Is it worth it?

"It was the young man who rented this house who died. I've seen him, he was very handsome!"

A maid answered Lynch's question, but the content left Lynch feeling a bit numb.

Who was the young man who rented this house?

It was him!

He died?

Well, the original owner did indeed die, but how would anyone else know that?

After all, his transmigration had been silent and unnoticed; who would know he had passed away?

"Make way, make way, I'm the one who rents this place, I've returned from the dead!"

Lynch shouted loudly, and the crowd in front immediately cleared a path for him.

The crowd, which had been packed so tightly just a moment ago, suddenly became courteous, leaving a large empty space around him.

"Oh my, little Lynch, you're not dead!"

The landlady hurried over to greet him, her tone intimate and filled with relief.

"I'm not dead! But I came back to hear people saying I was, so I just wanted to ask what's going on?"

Lynch glanced with dissatisfaction at the man standing next to the landlady. He had just seen this guy arguing with her, trying to get into his house, only to be blocked by the landlady.

"It's all his fault. He claimed to be your coworker and said you were dead, wanting to take your things. I wouldn't let him, so he started shouting that I was trying to seize your property. Everyone knows how much you eat and that you smoke; you don't have any money. Even your underwear inside is torn."

Lynch: ...

Enough, could you please not bring that up.

He wanted to save face, too. The smugness he felt after walking out of the crowd vanished, leaving only a face full of helplessness.

"Ahem, who are you? What do you mean? Why were you trying to enter my house? Why did you say I was dead?"

Lynch didn't dare continue talking to the landlady, fearing she would spill more details, so he quickly turned to the man beside her.

He didn't recognize this guy, and even if he had died, it wouldn't be this guy's turn to collect his inheritance, would it?

Where did this guy get the nerve to stand here so righteously?

"Who exactly are you?"

Lynch's expression turned cold as he raised his voice.

The man opened his mouth, then suddenly lunged at Lynch.

Lynch dodged quickly, only to watch the man sprint away from the scene.

What was that about?

Running away just because he was exposed?

Was he one of those local thugs?

In Lynch's memories, those scoundrels had indeed pulled stunts like this—suspecting someone was dead, they would rush to the person's home to scavenge their belongings and sell them off for gambling and drinking money.

However, they mostly did this to people who were truly dead; otherwise, if someone reported them, the police wouldn't just sit idly by.

But he didn't even have a corpse, so how could the guy be so sure he was dead?

Lynch's mind raced. He thought back to the day he transmigrated, when the original owner was shot. Was it that shot that made the guy think he was dead?

Did the guy see that happen?

Or was this guy the one who pulled the trigger?

"Lynch, should we call the police?"

The landlady walked over, looking in the direction the man had fled, and asked hesitantly.

She certainly didn't want to call the police; she didn't want to get involved in these matters, nor did she want those thugs coming back for revenge.

"No!"

Lynch refused directly.

Regardless of whether the guy was the shooter or just someone who saw him get shot, he couldn't involve the police for the time being. If people found out he had been shot and survived, it would definitely raise suspicions.

In any case, he had memorized the man's appearance. He would ask around later to see if anyone recognized him.

Having witnessed someone who should have been dead come back to life, the guy probably wouldn't dare tell anyone else for a while.

He still had time to prepare.

"No police. I don't want to bring you any trouble. You've been very good to me, landlady. If you tell me who that guy is, I'm willing to move out without asking for my deposit back."

Lynch whispered into the landlady's ear.

He had provoked a thug, and the landlady surely wouldn't want him living here anymore anyway. It was a perfect match, and he might even get the guy's real identity out of it.

"Oh, you good child, you don't actually have to move. Upton probably won't come back."

The landlady looked at Lynch, touched, and indicated that he could continue to stay.

Lynch naturally refused.

He said a lot more, making the landlady feel that him moving out was the best choice, one that would also spare her from harassment; for this, she even kindly told Lynch that he only needed to move out and didn't even have to clean the room.

She was worried that if Lynch didn't run fast enough, it would be truly troublesome to provoke those thugs.

Although one could call the police, those people would definitely come back to harass them afterward.

Lynch was grateful for the landlady's righteousness for two seconds.

However, when she rented the room to another bachelor on the spot and even lowered the price for his first month, that sense of being moved dissipated quite a bit.

Wasn't this lady's execution a bit too efficient?

Lynch currently only had the right to use this room during the day; regardless of whether he had finished packing his things by nightfall, he had to get out of this room, because it now belonged to someone else.

Seeing the other party's urging gaze, Lynch hurried back to his room to pack his belongings.

There really wasn't much; after Lynch took the suits and underwear from the closet, along with the bedding on the bed, there was almost nothing left.

However, he didn't leave immediately, but instead began to search the room.

Honestly, he had guessed that the person from earlier was a thug, which led to the idea that the other party was there to steal his things to sell, but what if that wasn't the case?

What if the other party had hidden something here before and was now trying to come in to retrieve it?

He had already entered this room, so he had to figure out the reason, otherwise, he wouldn't even know how he died.

Lynch first looked behind the closet, then pushed the bed aside; there was nothing underneath but trash.

His gaze swept across the room, looking for any other places where things could be hidden.

Nothing, there was nothing.

There was only a desk, and the desk had no drawer; one could see at a glance that it was completely empty on top.

So...

Lynch leaned down to check the underside of the desk.

Sure enough, there was something.

It was a piece of paper, stuck to the bottom of the desk.

He carefully tore the paper off and held it before his eyes.

Then, his entire body froze.

There were only a few lines of words on the paper.

I, Lynch Trans, am willing to dedicate my life to the Big Meat Church, and upon my death, everything I possess shall belong to the organization.

Damn it!

There was absolutely no mention of this in the original owner's memories.

Was it real or fake?

What was this Big Meat Church?

Which evil god had the original owner actually pledged allegiance to?

Was intercepting Klein really an unintentional act?

Lynch hadn't taken it to heart before, thinking that fate had taken a turn, that the original owner had intercepted Klein on that street, and then all of this had happened.

But what if this had been a scheme from the very beginning?

The original owner was ordered to intercept Klein, perhaps to achieve some goal; his actions angered the person who wanted to obtain the Antigonus Notebook, leading to him being shot to death, and subsequently, his body was occupied by him, an outsider.

Those people thought the original owner was dead, so they sent someone to collect the original owner's inheritance.

That was it; Daly had once asked him why he had walked down that street that night, as he shouldn't have been on that street at all. He had been vigilant at the time, but then he had ignored it.

Ignored it so easily.