Chapter 16 : Favors and Debts
The phone buzzed at 7:43 AM, pulling me out of the first decent sleep I'd had in days. Derek Huang's name glowed on the screen—unusual, since our last contact had been weeks ago when I'd cleaned his network.
"Derek?"
"Marcus, I'm sorry to call so early." His voice was tight, controlled in the way people get when they're trying not to panic. "I need your help. The computer stuff—you're good at that, right? Like, really good?"
I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. "What's wrong?"
"It's... I think Raymond's stealing from me. My partner. I've thought it for a while, but now—" He broke off. In the background, I could hear a woman's voice, soft and worried. "Can you come over? Today, if possible. I'll pay whatever you want."
The embezzlement I'd discovered during my original visit. The evidence I'd filed away for potential future use. Derek had finally noticed something was wrong—and he was reaching out to the one person who already knew the answer.
"I'll be there by ten."
Derek and Lisa Huang lived in a modest house in Bay Ridge, the kind of place that screamed "worked hard for this" in every carefully maintained detail. The lawn was trimmed. The car in the driveway was ten years old but spotless. The American dream, achieved through years of effort that someone was now stealing from them.
Lisa opened the door before I could knock. She was small, anxious, with the kind of face that showed every emotion without filter. "Thank you for coming. Derek's in the office—he hasn't slept properly in days."
"I'll see what I can find."
The home office was cramped, dominated by a desk covered in printed spreadsheets and bank statements. Derek looked worse than his wife had suggested—dark circles, rumpled clothes, the thousand-yard stare of someone whose trust had been violated.
"I noticed discrepancies three months ago," he said without preamble. "Small things. Invoices that didn't match what I remembered approving. Payments to vendors I'd never heard of. I thought I was going crazy."
"You're not crazy." I sat down at his computer, already knowing what I'd find. "Show me your accounting system."
The next four hours were a performance—me pretending to discover things I already knew, building a case that could be presented as thorough analysis rather than prior knowledge. GHOST helped, flagging patterns and suggesting search parameters that made the investigation look methodical and professional.
Raymond Chen had been stealing from his partner for eighteen months. The method was elegant: shell companies with legitimate-sounding names, invoices for services never rendered, payments routed through accounts that eventually led back to Raymond's personal finances. A patient, methodical theft that had extracted approximately $47,000 from a business that couldn't afford to lose it.
"He's been doing this since before I even noticed," Derek said when I showed him the summary. His voice was hollow. "We started this company together. I trusted him."
"The evidence is solid." I handed him a flash drive containing everything—transaction records, shell company registrations, the paper trail that proved the theft. "This is all legally obtained. You can take it to a lawyer, or the police, or both."
[+35 SP — Complex investigation completed. Social capital acquired.]
"How much do I owe you?" Derek was already reaching for his checkbook.
"The original rate we agreed on. Two hundred."
"That's not—" He shook his head. "This is worth way more than that. You just saved my business. Maybe my marriage, the way Lisa's been worrying."
"Two hundred," I repeated. "And maybe a favor someday, if I need one."
Derek studied me for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. "You're not like other IT guys I've worked with."
"I just don't like watching people get cheated."
It was true, as far as it went. The system rewarded helping people, sure—but that wasn't why the work felt satisfying. Some things were worth doing regardless of the rewards.
Lisa Huang insisted I stay for dinner. The invitation came with such earnest sincerity that refusing would have felt cruel, so I found myself seated at their kitchen table while she bustled around preparing food.
"Derek said you wouldn't take more money." She set down a plate of dumplings, handmade, still steaming from the pan. "That's unusual. Most people would have asked for a bonus."
"Most people aren't eating homemade dumplings right now."
She laughed—the first genuine joy I'd seen in either of them all day. "Eat more. You're too thin."
The dumplings were perfect. Crispy on the bottom, tender on top, filled with pork and ginger and something I couldn't identify that made every bite better than the last. I ate three helpings while Derek and Lisa slowly relaxed, the tension of the investigation giving way to something like relief.
"First home-cooked meal since I got here."
The thought came unbidden, carrying weight I hadn't expected. Forty-something days in this world, and I'd been living on takeout and instant coffee and the occasional diner meal. This—sitting at a family table, eating food prepared with care, being welcomed like a guest instead of a service provider—this was what normal people did.
This was what I'd missed even in my old life, too busy climbing career ladders to build the kind of connections that mattered.
"Thank you," I said, meaning more than the food.
Lisa smiled. "You helped us. This is the least we can do."
The walk home took longer than necessary. I let myself meander through Bay Ridge's quiet streets, thinking about the Huangs' faces when I'd given them the evidence they needed. About Lisa's insistence that I eat more. About the favor Derek had agreed to owe, planted like a seed for some future harvest.
"Helping people feels good."
[Social Engineering +5 XP — Genuine connection established]
The system notification was almost an afterthought. The real reward was something the numbers couldn't measure.
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