Chapter 2202 - Ch: 11-20

Chapter 11: Taking Stock of the Harvest

It wasn't that klein couldn't catch up to Bullseye.

At the very moment that 'Bullet Thread' had pierced through Bullseye's lung, klein had already planted a 'Parasitic Thread' on him.

As long as Bullseye remained on this Planet, klein would be able to sense his location and life status.

It was just that for over a month, he had to study at school during the day and act as a cleaner in Hells Kitchen at night.

Even a donkey in a production team wasn't as busy as him.

Now that he had money, he wanted to be elegant, he wanted to indulge, and he wanted to be happy.

Bullseye's dog of a life could be temporarily stored with its owner.

He would wait until he had the time to go deal with him, and while he was at it, take his boss's life as well.

Killing two birds with one stone meant earning more.

klein carried the handbag all the way back to his apartment.

He casually tossed the heavy bag by the door.

First, he walked to the bathroom, twisted the faucet, and vigorously scrubbed his face several times with cold Water.

"Whew—!"

klein let out a long breath of turbid air; he could finally have a good rest for a while.

Then, he slowly strolled back to the living room.

He leaned over and unzipped the sports handbag.

Clatter—!

Bundles of dark green hundred-dollar bills, several velvet bags filled with gold bars that still shimmered with an alluring luster under the dim light, and some scattered jewelry were all dumped onto the sofa bed in one go.

klein then took the harvest he had scraped together over the past month and piled it all onto the sofa bed as well.

The bills, gold bars, accessories, and jewelry piled up, occupying nearly half the bed's surface and forming a tempting little mountain.

The unique scent of money seemed to permeate the air.

klein plopped down on the edge of the bed and began to count the money methodically, with a hint of enjoyment.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The sound of counting bills was so wonderful!

In the end, the cash was cleared: over five million one hundred thousand.

He weighed and estimated the gold and the jewelry of various origins; they were probably worth around 1.5 to 1.6 million.

For a loser student who, a month ago, was still worrying about whether to add a ham sausage to his next bowl of instant noodles, this was undoubtedly an astronomical sum.

As for the arms he had picked up along the way—

Various pistols, shotguns, automatic rifles, and even a few grenades were currently piled at the very bottom of the corner wardrobe.

These weapons were enough to fight a small-scale street battle, yet they were now being pressed into the bottom of a chest by klein like trash.

klein didn't have much interest in them; he was just keeping them temporarily. Who knew if they might come in handy one day? If not, he could always sell them as scrap metal.

As for that harmful 'flour,' he had long since used his heat vision to incinerate it completely after every operation, or poured it into the toilet to flush it down the sewer, leaving nothing behind.

"Over six million..." klein leaned back, his entire body sinking into the soft pile of bills and gold bars.

This feeling of being surrounded by wealth felt so damn grounding.

Thrilling! Awesome!!!

"Start the draw." At his peak moment of satisfaction, klein initiated a new lucky draw, hoping it would bring good luck.

[Ding!]

[The ability you drew this time is—Dynamic Vision!]

As the "Dynamic Vision" ability loaded, klein only felt a slight heat in his eyes. A strange, cool sensation spread from deep within his pupils, quickly diffusing through his entire optic nerve.

The World before his eyes suddenly became different. Everything was clearer than ever before, down to the finest detail.

He could even see the almost invisible dust floating slowly in the air, the trajectory of every single particle clearly discernible.

In the corner, a spider was weaving its web. Every vibration of the spider silk and every minute movement of its legs seemed to have been slowed down several times.

And that fly, which had slipped in through a gap in the window at some point and was buzzing around the room, looked to klein's current vision as if it were performing a moonwalk in space.

Each high-frequency vibration of those transparent wings became slow and clear; he could even see the minute tremors of the wing veins and the subtle adjustments of its center of gravity.

Every trajectory of its flight, turns, and hovering was decomposed and previewed before klein's eyes. He could even "see" where it might fly in the next second.

It was a wonderful feeling, as if time had been locally stretched in his eyes, or rather, the speed at which his brain processed visual information had been greatly enhanced.

Lying on the pile of money, klein blinked, reached out, and casually grabbed the air.

The fly that was trying to fly past him was caught between his two fingers without any suspense.

To be honest, this ability was quite practical.

However, for klein, who had already loaded three superpowers, Dynamic Vision was indeed a bit of a 'chicken rib'—useless but a pity to discard.

If you said it was useless?

Against long-range marksmen, assassins, or any situation requiring extremely high reaction speeds, this thing was a divine skill.

But if you said it was useful?

Even the physical strengthening that came with drawing the new skill only brought a brief warm current to his body.

Compared to the significant, all-around enhancement brought by Cyclops, the String-String Fruit, or even the Five Elements Talismans in the past, this enhancement was practically negligible.

klein complained, "Fuck! A trash person? So the reward drawn is also trash! Damn it! Isn't this a waste of time?!"

However, klein also knew the value of Dynamic Vision. An extra bit of reaction speed was an extra bit of capital for survival. For something obtained for free, one shouldn't be picky.

He was just habitually used to getting SSRs from his previous three draws; suddenly getting a white card made him a bit uncomfortable.

klein lay back in the pile of money, cushioned his head with his hands, and closed his eyes.

"First, get a good night's sleep. Then, start spending money!"

...

The next day, it wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that klein leisurely woke up from the pile of money.

Sunlight streamed through the small window, warmly spilling over the bed full of green bills and gold, reflecting a heart-stirring glow.

klein gave a huge stretch, his bones making a light popping sound. The fatigue accumulated over the past month seemed to have been mostly dispelled by this sleep.

He casually grabbed a neatly bound stack of hundred-dollar bills and took a deep breath under his nose.

"Ah... the fragrance of money. It actually smells so good."

Although this money was stained with blood, klein didn't care. In a place like Hells Kitchen, which bill didn't have some dirty business behind it?

He himself was clean, and now that this money belonged to him, the money was also clean.

klein got up, took a shower, and changed into clean clothes.

Standing before the cracked mirror in the bathroom, he grinned at his reflection.

"Truly handsome! How can a young lad be this handsome!"

klein was rich now, so naturally, he had to do things that rich people do.

First, go to the best restaurant in Manhattan and have a real feast;

Then, go buy a few decent outfits; after all, clothes make the man, just as a saddle makes the horse.

And then...

klein rubbed his chin, a smile appearing on his face that any man would understand.

"Rescue the fallen women of America!"

klein's merit is truly boundless.

He pocketed a stack of cash and whistled as he prepared to go downstairs.

Chapter 12: Heartbreak

"Ring ring ring!"

A phone ringtone chimed, interrupting klein's original plans.

"Hello, who is it?"

There was a two-second silence on the other end before a wilted, listless voice came through:

"Klein, it's me, Peter..."

klein's eyebrows shot up; that voice sounded quite off.

He pulled the phone away from his ear to check the screen, confirming it was indeed Peter, then pressed it back to his ear, his tone carrying a hint of teasing:

"What's going on? Did someone boil you? You sound like a frost-bitten eggplant."

On the other end, Peter sniffled:

"Klein, where are you right now?"

"At home, just got up. No classes today, so I was planning to head out for a stroll. Why, want to come along? I'll take you to see the World."

As klein spoke, he bent down to rummage through the shoe cabinet for a pair of sneakers.

"Come over here," Peter's voice held a rare stubbornness, even a bit of... self-abandonment? "Come and have a drink with me."

"Huh?" klein's movements paused; he forgot to put on his shoes and stepped directly onto the floor with his bare foot.

"What did you say? Drink with you? Peter, are you okay? What happened?" In his memory, Peter was the ultimate good boy; alcohol was something that shouldn't even be in his vocabulary.

For him to suddenly ask for a drink was like a bride getting into the sedan chair—a first-time occurrence...

"Don't ask," Peter interrupted him, his voice carrying a suppressed irritability.

"I've been dumped. Come and drink with me. The address is 3rd Avenue in Queens, a little tavern called 'Sorrow's End' at the end of the alley. Do you know the place?"

klein searched his memory; there seemed to be such an inconspicuous, rundown bar tucked deep in an alley.

"I know it, but you..."

"Just hurry up. I'll tell you the details when you get here." Peter hung up without giving him another chance to ask.

Listening to the busy tone, klein gripped his phone and stared blankly for two seconds before clicking his tongue.

When a brother is in trouble, everyone gives a thumbs up... ah no, one must go through fire and water.

"Fine, I'll put the business of gaining merit aside for now; I have to go save this fallen young man first."

klein put on his shoes and went downstairs, hailing a yellow cab and giving the address Peter provided. The bar was in a remote location, but it was relatively quiet and cheap; its usual customers were struggling blue-collar workers and college students from nearby.

The car wove through the afternoon traffic.

klein leaned against the window, watching the street scenery recede rapidly, wondering what was wrong with Peter.

According to the timeline, Peter and Gwen Stacy should just be classmates with a mutual crush, not even on formal dating terms yet. What kind of heartbreak could he have?

Could it be he saw someone else confessing to Gwen? This kid's heart is way too small.

Arriving at the destination, klein paid and got out.

He pushed open the bar door; the light inside was dim, the air thick with the smell of beer, fried chicken, and old wood.

There weren't many people in the afternoon, with just a few customers scattered in the corners.

He spotted Peter at a glance—

He was currently sitting in the innermost booth, holding a half-finished beer, head bowed, unconsciously tracing the water stains on the table with his finger.

klein walked over and looked into the booth; besides the beer in Peter's hand, there was nothing else.

He pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, the plastic chair legs making a harsh screeching sound against the floor.

Peter looked up at the sound, and seeing it was klein, forced a smile that looked worse than crying.

"You're here... *hic*!" He gave a beer burp, his eyes behind his glasses a bit red, though whether from the alcohol or something else was unclear.

"Holy shit, I fucking thought you were going to commit suicide for love? After all that, you're just sitting here nursing a single bottle of beer!" klein knocked on the table and signaled the bartender.

"Waiter~ give me two whiskies, on the rocks."

"Don't, Klein..."

"It's fine, I made a little money recently. My treat!"

"No, I can't drink anymore. I'm a bit dizzy."

"Wimp. Why come to a bar if you can't drink? Couldn't you just drink at home?

Give him a Mojito too, non-alcoholic," klein continued to the bartender.

The bartender nodded expressionlessly and went off.

"So tell me, what's the deal? Acting like it's life or death?" klein leaned forward, arms resting on the table.

Peter didn't answer immediately; he grabbed the beer bottle and took another swig, then—broke into a violent coughing fit.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

klein quickly patted his back.

"Alright! If you can't drink, don't. It's just a breakup! Is it really necessary?"

"Klein..." Peter's voice was thick with nasal congestion and a hint of uncontrollable trembling, "I... I think... I messed everything up."

Just then, the bartender arrived with a tray, placing the two whiskies and a pale green Mojito on the table.

klein pushed the non-alcoholic Mojito in front of Peter, then wordlessly took the half-bottle of beer from his hand and set it on his own side.

"Speak up, what's the story?" klein picked up a glass of whisky and took a sip.

It didn't taste good; the drinks in cheap taverns were all fucking watered down.

Peter took a deep breath, his voice trembling uncontrollably with a sob.

In fact, klein was to blame for this; if he hadn't kept egging Peter on, Peter wouldn't have confessed, and what happened now wouldn't have occurred.

It turns out that a month ago... after klein said those things to Peter.

Peter made up his mind, then worked like crazy at part-time jobs for over twenty days to save enough money to buy a necklace.

Then he plucked up the courage to go and confess to Gwen.

And Gwen had readily agreed.

At this point, a brief spark finally appeared on Peter's face: "This past week or so has been the happiest time of my life. We ate together, went to the library together, and I'd walk her home at night... Klein, do you know, when she smiles, there are stars in her eyes..."

"Stop, stop, stop!" klein made a 'cut' gesture, looking disgusted. "Get to the point, don't feed me that dog food. So? How did you break up?"

The spark on Peter's face vanished completely, replaced by a grayness bordering on despair:

"Yesterday morning... Captain George Stacy found me."

"He asked me to meet at a cafe near the school. He said he knew Gwen and I were dating. He said he'd investigated me, knew I wasn't a bad kid, knew I worked hard, knew about my parents... knew I live with my aunt now.

But, he said I don't have the ability to give Gwen the life she deserves. That I would only make Gwen suffer with me."

"After Mr. Stacy finished, I felt like Gwen and I were from two different Worlds. He's right!

That dress Gwen wears, I'd have to save for three months without eating or drinking just to afford it.

Gwen wants to go to Cambridge for further studies after graduation, and her father wants her to enter the FBI or the Department of Justice. These are things I can't reach."

Peter wiped his face: "I went back and thought about it all day. Finally—

Last night, I called Gwen. I broke up with her!"

Peter finally lost control, large tears falling and splashing onto the table.

"I hung up and cried all night at home. When I woke up this morning, I felt like I was suffocating, so I... I came here."

klein listened quietly, remaining silent for a full ten seconds.

Then, he picked up his glass of whisky and downed it in one gulp.

Chapter 13: Indulgence

"Tsk..." klein clicked his tongue after hearing that.

He looked at Peter, whose face was a mess of snot and tears, still sobbing while muttering, "I hope Gwen is happy for the rest of her life."

"Boss, check please!"

After paying for the drinks, klein hauled Peter up from where he was slumped in the booth.

Peter's whole body was limp, his steps unsteady, and he nearly fell headfirst.

"K-Klein... what are you doing? I... I have to go home... This afternoon, I have a part-time job..." Peter's tongue was thick with drink, yet he was still worried about work.

"Part-time job my ass!" klein grumbled, propping up one of Peter's arms and dragging him outside. "Look at the state of you. You can't even walk straight, and you're still thinking about a part-time job?"

"But... the money..."

"Forget the money! Today, you listen to me!"

Without another word, klein stuffed Peter into the back of a yellow taxi parked outside the bar, squeezed in himself, and gave the driver an address.

It was a relatively quiet street located in MidtownManhattan, near Fifth Avenue.

The car wove through the busy streets of New York before finally turning into a tree-lined side road and stopping in front of an unassuming off-white building whose materials and design exuded sophistication.

There was no flashy sign, only a line of elegant, gold-leafed cursive English embedded in the dark marble wall: "Elysium Club."

This was a place klein had heard about while clearing out a gang in Hell's Kitchen.

According to those unlucky bastards, this was the hottest high-end club in New York recently.

Here, as long as the numbers in your bank account were pretty enough, you could enjoy almost any top-tier service you desired.

He paid the fare and got out.

klein practically dragged the stumbling Peter out of the taxi.

"K-Klein... where is this?" Peter forced his drunken eyes open, looking around in confusion.

"A good place where you can forget your troubles." klein threw an arm around his shoulder and headed straight for the main entrance.

At the entrance, two burly security guards in black suits immediately stepped forward, eyeing the two uninvited guests warily—

One was a drunken, ordinarily dressed young man with glasses, and the other, though sober, was also wearing very cheap clothes.

They didn't look like the type who could afford to spend money here.

"Sir, this is a high-end club, you need..." one guard reached out to stop them.

Without even looking at him, klein pulled a stack of crisp green bills from his back pocket. Without counting, he drew twenty bills—a thousand dollars each—and stuffed them into the guards' chest pockets.

"My brother's in a bad mood and came to clear his head. How about a little favor?"

With a thousand dollars in hand, the guard's expression instantly shifted from wary to a most enthusiastic, fawning smile. He smoothly stepped aside and even solicitously helped steady the swaying Peter.

"Of course, of course! Please come in, sir! Do you need any help?"

"No need, I've got him." klein waved them off and hoisted Peter into the lobby, which was filled with soft lighting and a faint scent of incense.

Immediately, a Madam in a well-tailored skirt suit and exquisite makeup approached them with a sweet smile.

Her gaze swept quickly over klein and Peter; after seeing klein casually hand out two thousand dollars in tips to the guards, her smile grew even warmer.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Welcome to the Elysium Club. How may I be of service?"

"Arrange two girls for my brother," klein said, pushing Peter onto a nearby sofa and pointing at him. "Make them hot and experienced. Take good care of him."

He then pointed to himself. "I'm going to get a SPA first and relax. Get me the best one."

The Madam understood perfectly, her smile widening. "No problem, sir. I guarantee you'll be satisfied. Right this way, the SPA area is on the fourth floor. Leave this gentleman to us; we'll make sure he has an unforgettable afternoon."

klein patted the still-dazed Peter on the shoulder. "Enjoy yourself, brother. It's on me. Forget all that bullshit!

Now is the time for fun! For play! For a good time!"

With that, he nodded to the Madam and leisurely followed another waiter toward the elevator to the fourth floor.

As for Peter, he was helped up by two hot blonde girls in skimpy outfits and charming smiles, one on each side.

By now, Peter was half-sobered by the shock. His face turned bright red, and he tried to struggle awkwardly. "Wait! Klein! N-no need! I... I want to go home!"

"Don't be shy, sir..." "Just relax, we'll make you feel very comfortable..."

Under the soft-spoken assault of the two girls and their firm support, the semi-resisting Peter was led toward a room on the second floor.

...

Two hours later.

In the club's exquisite restaurant, klein was comfortably nestled in a soft sofa booth, with a glass of decanted red wine and several plates of delicate appetizers before him.

After completing a deep SPA from head to toe, he had also exchanged some martial arts pointers with two Eastern European girls.

With klein's current physical fitness, he naturally left the two women utterly defeated—completely overwhelmed, prostrate in submission, and screaming until they were hoarse.

Just then, a flurry of panicked footsteps came from the restaurant entrance.

klein looked up to see Peter stumbling in. His hair was a mess, his glasses hung crookedly on the bridge of his nose, and his clothes were wrinkled, with two buttons done up wrong.

"Well? Did you have fun? Was it great?"

But then he noticed the dark circles under Peter's eyes.

"Looks like you had a great time, maybe even a bit too much!"

"K-Klein!" Peter rushed to the table, his voice trembling. "W-what kind of place did you bring me to?! They... they... I... I..."

He stammered for a long time without managing to say anything coherent.

His clean-cut face was a picture of lost innocence and panic, along with a hint of... an indescribable daze and pleasure from having tasted the forbidden fruit for the first time.

klein leisurely picked up his wine glass and took a sip, admiring Peter's unprecedentedly disheveled appearance, the smile on his lips widening.

"What's wrong, Peter? Not satisfied with the service? Then I'll have to have a word with their manager."

"N-no!" Peter waved his hands hurriedly, his face flushing even deeper under klein's teasing gaze.

He then slumped into the chair opposite klein, clutching his head in his hands.

"I... what have I done... Aunt May is going to kill me... I-I'm not clean anymore..."

Seeing Peter look as if the sky had fallen, klein finally couldn't help but burst into loud laughter, which echoed through the quiet restaurant.

"Alright, alright, is it really that serious?" Having had his laugh, klein pushed another already-poured glass of red wine toward Peter.

"Have a drink to calm your nerves. It's no big deal. Every man has to go through this once. Besides, wasn't this to help you get over your breakup as quickly as possible?"

"Come on, let's have a toast to celebrate Student Peterofficially becoming a man today!"

Peter looked at the dark red liquid in the glass, then at klein's teasing but well-meaning face, recalling the chaotic, crazy experience of the past two hours that was completely beyond his imagination and control...

Finally, he grabbed the glass and gulped it down, only to be choked and start coughing violently again.

But this time, after the coughing subsided, the panic and shame on his face seemed to fade slightly, replaced by a hint of relief.

klein watched as Peter slowly calmed down.

"Now, do you feel it? Do you still think leaving Gwen is the end of the World?"

Peter held the empty glass, his head bowed. After a long while, he muttered:

"...It seems... not that painful anymore. It's just... I feel strange?"

"That's the spirit." klein poured a little more wine for himself and Peter.

"Out with the old, in with the new. Look forward; life is still long."

Chapter 14: Guidance

klein handed a menu to Peter and then called a waiter over to start ordering.

Peter took the menu, looking at the fancy dish names and the string of zeros following them, his hand shaking slightly. "Klein, this place... it's too expensive, isn't it? We can eat somewhere else..."

"Expensive my ass, it's my treat!" klein said to the waiting waiter, tapping his finger sharply on the menu.

"This, this, and this... the steak should be medium-rare, and make sure the pasta sauce is reduced until it's thick."

"Certainly, sir. Please wait a moment." The waiter made his notes with practiced ease, bowed, and stepped away.

While waiting for the food, klein leaned back into the soft sofa, swirling his wine glass as he watched Peter, who still looked a bit awkward and kept pushing up his sliding glasses.

"Peter, take some advice from your brother. Some things, once they're in the past, they're in the past. If you keep holding on, you're only making it hard on yourself.

Gwen is a good girl, I'll admit that. But you have to look forward. There are plenty of good girls in this world; she's not the only one."

Peter kept his head down, unconsciously poking at the snow-white tablecloth with his fork, his voice muffled. "I know... but I just..."

"You're just a greenhorn who hasn't experienced enough," klein interrupted him. "You'll be fine after a few more times. A man has to stumble over women a few times before he can truly grow up.

The reason I brought you here today is to open your eyes, to let you know that the Angel in others' eyes is nothing more than a plaything to some.

Your goddess is nothing more than someone else's RBQ!"

"No, Gwen isn't that kind of person!"

Peter's face turned beet red as he opened his mouth to argue.

"What are you getting so worked up for? I wasn't talking about Gwen! Do you understand what a metaphor is? Like an example?"

Looking at Peter in front of him, klein sighed! He truly was someone who, even if he turned to the dark side, would only want to throw a bit of dust in your eyes.

Such kindness! It was almost too much!

Just then, the food arrived.

Sizzling top-tier steaks, fragrant baked lobster, exquisite appetizers and salads, and seafood pasta filled the small dining table.

"Eat!" klein said, first cutting a large piece of steak and stuffing it into his mouth, chewing as he spoke indistinctly.

"Turn your grief and indignation into an appetite. Once you're full, go home and sleep it off. Tomorrow the Sun will rise as usual; it's no big deal."

Peter looked at the dinner before him, which was so feast-like it bordered on decadent, and then at Klein, who was eating heartily on the other side without any regard for his image.

He picked up his knife and fork, imitating Klein's manner, cut a piece of steak, and put it in his mouth.

The meat was tender and juicy, cooked to perfection—a delicacy he had never tasted before.

No matter the time, food always possessed a certain power to soothe the soul.

It allowed Peter's tense nerves and chaotic thoughts to gradually settle down.

"That's more like it." Seeing him start to eat, klein grinned and raised his wine glass. "Come on, let's have a toast—to... your dead love, and to damn tomorrow!"

Peter hesitated for a moment, then also raised his glass and clinked it against klein's.

The glasses collided with a crisp sound.

"Klein, today... thank you. If you hadn't come to accompany me and comfort me..."

"Alright, stop right there." klein waved a hand, interrupting Peter's self-indulgent emotional speech. "Hurry up and eat your steak; it won't taste good once it's cold. Look at that worn-out face of yours, you need to nourish yourself properly."

klein speared a large piece of snow-white lobster meat from his plate and stuffed it into his mouth, talking to Peterwhile he ate.

"I told you before, I gave you the chance to make your move first. Now that you haven't succeeded, don't blame your brother for not being considerate."

"When the time comes, I'll show you exactly how klein chases girls."

Peter's hand holding the utensils paused. He lowered his head, his voice muffled. "Klein, stop joking like that..."

"Who's joking with you?" klein raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious. That girl Gwen has the face, the body, she's smart and independent, and she comes from a good family. She's a catch anywhere. If you hadn't set your sights on her first, I would have made my move long ago.

But don't worry, brothers for life! I won't make a move until you've found someone new."

Peter opened his mouth and forced a bitter smile that looked worse than crying:

"Gwen... Gwen has nothing to do with me anymore. No matter who... whoever is with her in the future, as long as they treat Gwen well... I will give them my blessing."

He paused for a moment and looked at Klein with a candid gaze:

"If... if it's you, Klein... then please, treat Gwen well."

"Fuck! No way! Brother! You actually have a Cuckoldstreak? Are you into that kind of weird stuff?

You wouldn't actually push her from behind if she asked, would you?"

"Klein!" Peter's face turned bright red, this time from shame and annoyance. He looked left and right, then growled in a low voice, "D-don't talk such nonsense!"

"Tch! You're just saying that."

klein pointed at the steak in front of Peter, which had barely been touched.

"Hurry up and eat, don't waste food! It was quite expensive."

Soothing jazz music flowed through the restaurant.

Neither of them spoke again; there was only the occasional slight sound of cutlery clinking against porcelain plates.

Once they were full and satisfied, klein signaled the waiter for the bill.

The number on the bill made Peter gasp, but klein didn't even blink, pulling out cash to pay in full and leaving a generous tip on top.

"Let's go, I'll take you home." klein stood up and patted his stomach with a satisfied look.

As they walked out of the club, the evening breeze blew with a chill, making Peter shiver and clearing his head significantly.

He looked at klein beside him, who was humming an out-of-tune little ditty with a relaxed expression. He opened his mouth and finally whispered:

"Klein... thank you. Today... I'm sorry for making you spend so much."

"Cut the crap." klein waved his hand dismissively, hailed a taxi, and stuffed Peter inside.

"Remember, what happened today stays between us. If your Aunt finds out, I'm not admitting I was the one who brought you here."

Peter nodded vigorously, his expression as solemn as if he were taking an oath.

The car stopped downstairs at Peter's home.

"Go on in and get a good night's sleep," klein said to Peter through the car window. "Do what you need to do tomorrow. A man should be able to pick things up and put them down."

"Yeah." Peter nodded, hesitated for a moment, and added, "You... you should also go back and rest early."

"I know, quit nagging." klein waved his hand, signaling the driver to go.

Looking at Peter's somewhat dejected back as he walked toward the apartment, klein leaned back against the car seat and sighed.

"Adolescent brats are such a pain," he muttered, then gave the driver the address of his own apartment.

The car merged back into the night traffic of New York.

Chapter 15: House Hunting

klein sat in the car, watching the neon lights flash past outside the window, calculating his next steps in his heart.

Now that he had money, it was time to plan properly on how to make his life a bit more comfortable.

First, he had to change to a more decent place to live.

Although that small apartment carried his initial memories, it was far too cramped and offered no security or privacy to speak of.

klein rubbed his chin, starting to seriously consider this happy dilemma.

Before, he was poor and had no choice. Now that he had money in hand, he naturally couldn't wrong himself anymore.

"I need to find a place that's safe, private, and comfortable." klein's fingers tapped lightly on his knee as he began to outline the silhouette of his ideal residence.

The location couldn't be too remote, as he needed it to be convenient for movement and enjoying life, but it couldn't be in the bustling city center either; it was too noisy there.

It would be best if it were near Chinatown, making it convenient for him to eat, and the lifestyle there would help him adapt faster.

Secondly, transportation.

Constantly taking taxis was indeed inconvenient; when going to remote or special places, taxis either wouldn't go or posed safety risks.

Finally, he needed something to do.

He couldn't just sit around and exhaust his resources, lying around spending money all day; that would just waste his life away.

He needed some serious business to do, even if it only looked serious.

It would allow him to reasonably justify his source of funds, provide him with a suitable identity and social circle in this society, and he could earn some money along the way.

Start a company? Invest in some industries?

klein wasn't good at any of those; otherwise, he wouldn't have been a corporate slave in his past life.

Use his current abilities to do some unique small business?

This is good! This is good!

Several vague ideas flashed through klein's mind, but they hadn't fully formed yet.

"Sir, we've arrived." The driver's voice interrupted klein's thoughts.

The car had already stopped downstairs at the apartment.

klein paid the fare and got out of the car.

The cold night wind blew, giving him a slight mental refresh.

Up the stairs, open the door, into the room.

A familiar scene, but looking at it now, it inexplicably felt even smaller and more dilapidated.

"It's easy to go from frugality to luxury..." klein laughed self-mockingly.

Walking to the tiny bathroom, he turned on the faucet and took a shower with cold water.

After washing up, klein lay down in bed.

The moment his body sank in, he let out a comfortable sigh.

Although he had planned a lot, he didn't really understand the specific operations.

Buying a house or a car involved laws, contracts, market conditions, and those potential pitfalls.

His knowledge of the New York real estate market, the car market, and even the business environment was limited to the original Kline's pitiful memory fragments and the hearsay he'd heard before transmigrating.

"Professional matters should still be handled by professional people." klein made a decision in his heart.

Tomorrow, he would first go to a reputable, formal agency to look at houses.

The same for a car; find a reliable dealership or broker.

As for what business to do... he could investigate slowly; there was no rush.

Thinking about it, klein's eyelids began to fight.

His thoughts gradually blurred, and he fell into a deep sleep.

...

The next day, klein was woken up by the Sun shining through the window.

He squinted at the old wall clock—it was almost ten o'clock.

"The Sun is high in the sky, how nice." He mumbled, lingering in bed, not wanting to move.

He reached for the phone by the bedside, found Peter's number, and dialed it.

After a few rings, it connected, and Peter's voice came through, sounding a bit more energetic than yesterday:

"Hey, Kline..."

"Peter, do me a favor." klein got straight to the point, "Help me ask the Professor for a leave of absence today. Just say I'm not feeling well and can't make it."

"Huh? You're skipping class again?" Peter was somewhat helpless, "You've already asked for leave several times this semester. If this continues..."

"Cut the crap, are you helping or not?" klein interrupted him.

"...Fine." Peter sighed, "But next time you..."

"I know, I know, definitely next time. Thanks, brother, I'll treat you to a meal later." After saying that, klein didn't wait for Peter to nag further and hung up directly.

Having settled the leave of absence, klein lay in bed for another five minutes before finally crawling up.

He went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, washed his face, shaved, and then fished out a clean set of T-shirt and jeans from the closet to change into.

He pulled out about a hundred thousand US dollars, packed it into an inconspicuous kraft paper bag, and stuffed it into an old backpack he carried with him.

He also took a small amount of change and put it in his pocket for backup.

With the bag on his back and the door locked, klein walked down the creaking stairs with a light step.

After going downstairs, klein settled his brunch at a fast-food restaurant on the street corner.

A signature beef burger, a large portion of fried chicken, and a glass of iced cola.

He sat on a high stool by the window, chewing his food while looking through the somewhat greasy glass window at the street scene of Queens outside.

His mind was still filtering through things to watch out for during the house viewing later.

After filling his stomach, klein wiped his hands, took out his phone, and began searching for highly-rated real estate agencies nearby.

After visiting three in a row, klein felt they weren't very reliable.

Until he walked into the fourth one, where there was only one young man in the shop, wearing a neatly ironed but not expensive shirt, focused on organizing data at the computer.

Seeing klein enter, he immediately stood up, showing a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, sir, I'm Tony. How can I help you? Renting or buying?"

"Buying." klein was concise, stating his requirements: quiet, good privacy, preferably in or near the Chinatownarea, budget... could be flexible for now.

Tony listened very seriously, nodding occasionally. After klein finished, he didn't immediately push a sale but sat back at the computer to quickly tap the keyboard and filter listings.

"There are currently six properties that meet your requirements, but two of them just had letters of intent signed. There are four we can see immediately."

He printed out several sheets of information with photos and basic details and handed them to klein, "If you have time, we can go take a look now."

klein took the information, scanned it, and nodded: "Fine, let's go take a look now."

Over the next few hours, Tony drove a semi-old Toyota, taking klein through areas of Queens and Brooklynadjacent to Chinatown.

The first three houses each had their own problems—

One was located in the center of a block; the location was great, but the environment was too dense and noisy;

One had enough space but the interior was old and needed extensive renovation;

Another had a good location and layout, but the landlord was a difficult old man with a bunch of additional conditions.

When Tony parked the car on a relatively quiet side street in Brooklyn near Chinatown, the Sun had already begun to sink in the west.

"klein, this is the last one for today."

Tony pointed to a detached two-story building on the roadside and introduced it.

"The owner is a Chinese lady, a retired dentist. The house is well-maintained, and she's in a hurry to sell because she wants to return to her home country for retirement, to return to her roots."

klein got out of the car and looked the house over.

It was a brick-and-stone structure, looking somewhat aged but very well-maintained, with clean exterior walls and bright windows.

A typical street-front shop style, the first floor was a spacious storefront, and the second floor was the residential level.

It was a single-family unit; although it was close to the neighbors on the left and right, being a brick-and-stone house compared to a wooden structure, the privacy was much higher.

The location was also good, situated on a street corner, neither remote nor directly facing the noise of the main road.

Tony used the key to open the door, and a scent mixed with a faint smell of disinfectant wafted out, though it wasn't unpleasant.

The first floor was open and spacious; it used to be a dental clinic and still had some traces of removal, but overall it was clean and tidy, with full water, electricity, and gas lines, as well as a bathroom, kitchen, and a storage room.

Going up the stairs to the second floor, it was a standard residential area: a living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a card room, and a small balcony overlooking the alley behind.

Although the decoration style was a bit old-fashioned, everything was spotless; it was clear the previous owner was a person who loved cleanliness.

Adding the top and bottom floors together, Tonyintroduced that it was about 380 square meters.

klein carefully looked around inside and out, becoming more satisfied the more he looked.

The location, space, privacy, and structure all met his requirements.

Especially the storefront on the first floor, which could also allow him to do some small business.

"This house is not bad." klein stood by the window of the second-floor living room, looking at the quiet street below, "What's the owner's asking price? Why has it been listed for so long without selling?"

Hearing klein say it was not bad, a smile appeared on Tony's face, but then he rubbed his hands together somewhat awkwardly.

"klein, to be honest with you, everything about this house is good, it's just... the price is a bit awkward."

"Doctor Lin—oh, that's the owner—she's asking for four million. At this price, in the same area, if it were a pure residential apartment, you could buy something newer and better managed. If it were a pure commercial shop, you could also buy something in a better location."

"So this house is a bit... neither here nor there. It's been listed for over half a year; there are people who ask, but once they hear the price and look at the 'mixed-use' nature of the house that isn't quite pure for either, they all hesitate."

Four million. klein quickly calculated in his heart.

He currently had about 6.5 million in cash plus gold and jewelry; after deducting this expense, he would still have over two million left.

Moreover, what he valued was precisely the uniqueness of this 'mixed-use' property.

"Is the price negotiable?" klein turned around and looked at Tony.

Chapter 16: Buying a Car

Tony was delighted when he heard that klein wanted to discuss the price.

Reaching the stage of asking about the price usually meant he was truly interested.

He quickly said, "klein, I can contact the owner right now and ask about her intentions. If she's willing, you two can set a time to chat in person."

klein raised an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you afraid we'll cut you out and do a private deal?"

Tony smiled. "The owner signed an exclusive listing with us and has already paid a deposit.

According to the law, as long as the house is sold, no matter how the buyer and seller negotiate, my commission is guaranteed. So, I'm even more hopeful that you two can reach a deal."

"Alright, go ahead and ask," klein nodded.

Tony walked to the side to make a call, speaking in low tones for a few moments.

A moment later he returned with a smile on his face. "klein, Dr. Wang—oh, that's the owner—she's agreed to meet and chat with you.

And she happens to be nearby right now; she can be here in about ten minutes. How about... we go to the cafe next door, have a drink, and wait?"

"Sure."

The two entered a quiet cafe on the street corner. Just as they finished ordering their coffee, an Asian lady in her fifties or sixties, wearing a well-tailored suit and with her hair meticulously combed, pushed the door open and walked in.

Her gaze swept the room, and she walked straight toward their table.

Tony immediately stood up. "Dr. Wang, you're here. This is klein, who's interested in the house." He turned to klein. "klein, this is the owner, Ms. Wang Lin."

Ms. Wang nodded to klein, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment. She spoke in fluent Mandarin with a slight southern accent. "Chinese?"

klein replied in Chinese as well, "My father was. But I was born here; I haven't been to China yet."

Ms. Wang gave an "Mhm," her expression softening slightly as she got straight to the point. "The house—you like it?"

"I do," klein said bluntly. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have troubled you to make this trip."

"Good." Ms. Wang sat down opposite him as the waiter brought the black tea she had ordered.

She took a sip, set down the cup, and looked at klein.

"Since we're both Chinese, I won't beat around the bush. I'm in a hurry to return to China, and it's a waste to leave this house empty. But you've probably heard from Tonythat I've had this house listed for a while. Many people have asked about it, but they all got stuck on the price and this 'neither here nor there' layout."

"You don't look very old, but you speak and act quite straightforwardly. Tell you what, I'll consider this a favor to a fellow countryman and a way to build some good karma. One price: three and a half million.

But it must be a cash transaction, and the paperwork should be kept simple. If you think it works, we'll handle the title transfer as soon as possible; if not, that's fine too. I can just keep the house and rent it out; I'm in no rush."

Three and a half million. It was five hundred thousand lower than the listing price, but compared to similar properties on the market, it still wasn't cheap. However, it had reached an acceptable range.

klein tapped his fingers gently on his knee, his mind quickly reviewing his funds and the value of the house.

The location, the detached building, the brick-and-stone structure, the mixed commercial and residential use with enough space... especially that layout of a shop below and living quarters above. Three and a half million was a lot, but it was worth it.

He didn't hesitate for long. Looking up at Ms. Wang, he picked up his now lukewarm coffee and gestured toward her.

"Alright. That's the price. Deal!"

A hint of a smile appeared on Ms. Wang's face, and she raised her teacup to clink it against his.

"Straightforward. Tony," she turned to the agent, "I'll leave the subsequent procedures and contracts to you. Arrange them as soon as possible."

Tony grinned from ear to ear and repeatedly agreed, "Don't you worry! Dr. Wang, klein, I'll prepare the documents immediately and strive to finish the process in the shortest time possible!"

The rest was simple.

Under Tony's efficient arrangements, both parties signed a preliminary letter of intent, and klein paid a deposit.

They set a time for the formal signing and the title transfer.

By the time they walked out of the cafe, the setting sun had dyed the streets golden red.

klein looked at the small two-story building not far away that would soon be his, feeling a sense of peace.

He finally had a place to settle down.

The previous apartment could only be called a place to stay; this was his true home.

At the same time, he started thinking about what kind of business he could set up on the first floor.

On the way back, Tony heard that klein was thinking about buying a car.

"klein, I have a friend in the used car business whose vehicles are in pretty good condition. If you're interested, we could go and take a look."

klein looked at him. "You're a car broker too?"

"Earning money isn't something to be ashamed of," Tonyexplained. "In a place like New York, if you just rely on a fixed salary and real estate commissions, there's almost nothing left after paying rent. Knowing more people and having more options is never a bad thing."

"Alright! Let's go take a look then."

Tony happily drove his semi-old Toyota with klein inside, twisting and turning through the streets of Brooklyn, finally pulling into a small warehouse area surrounded by a chain-link fence and piled with many old car parts.

A faded sign hung at the warehouse entrance, with "Mike's Motor Home" written on it in crooked paint.

As soon as the car stopped, a man with messy hair, wearing oil-stained overalls, walked out of an open warehouse with a wrench in his hand.

Seeing Tony, he grinned, revealing a row of white teeth. "Hey! Tony! What wind blew you here? Here to bring me more business?"

"Of course, Mike. This is klein, my client. He wants to look at some cars." Tony got out, gave Mike a familiar fist bump, and then stepped aside to introduce klein.

Mike's gaze turned to klein. After looking him up and down, his smile became much warmer. "Welcome, welcome, klein. I'm Mike, the owner here. What kind of car are you looking for? A sedan? An SUV? Or..."

"A pickup truck," klein said directly. "Something that can carry cargo, handle rough roads, and is a bit more durable."

"A pickup? Then you've come to the right place!" Mike's eyes lit up. He tossed the wrench into a nearby toolbox and slapped the dust off his hands.

"Just got some good stock in a few days ago—ford f-150s. They're not too old and in good condition. Follow me."

He led the two of them to a relatively tidy shed in the back.

Three vehicles were parked under the shed, all half-covered with tarpaulins.

Mike walked over and whipped the tarpaulin off one of the vehicles.

A blue ford f-150 raptor appeared before them.

The body was a bit dusty, but the paint still reflected the light from the shed's ceiling.

"Look at this beauty," Mike said, patting the hood like he was caressing a lover. "A raptor from the year before last. The original owner was a farmer who didn't drive it long before his farm went bankrupt. The bank seized the truck, and it eventually made its way to me. Low mileage, and the maintenance records are complete."

klein stepped closer and began inspecting the vehicle, pretending to be an expert.

He didn't know the first thing about cars; he was just looking around and pretending he did.

However, while he was looking at the car, several nearly invisible Perception Threads, like the most precise probes, quietly seeped from his fingertips. They slipped into the gaps of the car body, the chassis, and the inside of the tires without a sound.

The subtle vibrations and sensations transmitted back by the threads allowed him to discover if the vehicle had been involved in major accidents like flooding, fire, or frame cutting.

Aside from some dust inside the engine compartment, the rest of the main components were tightly connected, with no obvious signs of oil leaks or abnormal disassembly and repair.

The wear on the suspension and brake discs was also within the normal range.

There were indeed some fine scratches and one or two inconspicuous spots of chipped paint on the surface, likely from minor bumps during daily use or transport, but as Mike said, the condition was excellent.

"Can I start it up and listen?" klein asked.

"Of course!" Mike nimbly pulled open the door, sat inside, and turned the key.

"Vroom—!"

A low engine roar sounded; it ran smoothly and powerfully without any noise.

klein listened carefully for a while and then signaled Mike to rev the engine a couple of times. The response was agile, and the exhaust note was normal.

"Let's look at the other two as well," klein said.

Mike then took him to see two other F-150s of the same model, one black and one silver.

klein inspected them using the same method.

The black one had a subtle scrape on the chassis, and the engine was leaking a bit of oil, so klein mentally crossed it off.

The silver one's overall condition was similar to the blue one, but the interior wear was slightly more obvious; the previous owner likely hadn't taken very good care of it.

In comparison, the first blue one had the best overall condition, and its exterior and interior were the most pleasing to the eye.

"What's the price for this blue one?" klein returned to the blue raptor and patted the solid door.

Mike rubbed his hands together and quoted a figure: "klein, you've seen the condition; it's practically a like-new car. I won't give you a crazy price—fifty-two thousand, including title transfer and a basic service. If you're serious, we can negotiate the price a bit."

Chapter 17: The House is Mine

Fifty-two thousand was a standard quote in the used car market for this model and condition; it wasn't a rip-off, but it wasn't a bargain either.

"Too expensive. Take another step back," klein said to Mike.

Mike considered it for a moment. "You were brought here by Tony, so I won't play games with you. I'll knock off another two thousand. Fifty thousand."

"Forty-six thousand," klein countered.

The smile on Mike's face stiffened for a moment before he immediately put on an exaggerated look of misery. "Forty-six thousand? klein, with this condition and this year, I wouldn't even make back my cost at forty-six thousand..."

After a bit of back-and-forth between klein and Mike, the deal was finally closed at forty-eight thousand dollars.

With the price settled, the rest was simple. klein took out the prepared cash from his backpack, counted out forty-eight thousand dollars, and handed it to Mike.

Mike verified the bills, briskly wrote a receipt, and had klein leave his driver's license information.

"klein, now that you've left me your license info, I'll handle the transfer procedures for you over the next few days. Do you want to drive the car away now, or come back to pick it up once the paperwork is sorted?" Mike asked.

"I'll wait until the paperwork is finished," klein said after a moment of thought. "I'm not in a rush these next few days. Roughly how long will you need?"

"If everything goes smoothly, about three days. Come back in three days, and I guarantee the car will be washed clean, the paperwork will be complete, and I'll even fill the tank for you," Mike promised, patting his chest.

"Fine. Three days then." klein nodded.

Tony started his semi-old Toyota and drove klein away from Mike's used car warehouse.

Leaning back in the passenger seat, klein counted out a thousand dollars and placed it on the dashboard.

Tony's eyes flickered toward the stack of money several times before he finally couldn't help himself and cleared his throat.

"klein... Mike will give me a commission since the deal went through. You don't need to give me extra money..."

Looking at the street scenery rushing past the window, klein said in a flat voice:

"If I give it to you, just take it. Put some heart into the house matter for me. Try to make it as fast as possible."

Tony's Adam's apple bobbed as he felt a surge of joy.

"klein, don't you worry. I'll handle the house matter perfectly and with the utmost speed. Rest assured."

"Mm," klein grunted in response, saying no more.

The cabin fell silent as Tony focused on driving, with only the hum of the engine remaining.

klein closed his eyes to rest, mentally calculating his next arrangements.

The house was secured, the car was settled; all that remained was to wait for the paperwork to finish, move in, and then figure out what kind of business to run on the first floor.

...

Three days later, klein arrived at Mike's used car warehouse as agreed.

The blue Ford F-150 Raptor had been washed until it looked brand new, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

The gas tank was full, and all the transfer documents and license plates were ready, placed neatly on the passenger seat.

Mike handed the keys to klein and enthusiastically gave a few pointers on things to watch out for with the vehicle.

klein thanked him and climbed into the driver's seat.

The feel of the leather seats, the wide field of vision, and the steady roar when the engine started all put him in a good mood.

This was the kind of car a man should drive.

He drove the new car around the streets of Brooklyn for a few laps to get used to it.

Just as he was wondering where to have lunch, his phone rang.

It was Tony calling.

"klein, good news!" Tony's voice was filled with excitement. "The transfer procedures are all finished. You can come to the Housing Management Center this afternoon to sign and get the keys! What time is convenient for you?"

klein raised an eyebrow.

Going from signing an intent to a formal transfer in three days, given that efficiency in America is barely faster than bowel movements, was practically a miracle.

It seemed that the extra thousand dollars given to Tonyhad indeed exerted the power of money.

Under normal procedures, dragging it out for a month would have been par for the course.

"Alright, I happen to be free today. Let's meet at the Housing Management Center at 2 PM."

After hanging up, klein's mood improved even further.

He found a decent-looking steakhouse nearby, finished lunch, and then drove his new car unhurriedly toward the meeting point.

2 PM, at the entrance of the Housing Management Center.

Tony and Ms. Wang were already waiting there.

"klein, you're here. Everything is ready, let's head in," Tony said, stepping forward to greet him.

The process went very smoothly. Through the "fast track" Tony had greased in advance, they signed, confirmed documents, and paid the relevant taxes.

Finally, inside his own car, klein handed the remaining payment for the house to Ms. Wang.

After carefully counting and verifying the amount, Ms. Wang handed the house keys to klein.

"The transaction is complete. From now on, that house is yours." She stood up with a relieved smile and extended her hand.

"Young man, I wish you all the best. I hope that house can be put to good use in your hands."

"Thank you. I also wish you a smooth journey back home," klein said as he shook her hand.

Ms. Wang nodded, said no more, picked up her handbag, and got out of the car to leave.

"klein, these are copies of all the documents. Please keep them safe." Tony handed a stack of materials to klein, his smile brighter than the sun.

With this deal completed, his commission was substantial. Furthermore, having met a straightforward client like klein, there might be more opportunities in the future.

"Good work," klein said as he took the documents and patted Tony on the shoulder.

"It was my pleasure, truly! If you need anything in the future, just call me anytime!" Tony said repeatedly.

After parting ways with Tony, klein couldn't wait to drive back to the small two-story building that now belonged to him.

Parking the pickup at the door, he took the keys and walked to the rolling shutter door.

Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock and gave it a forceful upward push!

Clatter!

The heavy silver rolling door rolled upward in response.

The afternoon sunlight poured in without obstruction, illuminating the entire spacious area of the first floor.

klein stepped inside, his footsteps echoing on the clean floor.

"Finally..." klein muttered to himself, an indescribable sense of security and belonging slowly rising from the bottom of his heart.

Since transmigrating, it was only at this moment that he truly felt he had a foothold of his own in this strange World.

A place he could call "home."

This feeling was fucking great!

He walked around the first floor a few times, all sorts of ideas flashing through his mind.

A restaurant? Too exhausting, and the competition was fierce.

A convenience store? Too tedious, and the money came in slowly.

...What would be a good business to run?

He stood in the center of the empty first floor for a long while without coming to a conclusion.

Forget it, no rush, I'll think about it slowly.

klein shook his head and walked up to the second floor.

The future living space also needed to be properly planned.

He spent some time in each room on the second floor, imagining where to put the bed, where to make a study, and where he could set up a small entertainment area...

Before he knew it, the sky outside began to dim, and the afterglow of the setting sun dyed the room a warm gold.

klein snapped out of his visions for the future, feeling a bit hungry.

"I'll go out and grab something to eat first, then come back tomorrow to slowly tidy up."

He went downstairs, preparing to lock the door and leave.

Just as he gripped the rolling door to pull it down, the voices of two passersby on the street drifted in with the evening breeze.

The voices were somewhat blurry, but the keywords drilled clearly into klein's ears.

Chapter 18: Deciding on a Business Project

"I haven't been sleeping well lately. I have nightmares every day and always feel like I'm being haunted by evil spirits. What do you think I should do?"

"Maybe go to a church and ask a priest for some holy water?"

"It doesn't work; I've already tried that."

"Then... try finding an exorcist? I heard there are some over in Manhattan..."

The conversation faded away with their footsteps, disappearing at the end of the street in the evening.

klein's hand, gripping the handle of the rolling shutter door, stopped mid-air.

He slowly turned around, his gaze sweeping over the empty first-floor space behind him whose purpose was yet to be decided. His expression shifted from contemplation to growing brightness, and the corners of his mouth involuntarily curled upward.

Exorcist?

Haunted by evil spirits?

Right! How could I have forgotten about this!

This job is practically tailor-made for klein.

In the land of America, it's not just filled with superheroes, mutated monsters, alien visitors, and even dimensional demon gods.

In the World of ordinary people, it is equally filled with fear, superstition, and a robust demand for supernatural forces.

Haunted houses, demonic possession, curses, malevolent entities causing trouble...

These gray areas that science struggles to fully explain are exactly the stage where occultism and various exorcists show off their skills.

Especially in a melting pot like America, with its diverse cultural backgrounds, various folklore, religious concepts, and occult systems mixed together, there is a wide base of believers.

Moreover, this profession has a high barrier to entry, handsome profits, and comes with its own mysterious aura, granting it a rather special social status.

It's not as physically and mentally exhausting as running a restaurant, nor as trivial and mundane as running a convenience store.

More importantly—

klein actually has superpowers!

He's no fraud. Once he brings out his Five Elements Talismans, wouldn't he be leagues ahead of those so-called 'mediums' and 'psychics' who rely on scripts and props to play ghost?

Furthermore, with his pure East Asian face, a little bit of dressing up, and some elements like Taoist robes, compasses, and talisman paper laid out...

That mysterious aura from the ancient East would definitely be much more attractive to many clients seeking exotic mystical powers to solve their problems than local priests, shamans, or mediums.

"Oriental Occultism," "Taoist Talismans," "Five Elements Secret Arts"... once these labels are attached, the prestige level would instantly max out.

Most importantly, in many cases, clients won't even proactively publicize the specific details due to face or fear, ensuring good privacy.

Besides, the money comes fast in this business!

Solving a single "supernatural incident," especially for those middle-class and above who have money and value their lives, can command fees of tens of thousands, over a hundred thousand, or even hundreds of thousands of dollars—that's the market price.

"Right! I'll open an exorcism agency! But the name has to be a bit sophisticated..."

klein's eyes grew brighter and brighter as various ideas popped into his head like firecrackers.

"'klein's Hall of Purity'? No, too blunt, not enough prestige...

'Five Elements Pavilion'? No, that's a bit too cryptic, and foreigners wouldn't understand it either..."

He stroked his chin and finally snapped his fingers.

"It'll be called the Paranormal Response Agency (Supernatural Response Agency)."

"It's straightforward and prestigious, and there's no need to worry about foreigners not understanding it."

With the name decided, the next steps were the renovation and positioning.

The storefront on the first floor facing the street shouldn't be too gloomy, nor should it look too much like an ordinary shop.

It needed to create an atmosphere that was "low-key, professional, and carried an ancient sense of mystery."

Dark wood doors and windows, soft and dim internal lighting, but with focused lighting on key display areas.

A simple screen or foyer at the entrance to prevent people from seeing everything at a glance and to maintain privacy.

On the walls, he could hang some decorative landscape paintings he painted himself, infused with subtle Five Elements Power—

Mainly to adjust the environmental energy field and increase credibility.

Then set up a row of display cabinets filled with various talismans, Dharma tools containing Five Elements Power, and various statues or exotic ornaments.

As for the scope of business... he'd figure that out later; if the money was good, he'd do it.

A single job could sustain him for three years!

He was going to ruthlessly squeeze these capitalists.

klein looked at the empty first floor.

He needed to find reliable renovators and oversee the design himself.

Tools—compass, peach wood sword, talisman paper, cinnabar, incense burner...

He also had to have a few sets of outfits custom-made, Taoist robes...

Business cards, simple brochures...

And hire a receptionist; klein couldn't do everything personally.

Things suddenly became clear, and he had a definite goal to strive for.

klein felt full of energy throughout his body.

He pulled down the rolling shutter door with force.

Clatter—!

The heavy metal door fell.

He turned and walked toward his pickup truck, an uncontrollable smile on his face.

klein sat in the driver's seat, started the engine, and returned to his apartment.

Early the next morning, klein gave Tony a call.

"Tony, didn't you say last time you knew some people in renovation? Introduce me to someone reliable and efficient."

Tony seemed to be eating on the other end, his voice muffled: "klein... renovation? Didn't you just get that house..."

"Cut the crap, I'm in a hurry. Can you make an introduction?"

"I can! I can!" Tony immediately gave a name and number. "This is Old Joe. He does solid work and his people are well-behaved, it's just... the price might be a bit higher than the market rate, but he guarantees it'll be fast and good."

"Price doesn't matter as long as it's fast and good." klein noted the number and snapped the phone shut.

Then he called the man named Old Joe.

The phone rang six or seven times before being picked up, and a gravelly male voice came through: "Who is it?..."

"Is this Boss Joe? Tony referred me. I have a building that needs urgent renovation. The requirements are a bit special, but money is no object. Can you come over this morning to take a look and give me a proposal?"

Hearing "money is no object," the voice on the other end became much warmer: "I can! Send me the address, I'll be there in an hour!"

An hour later, klein parked his car in front of his newly bought small building again.

Just as he got out of the car, a white Ford van screeched to a halt beside him.

A white man in work pants, stockily built, around fifty years old with graying hair, jumped out of the car, holding a tape measure and a notebook.

"klein? I'm Joe Miller, just call me Old Joe." Old Joeextended his hand, his grip strong.

"Boss Joe, thanks for making the trip." klein shook his hand and took out the keys to open the rolling shutter door.

"This is the place. I want to do business on the first floor and live on the second. Let's look at the first floor first."

Clang!

The rolling shutter door was fully raised, and the morning sun shone diagonally into the empty first floor.

klein led Old Joe inside and began to describe the vision in his head with gestures.

"First, the overall style should be... well, Oriental mysticism mixed with modern minimalism."

Old Joe quickly scribbled in his notebook, looking up at the spatial structure from time to time.

"Here at the entrance, I want a solid wood screen. It shouldn't be completely sealed, but have that kind of now-you-see-it-now-you-don't feel.

The floor... dark gray matte tiles. The walls should use a light beige eco-friendly paint with subtle texture.

Here, here, and in those corners, install spotlights or wall lamps..."

As he spoke, he walked to the positions where he envisioned the reception desk and display cabinets.

"Over here, build a whole wall of built-in display cabinets, wood, also dark-colored. The cabinets should have glass doors."

"Over there against the wall, place a long solid wood table to serve as a workbench. Next to it, there should be a small lounge area with two comfortable single-person sofas and a small coffee table."

"The most important thing is the atmosphere," klein emphasized. "I want people to feel... mysterious, a bit oppressive but also trustworthy as soon as they walk in. Do you understand what I mean?"

Old Joe stroked the stubble on his chin, his eyes scanning the empty room as if he were already constructing the image in his mind.

"Oriental mystery... low-key luxury... I think I get it. A bit like those high-end psychological counseling rooms or private art galleries, but the style should be... older?"

"Exactly! That's it!" klein slapped his thigh. "Boss Joe is a man who understands!"

"As for the materials..."

"Use the good stuff—eco-friendly and sturdy. Budget is not an issue, but I require the construction period to be fast and the quality to be high."

Old Joe nodded, scribbled a few more lines in his notebook, and then began to measure the specific dimensions, confirming details with klein from time to time.

After finishing the first floor, the two of them went up to the second floor.

Chapter 19: Procurement

Compared to the first floor, the renovation of the second floor was much simpler, just a standard residential refurbishment.

"No need for major structural changes on the second floor," klein said. "Tear down the old wallpaper, repaint, and sand and refinish the floors.

If the kitchen and bathroom fixtures are too old, replace them with new ones. Use mid-to-high-end mainstream brands. The overall style... minimalist modern, mainly comfortable and bright."

Old Joe took a tour of the second floor, measuring and recording, having a rough idea in his mind.

The two returned to the first floor.

Old Joe closed his notebook, tapped on his calculator for a while, then pondered for a moment before quoting a figure.

"klein, according to your requirements, especially for the downstairs part, the materials and labor costs aren't cheap.

And you want to speed up the progress... I happen to have a project that just finished, so I can move the workers and equipment over immediately. If we work overtime..."

He held up one finger: "One week, upstairs and downstairs, everything finished, including cleaning. But this price..."

klein didn't wait for him to give a specific number and interrupted directly: "How much?"balance

Old Joe quoted a figure nearly 40% higher than the market price, then added: "This includes all materials, labor, expedited fees, and my personal supervision throughout. If there are any minor issues after completion, there's a free one-year warranty."

klein hardly hesitated. He pulled out his wallet, counted out a stack of cash as a deposit, and slapped it into Old Joe's hand.

"Fine, that price works. One week, I want to see the results. Here's the deposit; the rest will be paid in full after inspection if it's up to standard. Here are the keys, I only care about the result."

Old Joe took the thick stack of cash, weighed it in his hand, and a smile appeared on his face: "klein is straightforward! Don't worry, in a week, I'll make sure you're satisfied!"

After handing over the keys, klein didn't stay long. He drove his raptor straight to several large home improvement and building material markets.

He had a long shopping list in his head.

First, he went to the largest home improvement supermarket.

Bedding, towels, bath mats;

Pots, pans, and basic seasonings needed for the kitchen;

And daily sundries like vacuum cleaners, trash cans, and laundry baskets.

Next, he turned to the tool section and bought a basic household tool set—hammer, screwdriver, pliers, and so on, just in case.

Soon, the back seat of the pickup was stuffed with items.

Then, klein drove and turned into Brooklyn's Chinatown.

Compared to Manhattan's Chinatown, this place was more lived-in, and the shops were more diverse.

He slowed down, his eyes scanning the array of signs on both sides of the street.

Finally, he stopped in front of a shop that looked quite old with an ancient storefront and a sign that read "Huang's Incense, Candles, and Paper Crafts."

The light inside the shop was dim, and the air was filled with a unique scent of mixed incense, candles, and some kind of old paper.

The shelves were piled high with all sorts of incense, candles, joss paper, paper effigies, deity statues, Bagua mirrors, peach wood swords, and so on—a dazzling array of mixed beliefs, focusing on having a bit of everything.

An elderly Chinese gentleman wearing reading glasses and with gray hair sat behind the counter, repairing a paper lantern by the light of a desk lamp.

Hearing the doorbell, he looked up, saw an Asian face enter, and spoke in Chinese.

"Young man, what are you buying?" The old gentleman's Mandarin had a heavy Cantonese accent.

"Boss, do you have any good quality yellow talisman paper? cinnabar? And brushes for drawing talismans?" klein got straight to the point.

The old gentleman pushed up his glasses, looked him over carefully, and said slowly: "I have yellow paper and cinnabar, but the good stuff isn't cheap. As for the brushes... it depends on what kind of talisman you're drawing and if your requirements are high."

"I want the good stuff," klein said firmly. "Give me a bit of each, let me see first."

The old gentleman turned around and took several boxes from deep within the back shelves.

He opened one of them to reveal neatly cut yellow talisman paper with a uniform texture, faintly carrying a grassy aroma; it was indeed much better than the mass-produced ones on the nearby shelves.

The cinnabar consisted of dark red small chunks, held in a small porcelain bowl, with a pure color.

The brushes were several wolf-hair brushes; the handles were ordinary bamboo, but the tips gathered very well.

"These will do. Give me... ten of each. More of the cinnabar," klein pointed.

"Also, do you have any ready-made, blank compasses here?

I also want a wooden sword. Not those flashy ones, I want solid old jujube wood that feels good in the hand. If you have lightning-struck jujube wood, that would be even better.

And a few better quality copper incense burners, and a few boxes of good incense sticks."

As the old gentleman listened, he found the items he wanted from various corners and piled them on the counter.

The jujube wood sword wasn't lightning-struck wood, but it was made of old wood. It felt heavy in the hand, with a clear wood grain, and was polished quite smoothly.

The compass was made of brass with a sensitive needle. Although the workmanship was slightly crude, it was enough for use.

The incense burner was made of red copper, small and exquisite.

"Young man, are you performing a ritual at home, or..." the old gentleman asked seemingly casually while calculating the bill.

"Opening a small shop, doing some related small business," klein responded vaguely, handing over the bills.

The old gentleman didn't ask further. He nimbly gave the change, carefully wrapped the items in old newspaper, and put them into a sturdy plastic bag.

"The items are all good stuff. Sincerity brings results."

"Thank you, boss."

Carrying this large bag of professional props out of the shop, klein went to the fabric store next door and bought several yards of dark green, navy blue, and mysterious black cotton-linen fabric.

He figured that Taoist robes didn't necessarily have to be in the traditional style. He wasn't a member of a Taoist sect anyway; it would be too embarrassing if someone from those circles actually came to his door.

Making a few gowns with these materials might be more suitable for his persona and more recognizable.

Finally, he walked into a Chinese-run stationery and gift shop and ordered a box of business cards.

The business card design was extremely simple: plain white cardstock with only two lines on the front—

Paranormal Response Agency

klein

On the back was a hand-drawn style, minimalist Bagua pattern, with a line of small text below: Private appointments only, serious inquiries only.

And a new, anonymous phone number he had just set up.

Procurement complete, the back of the pickup was already packed full.

klein sat in the driver's seat, buckled his seatbelt, and looked at the equipment in the rearview mirror, letting out a satisfied breath.

Everything was ready, just waiting for the renovation to be finished.

The "Supernatural Response Agency" was about to officially open for business in this land full of superheroes, demons, and ghosts.

He started the car, humming an out-of-tune little tune, and drove towards Empire State University.

Chapter 20: Aunt Mei

klein drove the pickup truck all the way from Brooklyn to the entrance of Empire State University, finding a temporary parking spot across the street.

He pulled out his phone, found Peter's number, and dialed it.

The phone rang a few times before being picked up; the background was a bit noisy, mixed with the laughter and footsteps of students.

"Hello, Peter, is school over?"

"Klein?" Peter's voice came through, sounding a bit out of breath as if he had just finished a walk. "I just finished class and was planning to head to the cafeteria. What's up?"

"Don't go to the cafeteria. Come to the main school gate. I'll treat you to a meal; I happen to have something to discuss with you." After saying this, klein added before Petercould ask further, "Hurry up, don't dawdle," and then simply hung up.

About seven or eight minutes later, Peter appeared at the school gate carrying his old backpack, looking a bit lost and glancing around, clearly looking for Klein.

klein grinned and honked the horn.

"Beep—!"

The short honk startled Peter. He looked toward the sound, his gaze landing on the tall and powerful blue Fordraptor across the street, its paint shimmering in the afternoon sun. His expression instantly shifted from confusion to shock.

He hesitantly crossed the street and approached the pickup truck. It wasn't until he saw klein in the driver's seat through the windshield that he confirmed it wasn't an illusion.

"Klein? This... is this your car?!" Peter opened the door and sat in the passenger seat, his eyes constantly scanning the interior and the spacious cabin.

Then he turned his head to look at the back seat and the truck bed, which were packed full of various bags and boxes.

"What are all these things? There's so much. Have you taken a part-time job as a truck driver?"

"I just bought it a few days ago. How is it? Cool, right?" klein patted the steering wheel proudly, then pointed to the back. "Those are all props for the shop I'm opening. Let's go eat; we'll talk while we eat."

He started the car and found a nearby Mexico restaurant.

The two went inside, found a booth by the window, and ordered the signature tacos, a barbecue platter, and two glasses of iced Coke.

While waiting for the food, Peter finally couldn't help but ask again, "Klein, you said on the phone you had something to discuss. What exactly is it? And you said opening a shop... what kind of shop?"

"I'm planning to open a shop," klein took a sip of iced Coke and sighed comfortably. "Specifically, a shop that deals with... well, special situations. You can think of it as handling mysterious events, supernatural phenomena, and the like..."

"A supernatural shop?!" Peter's eyes widened. He pushed up his glasses, an interested expression appearing on his face.

"You... you know about this? Exorcism? Catching ghosts? This... this is so cool! But," he then scratched his head with some difficulty, "I still have school, and I'm about to start an internship at Osborn soon, so I'm afraid I won't have time..."

"Who said I was looking for you?" klein interrupted him crossly, pointing at him with a fork. "Don't interrupt me; let me finish."

Peter quickly shut his mouth and assumed an air of serious listening.

"Don't you have an aunt? I heard she just does some odd jobs at home and doesn't have a steady gig. She's quite free, right?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, Aunt Mei... she's at home, occasionally taking on some miscellaneous sewing work."

"That's it, then." klein leaned forward and lowered his voice slightly. "My shop won't have too much going on.

Mainly, I just need someone to help look after the shop and do some cleaning.

If a customer actually comes in to inquire or buy something, they'd be responsible for receiving them and selling items at the marked prices.

The work isn't tiring, and the hours are flexible. I mainly need someone reliable and meticulous."

He paused and looked at Peter. "I think your aunt would be quite suitable. She's an acquaintance, so I'd feel at ease.

I'll pay a salary, settled weekly. It'll definitely be more than what she makes from odd jobs now, and it'll be stable. What do you think? Go back and discuss it with your aunt?"

After hearing this, Peter froze for a few seconds, then a look of serious contemplation appeared on his face.

He knew Klein. Although he sometimes acted impulsively, he was genuinely good to his friends and family.

This was indeed a good opportunity. The work was easy, and it would give Aunt Mei something to do while earning extra income.

"Klein, thank you for thinking of Aunt Mei," Peter said sincerely. "This sounds like a good thing. However, I have to go back and discuss it properly with Aunt Mei to hear her thoughts. After all..."

"I get it, I get it. Respect the elders' opinions." klein waved his hand just as the waiter brought their food, the rich aroma wafting toward them.

"No rush. My shop is still being renovated; it'll take over a week to finish. You guys take your time to discuss it, and just let me know once you've decided."

The two began to tackle the delicacies in front of them.

After finishing the meal, klein drove Peter back to the school gate.

Before Peter got out, klein leaned out and called to him, "Oh, right. Today, tomorrow, the day after, maybe even the day after that... keep helping me ask for leave. Just tell the Professor that a pipe burst at my house and I'm in the middle of emergency repairs, so I really can't make it."

Hearing this, Peter looked helpless. "Klein! Why are you asking for leave again? Your attendance rate this semester is almost at the bottom!"

"Aren't I busy with my career?!" klein said righteously. "There are a thousand things to do in the early stages of opening a shop. How would I have time for class? Alright, alright, stop nagging and get out. Remember to help me ask for leave!"

With that, he didn't wait for Peter to protest further. He waved his hand and stepped on the gas. The raptor let out a low growl, made a sharp U-turn, and quickly disappeared around the street corner.

Leaving only Peter standing at the school gate, watching the direction the car had gone. He shook his head, but an involuntary, helpless smile curled the corners of his mouth.

He shouldered his backpack and turned to walk into the campus, already wondering how to bring this up with Aunt Mei in the evening.

After school in the afternoon, Peter walked home while repeatedly weighing Klein's proposal from lunch in his mind.

Setting aside the inscrutable style of this soon-to-open shop.

Being able to give Aunt Mei a stable, easy job that wasn't too far from home (klein had told Peter the general location of the shop) was definitely a good thing.

To raise him, the odd jobs Aunt Mei had taken over the years were both hard and unstable. Peter had always felt very guilty about it.

"Peter, you're back? Did you have many classes today?"

"Yeah, I'm back, Aunt Mei." Peter put down his backpack, hesitated for a moment, walked to the kitchen door, and looked at Aunt Mei's busy back. "Aunt Mei, there's something... I want to discuss with you."

"Oh? What is it?" Aunt Mei turned down the heat, wiped her hands, turned around, and looked curiously at Peter's somewhat solemn expression.

Peter took a deep breath and recounted Klein's proposal exactly as it was—

Klein had bought a house to open a shop and needed someone to look after it. The work was light, the hours were flexible, and there was a salary. He thought Aunt Mei was very suitable.

Aunt Mei listened quietly, her expression shifting from surprise to contemplation, and finally becoming somewhat complex.

Aunt Mei was a bit hesitant. "But Peter, I... I've never done that kind of work. And besides, that kind of shop... would there be any danger?"

"Klein said there's no danger. It's just cleaning up normally, selling things at the marked price if customers come, or helping to register appointments," Peter quickly explained.

"Klein is my best friend; he definitely wouldn't hurt you. Besides, he said the salary is more than what you get from odd jobs now, and it's stable. You won't have to be cooped up at home all the time..."

Looking at Peter's urgent and sincere eyes, Aunt Mei's heart softened.

She knew Peter had always wanted to share her burdens, and this job did indeed sound quite good.

"What about the address? Is it far?" Aunt Mei asked.

"Klein said it's in Brooklyn, near Chinatown. He didn't give the specific address. It shouldn't be too far; it's reachable by subway." Seeing Aunt Mei's attitude soften, Peter felt a surge of joy.

Aunt Mei thought for a while longer and finally nodded. "Alright, Peter. Since both you and Klein think it's suitable... then I'll give it a try. However, I have to meet with Kleinfirst to chat in detail and see what that shop is actually like."

"That's great, Aunt Mei!" Peter was so happy he almost jumped up. "I'll call Klein right now!"