Chapter 27

"The autopsy results are in." Vanessa's voice was grim.

Roger asked, "What did it show?"

Vanessa took a deep breath: "The corpse is missing both kidneys, corneas, and the heart, and eighty percent of its blood has been drained…"

"What the fuck."

Roger cursed—missing so many parts, it was like an unassembled action figure scattered in pieces.

Vanessa took another deep breath: "The police suspect the body was abandoned by a university as a cadaver, so they've already been contacting nearby universities."

"Couldn't the coroner determine the time of death?"

"It's been submerged too long—no longer viable for examination."

"Well, hopefully it's just a cadaver."

Though he didn't want to think it, Roger vaguely doubted the claim that a cadaver had been abandoned.

After hanging up, Roger submerged his head back into the bathtub, letting out gurgling bubbles.

…

Two days later.

Roger gasped as he set down his exercise equipment and stared at his panel.

【Roger West】

【Title: Apprentice Investigator (Status-induced negative effect: -30%)】

【Occupation: Homeless】

【Spirit Vision: 14】

【SAN Value: 7/23 (Daily recovery: 2 points)】

【Status: Edge of the Rift (You're on the brink of danger; occasional auditory hallucinations or illusions, but Physical Function +10%)】

【Physical Function: 8 (Status +10%)】

【Skills: Camouflage, Anchor Point, Firearm Proficiency, Scavenging, Electrical Repair】

Over these two days, he had been training hard and sleeping well.

And the system had revealed no new information, so his SAN Value had recovered, pulling him out of the danger zone.

At the same time, he had been actively helping Mrs. Fiona. Though Natasha seemed easy to approach, she was far too dangerous—one misstep and he'd be accused of seducing a minor.

Over these days, he learned more about Mrs. Fiona's family.

She had been married three times. Her first husband was a Black man who vanished after she had a child.

Her second husband was a white man who drank daily and fought constantly; Fiona couldn't bear it and divorced him.

Her third husband was a Mexican truck driver who also occasionally delivered goods for the Crips.

He was killed months ago by members of a rival gang during a gang conflict.

That was why Mrs. Fiona had previously disliked Robbie.

Now she seemed to have given up on finding another husband—she worked three jobs every day. She woke at six to cook, dropped Natasha off at eight, then went to work at a restaurant.

From three to six in the afternoon, she worked at an auto repair shop; after picking up Natasha, she worked at a bar until ten at night.

Mrs. Fiona's personal time was almost entirely consumed by work.

Such part-time arrangements were common in Meilijian—like Walter White from Breaking Bad. Even college professors had to take side jobs just to pay their mortgages and car loans.

Yet even then, they rarely saved any money.

If an accident happened now, sadly, the life of a homeless person would be waiting for you.

Roger understood this deeply—he himself had been cut down and fallen because of a minor accident.

Even now, he still owed the bank a massive mortgage.

Thinking of this, Roger left the garage, mounted his bicycle, and rode toward Third Avenue to join Juan for the free relief meal.

Though he now lived in the garage with shelter from wind and rain, that didn't mean he had escaped his homeless status.

Even if Vanessa's Informer told the truth, it barely earned him enough for meals—he needed a job like Zoe's to return to his former class.

But as he arrived at Third Avenue and locked his bicycle, he received a call from Juan.

"Someone's delivering pizza—want to come get some?"

"Of course! Where?"

Roger suddenly remembered the kind country singer, Anjielina.

Had she come again?

But he hadn't brought the CD.

Regardless, he followed Juan's address and found the familiar van by the roadside.

Anjielina, wearing a black T-shirt and white pants, smiled as she handed pizza boxes to the homeless; beside her stood two white youths.

Roger moved forward, nodding to Juan as he passed. But when he reached the end of the line, he saw the queue had twisted around several corners.

"Shit, I probably won't get any."

He wondered if the kind girl had saved him a slice.

After waiting a long while, Juan got his pizza—not a whole one, but half.

"Looks like the girl learned her lesson," Roger said, taking the slice Juan handed him and continuing to wait in line.

Jose was wagging his tail furiously beside him.

Juan immediately tossed a slice to Jose.

Jose devoured it happily.

When Roger reached the front of the line, a disappointed curse rang out ahead.

Then the homeless began to disperse, leaving only a thin, disheveled woman arguing with Anjielina.

"There's clearly still one pizza left, why won't you give it to me?"

As the woman spoke, the smell of marijuana burst forth, causing Anjielina to furrow her brow tightly.

"Sorry, this pizza was saved for someone else."

"What someone else? You're just jealous of how I look, so you won't give it to me!"

Hearing this, the two white guys beside the girl grew somewhat angry. One of them reached out and said: "Shut up, ugly freak. Even if there's leftover pizza, we still wouldn't give it to you."

"Leave now, or we're calling the police." the other white guy warned.

"Heh heh, you two turds. Back when I was young, punks like you were only fit to lick my boots!"

"You think I am who? I've acted in Hollywood movies! The men I've been with could circle Seattle."

"Looking at white guys like you—tough on the outside, empty inside. Three minutes would be a compliment to you."

"Have you ever even seen a real woman? All I'd have to do is step my high heels on your crotch and you'd feel like dying and ascending to heaven at once!"

"Hilarious, two mama's boys—better hurry home and suckle, won't you."

The woman seemed to have some mental issues, constantly emphasizing her past while hurling filthy abuse at Anjielina and the others.

The white guys were so angry they wanted to hit her, but Anjielina stepped in front of them, shaking her head repeatedly.

Just then, someone suddenly walked up beside the woman: "Are you done?"

The woman turned her head, flipped her hair, and revealed an ugly face covered in scars: "Shit, who the hell are you?"

"Want some pizza?"

The man handed her the leftover pizza.

"Oh, of course, thanks." The woman took the pizza, somewhat surprised.

"I heard they're handing out sandwiches on the street over there. If you don't hurry, someone else will snatch them all." The man suddenly lowered his voice.

"Really?" The woman was startled for a moment, then cautiously scanned her surroundings: "You didn't tell anyone else, did you?"

"Nope." The man shrugged. "I want to go grab some too."

"Then why are you telling me?" The woman suddenly looked at him warily: "Don't tell me you want to sleep with me?"

"It'd look better if you covered your hair."

"Your sweet talk is really terrible." Though the woman said so, the corners of her mouth were full of a smile.

"Clay Street No. 3, hurry up and go." The man held up his phone to show her.

"You hurry up too. Tonight I'm already fully booked, but if you're willing, you can come by tomorrow morning." The woman brushed her fingers across the man's shoulder: "You look way better than those two wet-behind-the-ears brats."

The man laughed, patted her waist, signaling that he understood.

After the woman left, the man finally looked at Anjielina: "Was that last pizza saved for me?"

"That's right, good thing you came." Anjielina breathed a sigh of relief and said with a smile.

Clearly, the one who had once again helped her deal with the homeless woman was Roger.