After a few days of settling, hatred did not easily leave the depths of Lynch's heart; instead, it festered with time, becoming even more intense.
Every time he got drunk, he would think of the humiliation, the injury, and the control Michael had inflicted on him that night.
All he wanted was, like most normal people, a soulmate. He had done nothing wrong; the girl herself hadn't objected, but then Michael suddenly appeared.
He kicked Lynch and stepped on his most treasured possession, all while refusing to give him clothes, and all of it happened in front of his foster daughter.
Later, his foster daughter disappeared somewhere, and he finally left a bunch of leverage in Michael's hands. Thinking of every time Michael hit or scolded him, even taking his money, filled him with hatred.
Especially this time, losing a few thousand dollars made him feel humiliated again, and it had already begun to affect his control over those kids.
Now, all the children in the small building knew someone named Michael had taken Lynch's money; he was being roasted over a fire and even some older kids started looking at him differently.
He began losing control of these children, especially last night when, drunk, he tried to vent his emotions by beating the kids. Two of the older ones snatched his whip and pushed him out the door.
The increasingly out-of-control environment frightened him more. Everything he had was built on absolute control over these kids. If he didn't change something, he would soon become one of those failures he despised, just dust in the historical garbage heap.
"Can it make a sound?" Lynch asked the man hiding in the shadows who was counting cash and did not respond to Lynch's question.
After a while, after finishing counting a roll, he nodded, "There's no problem, I've tried it, you can also try it, there are four bullets inside, if you want more..." He pulled out a handful from his pocket, "Two bucks a piece."
Lynch's face twitched, and he silently stuffed the gun into his pocket. This gun, modified from a starting pistol, had no serial number, making it hard to trace back if anything happened.
Many underground arms dealers loved such a weapon; at least, it ensured they wouldn't be involved in any case.
"It's fine, the money is no issue, anything else?" asked the young man in the shadows. Lynch shook his head; after exchanging greetings, he quickly disappeared down the alley.
The sky grew darker, and for the first time, Lynch, with the gun in his pocket, felt something called "power," different from the power he knew before.
Previously, his power stemmed from the physical differences between adults and children; he was stronger, more powerful, so he could control the kids.
But now, this power he held allowed him to take away lives at will, this new level of control over others' lives made him feel like the Lord.
Anyone who made him uncomfortable could have their ugly life ended with a pull of the trigger, and this arbitrary sense of plunder excited him.
Carrying the ham slices and free dinner rolls he'd picked up from the deli—the deli was competing for business, offering a small bag with four fist-sized whole-grain dinner rolls as a bonus whenever a customer purchased enough specific meats.
This business model was slowly spreading from big cities to small towns. People might not realize it, but those specializing in finance and economics had already spotted the problem.
Slowing economic growth heightened social competitiveness, making it fiercer and more brutal. Economic development at the national level was also slowing down, presenting issues yet seemingly reasonable phenomena.
Eating savory ham slices with the rolls and cheap liquor, Lynch successfully got himself dizzy again, while an unknown impulse began to invade his mind.
He recalled events of the previous night in the dormitory when those kids he ordered around like dogs threw him out. With a sinister smile, carrying a whip and bottle, he stumbled into the dormitory.
A few minutes later, a gunshot rang out, not too sharp, silencing the chaos of the dormitory, followed by the sound of a whip hitting flesh.
Yet this time, unlike in the past, nobody cried, everyone gritted their teeth, and this twisted Lynch's desire further.
No crying?
Beat you till you cry!
The night passed without a word.
After a day of adjusting, Vera had mastered the specifics of her work. She greeted Lynch after he completed a deal and left, as he had other matters to attend to.
Such as hiring a lawyer to register some patents, finding a factory to produce his coin sorter, and contemplating the strange actions of Lynch that Vera noticed while dining with her last night, all piqued his curiosity, wondering if Lynch was planning something, he had to finish his tasks quickly, like placing his ring in Michael's room.
There were many things to do, all needing to be done step by step.
Near noon, Lynch went to a fairly average law firm in Sabin City, neither the most famous nor the one with the highest defense success rate, as he just needed to register patents without those references.
The reason for choosing this firm was primarily its affordability.
If a professional accountant could make you distressed once a month, a lawyer could keep you distressed for a month or even longer.
The consultation fees were only a portion of the overall cost, starting the moment they left the office, including travel expenses; if they carried a briefcase, there would be material costs too.
Not to mention the potential extra costs like thirst or hunger, all unavoidable expenses, so Lynch just needed an ordinary lawyer.
"Hello..." As Lynch entered, the lawyer politely invited him to sit and pressed a button on a dual-faced desk clock, which immediately started counting time.
It was then the lawyer spoke, "If the secretary wasn't lazy, she would've told you, our conversations cost twenty-five dollars an hour, leased at an hourly rate, correct?"
Lynch nodded, and the lawyer's smile broadened, "So, what can I help you with?"
"I want to register a patent."
"Register a patent?" The lawyer was taken aback, reassessing Lynch, given his age, he figured Lynch should be talking about potentially criminal actions, like assaults, injuries, or theft, not patents, so he confirmed again.
After Lynch nodded again, the lawyer began his work, "Alright, truthfully, our firm doesn't have a patent lawyer, but we can still do it..."
Before he finished, Lynch stood up, prompting the lawyer to do the same, vigorously trying to secure the deal, "We can offer you a discount. Believe me, registering a patent doesn't require specialized knowledge!"
Because of different local laws in each state and district, a legal document that passed in one state might not get approved by the Ministry of Justice in another.
No lawyer dared to claim omnipotence; they often specialize in certain areas, like criminal lawyers focusing solely on criminal cases and punishment standards in various states.
Similarly, there are lawyers specializing in marriage and divorce, economic lawyers for wealth disputes, and those dedicated to patent issues.
Patent lawyers mainly work not on registration but on more effectively helping employers build patent walls, solve tech monopoly problems, and handle infringement cases.
But sometimes people are like that, insistent on certain beliefs; they could choose either slippers or leather shoes before stepping out but would certainly opt for leather shoes, even though both serve the same essential purpose.
Aiming to attract every client and generate profits for the firm is also every lawyer's job.
[Vote, Recommendation Ticket]
[I've already mentioned it, just been lazy in sending the contract]