Tax?

"What?!!"

"You're saying that if I want to inherit the estate, I have to pay around one million dollars in taxes first?"

Ryan braced both hands on the desk and leaned forward, his expression like that of a crazed beast.

"Yes, sir. Based on your description, it really would be that much."

The lawyer he had consulted spread his hands, indicating that was simply how it was.

"Fuck!!!"

Having received a definite answer, Ryan abruptly stood up and paced back and forth twice.

After saying goodbye to Annie, Ryan had taken a taxi to a somewhat well-known law firm in New York to consult them about inheriting the estate.

But he had never expected such a fucked-up answer.

He had to pay money before he could inherit the estate—and so much of it, too. Which son of a bitch had made up this rule?!

"What about the insurance? The money from the insurance doesn't need to be taxed before I can receive it too, right?"

Remembering that the inheritance this body had received also included insurance compensation, Ryan asked again with hope.

"That doesn't need to be taxed, provided that you're the beneficiary. But sir, you said earlier that Lawyer Mocha was helping you handle this matter. Why did you come here to consult me?"

The lawyer Ryan had questioned asked curiously. Mocha was fairly well-known in legal circles; there was no way he would fail to explain such basic matters clearly to his client.

"For certain reasons..." Ryan frowned when questioned. After examining the lawyer before him for a moment, he finally said, "Maybe my father's death made me so grief-stricken that I lost some memories. I'm resisting some of my former life now, so I don't..."

"All right, sir, I'm not a doctor." The lawyer sitting in his office chair brightened upon hearing this. Smiling, he closed the files he had been handling and walked over to Ryan.

"I only need to know that you genuinely need help and aren't some guy who came in to waste my time. So, what do you want me to do?"

Ryan was not angered by being interrupted. He looked calmly at the lawyer and said, "I need you to help me figure out every legal matter."

"No problem!" The lawyer snapped his fingers sharply and asked with a hint of greed in his eyes, "So, what about my fee?"

"After the inheritance is settled, I'll pay you three thousand dollars. Or one hundred dollars a day, until I decide to end your employment or you no longer accept my employment."

Ryan calmly named what he considered a reasonable price.

"That's a little low," the lawyer said tentatively.

"It isn't low. Lawyer Mocha will handle the truly troublesome matters. You only need to make sure I don't get scammed."

Ryan gave his reasoning and stared at the lawyer without yielding.

"All right, then. Happy cooperation!"

Seeing Ryan's resolute expression, the lawyer lowered his head to consider it briefly, then smiled and extended his hand.

Ryan looked down, reached out, and shook it. "Happy cooperation."

The speeding car weaved through New York's streets as the two men, having reached an agreement, headed toward Mocha's home.

"I know what you're worried about, buddy. But I want to say that your worries are unnecessary. What you're worried about won't happen. The law won't allow it, and it's never happened in United States history." The lawyer driving suddenly turned his head and said this.

"Is that so?" Ryan's eyebrows twitched sharply twice. "Then you should've told me beforehand instead of after taking my three thousand dollars."

"Ha, I haven't gotten that three thousand dollars yet. We only signed a contract."

The lawyer driving spoke somewhat awkwardly. Strictly speaking, this deal had indeed been rather unscrupulous of him, but who could blame him when an idiot had delivered money right to his door? If he did not fleece him for a bit, he would be letting himself down.

"Heh!" Ryan gave a mocking laugh after hearing that.

He closed his eyes, too lazy to speak. In his previous life, he had been a shut-in from China, so naturally he knew nothing about the twists and turns of Americans. Having suddenly arrived in another world, he could only approach things with the belief that human nature was inherently evil. He had not expected that mindset to get him conned out of money.

The malice of reality gave this transmigrator a deep lesson on only his second day in this world.

Screech...

The car brakes sounded, and the vehicle slowly came to a stop. Looking at the building before him, Ryan opened the door and got out.

"This is the building where Lawyer Mocha lives?"

Thinking of the address he had obtained from Lawyer Mocha via text message before coming, Ryan could not help muttering.

"Hey, buddy, you shouldn't ask me. I drove here based on the place you told me."

The lawyer who had gotten out after him could not help saying this when he heard Ryan.

"I didn't tell you... Forget it. Just wait here. You don't need to come up with me." Ryan frowned.

"What?" The lawyer responded as though he had not heard clearly.

"I said wait here. Or you can tell me what use you still have?" Ryan turned around and mocked him.

"All right, buddy, I know you're angry. But you should know we signed a contract. Once your inheritance matter is resolved, or once a month has passed, you have to pay me three thousand dollars." The mocked lawyer did not get angry, merely spreading his hands.

"I don't need you to remind me!"

Ryan snorted coldly and walked into the apartment building.

"All right, that saves me some trouble too!"

Watching Ryan's back disappear, the lawyer shrugged, returned to the car, put on his headphones, and listened to music.

"Room 402. This should be it."

Ryan looked at the label above the door, adjusted his collar, and knocked.

Honestly, he was a little nervous right now. After all, the person he was about to meet could be considered an elder of this body.

If the inheritance had not concerned whether he could live happily for a long time to come, he truly would not have wanted much contact with people familiar with this body.

The door opened, and the person who pulled it open was a middle-aged woman with long, wavy golden hair and a curvaceous figure.

Although there were already some wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and on her skin, one could still imagine how stunning she had been in her youth from the lingering charm on her face.

"Oh, my little Ryan, poor little Ryan. Come in quickly. Your Uncle Mocha said you were coming today, so Aunt Rose prepared lots of food you love."

Without waiting for Ryan to speak, the woman warmly pulled him into the house. Ryan, somewhat bewildered, could only respond with an awkward smile and obediently follow her instructions.

"You're here."

The bald middle-aged man in a floral shirt, seated on the living room sofa, turned toward Ryan when he heard the movement at the entrance.

"Uh, yes, Uncle Mocha."

Ryan greeted him with some uncertainty. He had never met Mocha and could only infer his identity from the scene before him and the voice he had heard over the phone yesterday.

"Mm. Come over. Sit."

Mocha nodded and gestured for Ryan to come over.

Ryan hesitated slightly, gave the woman an apologetic smile, then walked over and sat on the sofa opposite Mocha.

"About your father, I'm very... Hmm, you don't look quite right. Are you feeling unwell somewhere?"

Mocha paused mid-sentence and looked at Ryan as he asked.

"Uh, yes." Ryan had not expected Mocha's gaze to be so sharp. He hesitated before nodding. "To be honest, I've lost a large portion of my memories."

"What happened?!"

Mocha's burly body straightened, and his gaze instantly became sharp. The atmosphere in the room began to turn oppressive.

"I don't know either. I haven't gone to the hospital for an examination yet, but I discovered the memory loss last night. I think it may have been caused by excessive grief."

Ryan explained somewhat guiltily. Mocha's gaze made him feel pressured.