Lynn followed Boss Reggie through the door behind the counter, his curiosity piqued. He led him into the familiar cramped backroom containing only a small table with two chairs.
Inside the dimly lit space, he sat and gestured for his guest to do the same. Leaning forward, he began to explain the full story behind this highly lucrative medical job he was proposing.
Actually, he didn't really know the precise situation. The only information he possessed so far was that a very rich person was in a hurry, looking for shady intermediaries all over the abandoned district.
The money they were offering was remarkably high and generous. Numerous other doctors eagerly accepted the opportunity, but each of them came back empty-handed.
When Boss Reggie received the news, he was intrigued. They offered a substantial fee of 150,000 federal dollars as a reward. If the client could be cured, he would receive a commission of 20,000 federal dollars.
Lynn's eyes widened at the mention of such an exorbitant amount. It was more money than he had ever seen or handled in his life. For ordinary working-class folk, that sum represented years of backbreaking labor.
Of course, if the person couldn’t be cured the reward didn't matter. The bartender himself didn't have much hope, but this deal was too tempting to pass up without at least making an attempt.
Lynn leaned back in his chair, a contemplative frown creasing his brow. A wealthy man coming all the way to the lawless abandoned district in search of a cure, it didn't quite make sense.
"Since they are rich, why didn't they go to the city hospitals or seek renowned doctors instead of coming to this chaotic place?" he asked, expressing his confusion and skepticism.
Boss Reggie simply shrugged. "Who knows? I guess they must have tried it already but couldn't be cured, so they came here to try his luck," he replied with a nonchalant tone.
This response did little to inspire confidence. Lynn pressed further, trying to gather more information and make sense of the dubious situation. "What is the patient's current condition? What exactly am I up against?" he inquired.
But the bartender just shook his head. "I'm afraid the details weren't disclosed. All I know for certain is that the person is incredibly wealthy and desperate to find a cure, no matter the cost."
This caused the frown on Lynn’s face to deepen as he considered the implications. The lack of information about the disease or symptoms made him feel a bit hesitant about accepting this case.
Perhaps the problem plaguing this mysterious client was of an extraordinary nature, outside the scope of normal medicine. Or there were other mitigating circumstances that compelled discretion.
Sensing his hesitation, the one-eyed man spoke up again, trying to reassure him. “You can just go and have a look. If you think you can’t treat the person, you can always walk away. It wouldn't be life-threatening.”
“However, I must warn you. If you're not sure, don't do anything. Once you intervene and he remains uncured, the situation will be different. None of these rich men are mere characters, so don't be reckless."
Lynn nodded slowly, appreciating the cautionary advice. Dealing with influential people was always unpredictable. Even the most well-intentioned actions could be misconstrued if the outcome was not favorable.
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But after considering it carefully, he decided to accept the task anyway. Not only for the money being offered but also because he was curious about this person’s condition. After all, he was an extraordinary doctor.
He came out of the backroom, holding two rolls of pork, one on each side, and eating on the way out. The savory meat practically melted on his tongue, and the warm, flaky bread was still steaming from the kitchen’s oven.
After the lengthy discussion, weighing the risks and rewards of this mysterious medical job, he had worked up quite an appetite. Before departing, he decided to grab a quick meat bun snack.
"Thanks for the food, Izzy," he called out to the young woman working diligently over a large pot bubbling on the stove. She glanced up briefly and gave a small nod of acknowledgment before returning her focus to the task at hand.
Lynn didn't linger for long, finishing the first meat bun in just a few quick bites. The tender pork and soft bread were delicious, filling his mouth with a burst of flavors.
As he wolfed down the second meat bun, he made his way toward the exit, his thoughts contemplating all the possible ways in which this dubious job could go horribly wrong.
Wiping the grease from his fingers, he pushed open the weathered wooden door, stepping out into the dingy street bathed in morning light. These rays did little to diminish the unsettling atmosphere permeating the outer district.
However, just as he exited the tavern, an unexpected person came from the opposite direction down the alley. It was none other than the stern-faced captain of the Special Investigation Bureau, Simon.
The sharp golden eyes immediately alighted upon him. His imposing frame seemed to fill the entire alley, exuding an intimidating aura that seized the surroundings.
For a brief moment, Lynn froze in his tracks, muscles tensing instinctively. His heart began to race as he met the piercing gaze. This was an encounter he had hoped to avoid, at least for the time being.
And the worst part - thanks to his extraordinary perception, he immediately sensed that the danger the man was emanating seemed to have intensified since the last encounter.
Every instinct urged him to flee, but he resisted the impulse, reminding himself that he had done nothing wrong. Such a reaction would only invite suspicion and put him in a more precarious position.
So instead, he continued walking at a steady pace, keeping his head lowered just enough to obscure his features beneath the cloak’s hood, even if he was wearing the faceless mask that completely changed his face.
Strangely, the gaze moved past him without interest, fixing instead on the entrance of The Whispering Serpent. Simon didn't even acknowledge his presence, brushing past him and striding directly into the tavern.
Lynn internally released a sigh of relief as the intimidating man disappeared inside. It seemed he had avoided unwanted scrutiny, at least for now. Still, his mind raced, wondering about his purpose here.
Was he following a lead related to the chaotic events from the previous night? Or did he have some other agenda involving Boss Reggie? There were too many uncertainties swirling through his thoughts.
The logical thing would be to swiftly take advantage of the situation and make his way out of the area before he attracted unwanted attention. But curiosity got the better of him.
Glancing around furtively to ensure no one had noticed him loitering outside, he slipped into a shadowy corner near the entrance, pressing himself flat against the wall to avoid detection.
Peering in through a dingy window, obscured slightly by years of accumulated filth, he watched as the man purposefully approached the bar counter where Boss Reggie was cleaning glasses.
He looked up from wiping down the counter, his single eye widened briefly in surprise as he recognized the stern face. To Lynn's astonishment, the two men familiarly greeted each other.
"Goodness gracious, Simon! Is that really you?" the barkeeper exclaimed, a broad grin splitting his weathered face. He tossed aside the dirty rag in his hand and leaned over the counter.
The usually stern face of the captain softened into a hint of a smile as he nodded in response. "Can't stay away from your whiskey for long. How about two glasses for old-time's sake?" Boss Reggie let out a hearty laugh and began pouring amber liquid into squat glasses.
Lynn's eyes widened, the gears turning rapidly in his mind. The interaction unfolding before him completely defied his expectations. The two men seemed to share a history that went beyond a simple acquaintance.
This revelation opened up more questions than it answered. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to dwell on the situation for too long, the risk of being discovered eavesdropping was too great.
More pressing matters also demanded his focus. Namely, preparing adequately for the dubious medical task he had accepted: treating the mysterious wealthy client somewhere in the city.