning, at the Seattle Police Department precinct.

Leon has retrieved his equipment that was previously taken from him.

"Hey buddy, you look great. How's your rest going these past few days?"

Bob walked over carrying a paper bag full of donuts, a cat hair still stuck to the collar of his uniform shirt, who knows what he was doing earlier.

He plopped down on a bench in the rest area, sighed, and took a donut out of his bag and handed it to Leon.

"Stop talking nonsense."

Leon pushed the donut back. He had eaten these before; they contained a lethal amount of sugar and were sprinkled with icing sugar or some other sugar on top—they were incredibly sweet.

"Where's that steak you owe me? I've been so bored at home these past few days that all I've done is research that damn hot pot broth, it's making my stomach churn."

Bob gave an awkward but polite smile and stuffed the donut that Leon had pushed back into the bag.

"Oh, don't even mention it, Leon. You had it easy. After firing those five shots, I spent a full twelve hours in my office writing that damn on-site report!"

"I also have to work with those idiots in the Internal Affairs Department to do a post-mortem review, typing out a bunch of documents on that awful office keyboard. Right now, all I can think about is filling out forms. Once this busy period is over, I'll definitely treat you."

"That would be best."

Lyon rolled his eyes and leaned against the locker.

Several officers who had just finished their shifts were sitting around me. It was rather counterintuitive that the night shift officers were usually young and inexperienced, while the patrol officers on the day shift were more seasoned veterans.

Lyon has actually been considering whether to switch to the night shift recently.

Although the job is to mentor new employees, the new employees will also be assigned to night shifts after the first phase of their day shift internship, which is a good opportunity for me to be transferred to another position at the same time.

As for why, although it is relatively safe during the day, most of the time it is just trivial matters, and the progress of accumulating system points is quite slow.

Nighttime is a bit more dangerous, but there are also many more things to deal with: drunk driving, drug driving, armed robbers, gangs...

Anyway, in free America, if there's work to be done, come and do it.

Just then, the door to the lounge was pushed open, and Sergeant Danfoss walked in. His face was still as grim as ever, as if nothing had gone right for him lately.

The previously chaotic room suddenly became much quieter.

While no one stood up and saluted Danfoss like a green recruit, they all dropped their earlier nonchalant attitude.

"Alright, everyone quiet down. Anyone who wants to eat, get out."

Danfoss's voice was as strong as ever. He turned to the side, revealing the three figures following behind him.

There were three new recruits, two men and one woman, all wearing brand-new uniforms.

"These are the new recruits assigned to our group this time."

Danfoss glanced at the seasoned veterans, then gave Leon a meaningful look. "Everyone will be assigned an instructor."

Then, Sergeant Danfoss clapped his hands, signaling the three new recruits to step forward.

"The new recruits have all arrived. Now I'll tell you about the assignments."

Danfoss first pointed to the male newcomer standing on the far left.

This guy was quite handsome, not short, and his gear was impeccably organized, but his gaze was very arrogant, with an undisguised air of pride. His chin was slightly raised, giving him the look of a savior who was "here to save Seattle".

"This is Harold, one of the top three in the police academy. He'll be working under Ward from now on."

The policeman named Ward sat in the corner. He looked to be in his thirties, with a very gloomy face, as if he had just come from a funeral. Even sitting there, he gave people a strong sense of oppression.

Upon hearing the assignment, he merely raised his eyelids symbolically, glanced at Harold, hummed in agreement, and then continued fiddling with his coffee cup.

Although he seemed like a quiet, reserved guy, Leon knew that this man was a recognized tough guy among the day shift patrol officers. He was ruthless, didn't talk much, was skilled in his work, and had people on his hands.

A genius like Harold, who comes from a police academy, has his mind filled with the heroic dreams of movies. He looks like the kind of hothead who will disobey orders on the scene, is eager to get medals, and is likely to mess things up in the end.

Only a tough guy like Ward, who keeps quiet and doesn't say a word, could handle this kind of guy.

Then, Danfoss looked at the male newcomer in the middle.

This guy is hunching his neck like a quail.

His uniform shirt seemed a size too big, his shoulders were hunched, his face was a little pale, his fingers kept twirling, and his eyes darted around.

Looking at the group of seasoned veterans around him, armed with guns and clubs, it was clear that he was beginning to seriously question his career choice.

"Wood, you go with Murphy."

Murphy, another retired patrol officer, was sitting in the back row picking his feet.

Upon hearing the instruction, Mo Fei rolled her eyes helplessly and let out a long sigh.

"Oh no!"

Bob, sitting next to Leon, couldn't help but laugh out loud. He nudged Leon's arm in a low voice and mocked him:

"Murphy, like me, just wants to live a peaceful life until retirement and collect his pension. Now he has to take care of a kid who might wet his pants at any moment. I bet he'll be writing a sick note this afternoon."

Lyon shrugged. Murphy was also a seasoned veteran who had been coasting along. Now that he and the two cowards, the newcomer, were sitting at the same table, they would probably spend their shifts at the back door of a nearby fast food restaurant.

Now, everyone's attention is focused on the last remaining female bride.

From the very beginning, she stood quietly at the very edge, head down, without saying a word.