Legal Identity

In truth, Henry had not waited long before Tom's conversation with the guests quickly came to an end.

Or perhaps they had already been talking for quite some time before that; Henry did not know. By the time he entered, Tom's discussion with the guests was nearly over.

As a result, Henry's Super Hearing, which had come online late, only caught one of them telling Tom something along the lines of, "Find the target as soon as possible."

Actually, if Henry wanted to search through the noise memories in his Super Brain and reconstruct the conversation between Tom and the guests that he had previously ignored, it was not impossible.

But he was not that curious. Though gossip was human nature, it was only interesting when it involved sex, scandal, or bloodshed. What was so entertaining about eavesdropping on someone else's business negotiations? It was not as if he planned to become a corporate spy.

The conversation inside ended, and the two guests did not linger. They came straight out, ready to leave.

Henry neither pretended to be completely absorbed in his magazine nor stared at them after they emerged.

He merely looked up briefly at the sound, as any normal person would, then immediately returned his gaze to the magazine.

The two men, on the other hand, wore sour expressions as if the whole world owed them money. As they passed Henry, they even deliberately stared at him for a moment, trying to connect his face with their target.

Although Henry did not look up at them, he was acutely aware of such movements through his senses.

Especially one of the men's eyes—like a bird's nictitating membrane, it opened and closed vertically once. That gave him quite a fright, though nothing showed on his face.

Another Mutant. What the hell was wrong with this world...

After the two unfamiliar guests walked out the door, Tom's voice rang out at just the right moment. "Hey, Henry, you finally fucking showed up. Get into my office."

Putting the magazine back in its place, Henry entered Tom's office. Tom was clearing away the wineglasses left by the previous guests, then handed Henry a cup of hot coffee and gestured for him to sit.

Without caring whether the chair still retained the warmth of the previous guest, Henry plopped down.

His carelessness in such little matters was because few people truly noticed those details. Henry only noticed because of habits carried over from his previous life before transmigrating.

A homebody tended to be somewhat obsessive about his private space. Of course, he also restrained himself from trampling on others' boundaries. That was why he noticed such trivial things.

Once Henry was seated, Tom took a large manila envelope from a drawer and pushed it in front of him. "All the documents are in there. Check them over. If there are any problems, just ask."

Henry poured everything out of the envelope.

Other than the passport, which looked more or less the same around the world apart from the cover color—and matched the ones he had seen before transmigrating, allowing him to recognize it—

Everything else was stuff whose words he could read but whose purpose he had no idea about.

Seeing Henry's baffled expression, Tom politely pointed out the documents and began explaining.

He sorted the items one by one and said, "You seem to recognize the passport. This is your Social Security card and the related documents. You're a United States citizen, and this is your birth certificate.

"Having these means you've got a pile of taxes to pay. Consult an accountant for the details; he'll tell you how much you owe. Think of it as protection money for the U.S. government to maintain your legal identity.

"So don't spend all your money. Being unable to pay taxes is worse than breaking the law. The IRS is more troublesome than the FBI. They won't beat you to death, but they might squeeze you dry and sell the juice to pay your taxes.

"And here are your work permit and supporting documents. Since you might have cashed your checks directly before, I took it upon myself to find Old George and get you a proof-of-income statement.

"In the future, you'd better make a copy before cashing a check, for tax filing purposes. Here's your driver's license, along with the vehicle transfer documents. I got you the license plates too, so there's no need to change them.

"These are all legitimate documents. Even if the FBI investigates, there won't be a problem. So if you want to do something bad, don't tarnish this identity. Some of the things in there weren't easy to arrange."

Henry hesitated slightly. "It was really that simple?"

"This is Alaska. Besides here, it's somewhat easier to arrange this sort of thing in overseas territories like Hawaii and Saipan Island. But Hawaii is a tourist destination, with too many eyes watching. This godforsaken place where birds don't even lay eggs is where nobody wants to come verify anything."

Tom explained, "To maintain these enclaves that aren't connected to the mainland, the government has certain preferential policies. And in practice, things aren't as rigorous as they are on the mainland.

"But when I say you needn't fear an FBI investigation, I mean these documents are legitimate. If they insist on digging for flaws, they'll find plenty. So never get yourself into that sort of situation. You understand what I mean?"

"Understood." Henry put away the IDs and documents while confirming what each was for.

After Henry packed everything away, Tom shifted into small-talk mode. "Are you planning to take that whole bag onto George's boat?

"If you feed it to the king crab, I won't be able to replace it for you. Even if you want to start over, your information is already in the records. It'll be troublesome, you know."

Henry set down the manila envelope, took a sip of coffee, and said, "I met George this morning. He said Annie 21 won't return to port for another two days. There's no work today. With him looking after me, I don't want to look for work on anyone else's boat."

Tom agreed. "That's right. Following the right person is more important than earning more money. It's just that young people these days don't really agree with that."

"Ha. In the end, it's all about making money. If this so-called 'right person' only wanted to use talk of loyalty and a promising future to trick people into working for nothing, would you still be willing?"

"That wouldn't work either. Just as you said, in the end, it's all about making this damned money." Tom changed the subject. "If you've got nothing to do today, do you want to take a job? Make some extra cash."

"What job?"

"Help me confirm something at a certain place. You only need to take a look. It's not far, and you can make a round trip today."

"Hmm, does it have anything to do with the two people who left before me?"

"Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't." Tom's reply was exceedingly ambiguous.

"Then forget it. I've got a feeling that getting involved with them will bring trouble."

Tom did not try to persuade him further. Raising both hands, he said, "Fine. You're free to choose."

Henry said casually, "I didn't expect you to moonlight as an intelligence dealer."

"In this backwater, if you can't make it onto a crab boat, you can only find ways to earn more if you want to make a living. If I didn't get seasick, forget being a professional crab fisherman—I should've become a captain by now."

"Buy a boat, then. Have someone you trust run it," Henry suggested.

Tom merely laughed. "The waters run deep. You don't understand."