Chapter 16: A New Beginning

“I didn’t really have a choice,” Lans said, neatly arranging the two contracts. “But it’s also the best option.”

He paused. “So when do I start?”

Alberto didn’t immediately send him to work; instead, he asked about Lans’s current job. “What are you going to do about your bakery job?”

“It’s just twenty bucks. I’ll handle it.”

Alberto pulled open a drawer, took out a roll of cash, counted out twenty bills, and handed them to Lans. “Here’s forty. That’s your expenses for the next few days. I hope this forty makes me feel like I spent it well!”

Lans took the money. “I guarantee you’ll think it was worth every penny.”

“Go find Fodis. He’ll give you some small tools you can use when collecting debts.”

“Get to work. I’m waiting for good news.”

Lans stood up, straightened his clothes, then turned and left.

Actually, Alberto had already spoken to Fodis.

So when he arrived at the lobby, Fodis was already waiting for him.

He led Lans to a small house beside the parking lot in the back. “What kind of weapon are you used to?”

“A baseball bat, a dagger, or a hunting knife?”

“But I don’t recommend you start with lethal weapons. If you accidentally kill one of our esteemed clients, the boss will peel your skin off.”

“Unless you can make up for his losses!” As he spoke, Fodis opened the door. From the outside, the room looked unremarkable.

But inside, you’d find weapons hanging everywhere in piles.

Baseball bats, daggers, hunting knives, steel pipes, steel rods—almost everywhere.

“Do you have guns?”

Fodis’s expression of “You’ve never seen anything like this, country bumpkin!” hadn’t fully formed before it turned awkward.

“Thermal weapons are with Stone. You’ll meet him later—but not now.”

“Without the boss’s permission, you can’t get a gun from the company. Of course, buying one yourself is your own business.”

“So pick a weapon first. I recommend this one!”

He took down a baseball bat with red, white, and blue stripes, swung it a few times, and handed it to Lans. “Authentic Jinchang City Sailboat Team bat. I love their games. This season, they’ll win the championship!”

It was clear he was a baseball fan. Then he handed the bat to Lans. “Learn how to strike first. Then consider more threatening weapons.”

“Our job is to help people who need money to get through hard times—and then get our money back once they’re through. We never initiate violence. Do you understand?”

Fodis repeated this several times, then left the “weapon room” with Lans. “Go pick a car. We can’t have you and your friends running around for us…”

Lans’s eyes lit up. Nobody disliked driving. He immediately looked toward the shiny luxury sedans gleaming in the sunlight.

But unfortunately, Fodis turned his body in another direction and pointed to a few battered, filthy cars parked in the alley. “Those are the ones you should pick.”

He scratched his head; his scalp felt strangely warm. “For heaven’s sake, can these even run?”

“Why not?” Fodis walked over to one car, grabbed the door handle, and gave it a light tug. With a click, the entire door came off.

He quickly caught the nearly collapsing door and shouted loudly, “Jamie! Why is there a car here with its door off?”

A middle-aged man in denim overalls, covered in grime, stepped out from what looked like a warehouse.

He held a cigarette in his mouth and said impatiently, “That car just arrived. The ones next to it are fine. Why’d you pick the broken one?”

“Is this our new partner?”

Fodis clapped his hands and released the door. “Not exactly. But I think we’ll be working together for a while.”

He introduced Lans. “This is Jamie. If you watch racing, you know the Supersonic Team—he’s their number two mechanic.”

“But something unpleasant happened, so now he works for the boss.”

Jamie shrugged. “I owe him a favor, so I’m working to pay it off.” He paused, picked a key from a row hanging on the wall, and tossed it to Lans. “Try your new car—the brown one. I tuned it specially.”

Many debtors genuinely can’t pay—they have no money. To reduce losses, the company repossesses their cars.

Luxury cars can be rented out or resold. Other cars, if they can be sold to secondhand dealers, are sold.

The ones that won’t sell are kept here—they’ll be useful someday.

Lans started the engine with some difficulty. What felt unfamiliar was the car’s manual throttle.

An old car—no one knew how many years old. The throttle was on the right side of the steering wheel, operated by pulling back to increase speed.

It had a gauge where the throttle rod could be hooked to hold its position, ensuring constant fuel flow—call it a throttle rod, though Lans didn’t know what else to call it.

But one had to admit: this might be the earliest car with cruise control…

After a brief trial, he got used to it. Even with the manual throttle, once accustomed, it wasn’t inconvenient at all.

Lans put the baseball bat in the trunk, bid farewell to Fodis and Jamie, and drove off.

The two exchanged a few words, then went their separate ways.

Driving on the road, Lans remained nervous for a while, but eventually grew accustomed to the traffic of this era.

As long as he didn’t exceed thirty miles per hour, the car ran fairly smoothly.

He drove straight to the bridge near the docks—Elwin and the others lived there.

Passing a store, he stopped and spent two bucks to buy ten packs of cigarettes and a box of matches.

By the time he reached under the bridge, forty minutes had passed.

The honk made several heads pop out from the underpass. Elwin stared in disbelief at Lans standing beside the car.

He held a cigarette between his lips, slightly bent over, right hand resting beside the steering wheel.

“My god, where did you get this car?” The guys quickly ran out.

They carried a distinct odor—summer, long without bathing or changing clothes—but it wasn’t their fault.

There were no good washing facilities here, even though the river was right beside them.

Jinchang City’s sewage and treated industrial waste flowed into the sea, so the river’s water was black and stank.

In winter, the smell wasn’t as sharp; in summer, the sea salt could mask some of it. Though people had complained to City Hall many times, the masters only cared about economic growth comparisons—not whether the river stank.

Young men who hadn’t bathed or changed clothes for days, and who sweated easily, smelled like they could knock someone dead.

They stood beside the car, touching this true old-timer. Lans handed them cigarettes.

“Mr. Corti—the man we borrowed money from—gave us a new job.”

“If we help him recover two of his debts, our debt to him is wiped clean, and we’ll get a cut.”

He patted the car. “This is his advance on transportation. I need four people with me. Who’s first?”

Elwin stepped right beside Lans. “I’m going.”

Ethan slapped his chest. “I’m going too. I owe you.”

Merlo opened his mouth, but Lans stopped him. “Stay behind. You’re older—you’ll stay calmer in emergencies.”

“If anything happens, buy time. We’ll be back soon.”

He casually picked two others from the crowd and told them to get in the car.

Ethan sat in the front passenger seat. As he entered, the car visibly sagged.

Lans asked curiously, “How much do you weigh?”

He looked embarrassed. “One hundred eighty pounds. But I’ve lost some weight.”

Elwin laughed from the back seat. “Don’t believe him—that scale only goes up to one hundred eighty!”

Ethan flushed with anger. “Damn it, no one will think you’re mute if you shut up!”

As the car moved, their laughter faded. They rolled down the windows, enjoying the hot, uncomfortable wind blowing in.

The first debtor owed Alberto a thousand bucks: a man named Candra, an insurance company employee. He’d borrowed the money and was now due to repay.

He’d been stalling, and rumors said he was planning to flee.

“Are we going to beat him up?”

As the destination neared, Ethan couldn’t help asking.

Lans drove, not looking back. “That depends on whether he cooperates…”