After leaving Mr. Fox, Lynch wandered around the streets. Once the deal was settled, he'd soon receive his first payment, and the amount would be directly related to what he had invested.
The more he invested, the higher the profit would be. Even top-tier consortiums would be envious of this kind of business.
During this period, he had been reading newspapers, even as the whole world was striving for development and construction, boosting the financial economy, some foundations promised annual return rates that never exceeded fifteen percent.
This year's first quarter "Trade Report" disclosed some detailed data from last year, revealing that the foundation with the highest actual return rate had a yearly return of only 9.74, not even reaching ten percent, yet it became the most profitable foundation of last year.
So, this deal was very important, but at the same time, it raised a new problem. He needed some "capital" to exchange for those loose change and coins.
Mr. Fox did not mention this money. Knowing Lynch's background, he surely knew that Lynch had less than a hundred bucks on him and in his bank account, not to mention his promise to quickly help Mr. Fox complete the "transition."
He must find some money again, not too much, a few hundred or a thousand would be enough, because once this thing starts moving, it will only speed up. He planned to talk to Catherine about this when he returned tonight.
Even though he felt that doing this was somewhat... for the future, there was no other way.
Time slipped away bit by bit as Lynch wandered around. Today, Lynch returned home early, at six-thirty in the evening. Catherine came back from outside carrying a bag.
Inside were scraps of meat and some not-so-fresh-looking vegetables that today's supermarket discarded. These items were typically shared among employees, as their purpose of enduring oppression and exploitation here was to obtain them for free.
Upon returning to the apartment, Catherine was somewhat surprised. Lynch had been coming home late for quite a while. This was the first time lately he returned home so early.
Initially, she hoped Lynch would honestly look for a job, preferably at a factory.
Although factory work was very hard and somewhat dangerous, the workers' benefits and social security were undoubtedly the best.
Those big business owners not only needed to take care of their workers in various aspects, but they could also join organizations like the Union. Catherine, who worked at the supermarket, couldn't join because she's not a worker.
Moreover, there was no "Cashier Union" or similar unofficial organization.
Nightmares always linger; good dreams are easy to wake up from.
For a week, Lynch, seemingly revitalized, found himself back at square one, only with a different tactic. He was no longer staying at home, rather he was going out under the pretense of job-hunting.
Whenever Catherine thought of this, she became disheartened. She felt that her past choices were not just stupid; her eyes were blind.
Because of these experiences, she realized how right her mother had been — looks are useless; life requires a foundation, not appearance.
She glanced up at Lynch, then changed her shoes and entered the kitchen with the bag, starting to wash the meat scraps.
The scraps were trimmed from the bone racks, irregular in shape, mostly the size of fingertips and in little clumps. For some reason, they seemed darker than the neatly packed beef.
Despite their low price, they were hard to sell. Most people bought them not for themselves but to feed dogs.
Actually, there was nothing wrong with the scraps.
The room was filled with a kind of uncomfortable silence, something that continued to spread and surge.
Lynch sat on a sofa they picked up from the trash heap, watching his girlfriend silently handling food, clearly less than ten meters apart, yet there seemed to be an abyss between them.
"Do you... have any extra money?", Lynch asked.
Catherine's hand paused slightly. She didn't turn around or say anything, then continued her work after a brief pause, "A little, less than five hundred bucks, saved up this year."
Saving was not easy, especially for these young folks with only a high school education.
Rent, electricity, water, heating, the necessary expenses and wear and tear, plus only one of them working, saving over four hundred bucks was already very difficult.
Suddenly, the atmosphere became even heavier, pressing on their chests.
Neither spoke again until Catherine finished dinner.
Consistently the usual scraps mixed with fried eggs, some shabby vegetables, and a few broken noodles a couple of centimeters wide.
These were items the supermarket needed to discard daily, now feeding many poor families.
"Today, my mom came to see me...", during dinner, Catherine broke the silence, "She doesn't want us to continue like this, but I couldn't convince her..."
Lynch put down his knife and fork, seeing her plate sprinkled with fresh "seasoning," clear, somewhat bitter, and mildly salty.
Catherine had already made it very clear; she couldn't convince her mother, meaning one of them must convince the other and it only could be her.
The food on the plate was already unappetizing, now even worse. Lynch sighed, "When are you leaving?"
Catherine was almost ready to break down, "Tomorrow, my mom and brother will come to pick me up. I'm sorry, I don't want this, but..."
"It's alright, you don't have to apologize. It's me who should apologize!", Lynch reached out to touch her tear-stained face, needing to pay for what he'd done.
Over two years, all life burdens weighed on this twenty-year-old girl.
Undoubtedly Lynch was a scoundrel, a real scumbag.
This life gradually wore out her fantasies about romance and the future. She experienced these, starting to bow to reality and fate, even if deep inside she clung to a sliver of fantasy.
For instance...
There was no "for instance," Lynch wouldn't ask her to stay, whether she first said she wanted to leave or in uncertain but undoubtedly uneasy and dangerous life ahead, wasn't suitable for the girl.
Though it seemed cruel, reality was reality.
After an unforgettable night, Catherine left the next morning with her belongings but left some things for Lynch.
A passbook and apartment keys.
Thanks to the banks not caring much about who deposits or withdraws from the passbook, it might be Catherine's testament to saying goodbye to her past.
After tidying up, Lynch withdrew all the money from the passbook in the morning, four hundred forty-nine dollars and thirty-five cents.
Then he found the landlord, chatted for about half an hour, and got a hundred dollars back for half a month's rent—originally seventy-five but Lynch didn't want his things anymore.
The landlord felt the deal wasn't too bad, finally agreeing to give twenty-five more.
He kept the loose change for initial days' living expenses, while the rest entered his plan. He was eager, desperate to teach this simple world a lesson.
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