Got Any More Work?
"······What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Donovan shrugged lightly, answering with casual indifference.
"Exactly what I said. The direction you're digging in right now? Completely wrong, from what I can tell."
The Boss swallowed dryly.
"I need a detailed explanation."
"I just read what was written on your face. The energy spreading from between your brows doesn't reach the scarred eyebrow that marks the traitor—it snaps off into empty air before it can touch the Palace of Brothers."
Donovan shrugged again, delivering the conclusion flatly.
"What else could that mean? Your investigation is pointed the wrong way."
The Boss stared steadily into Donovan's eyes.
From everything he had observed so far, this was not a man who joked or played games with his own ability.
Still, one question rose in the Boss's mind.
Why tell me this all of a sudden?
Because of the enormous help—a hundred thousand dollars and a top-tier identity? Or because he now considered them trustworthy partners?
What calculation had he finished that made him drop this critical information at exactly this moment?
But the answer that left Donovan's mouth completely missed the Boss's expectations.
"If I'd known from the start, I would've told you right away. But something that wasn't visible last night only became clear just now."
"······It wasn't visible before?"
The Boss's brow furrowed.
The hunt for the traitor was still ongoing. There was no way a direction that had been correct yesterday could suddenly turn wrong today.
His doubt was cleared by Donovan's next words.
"Who knows. Maybe the trust you showed me let me read deeper······ or maybe recognizing you as a partner widened my field of vision. I can't say for sure."
"······."
Donovan finished with a dry little laugh.
"Anyway, that's why things I couldn't see before are showing up now, I guess?"
It was vague, almost like grasping at clouds. But as an information broker, the Boss coldly dissected even that ambiguous answer.
So the deeper the relationship, the more he can see?
The longer this partnership lasted and the deeper the trust grew, the more Donovan would be able to perceive—and the deeper he would see.
Of course I can't take that at face value.
He had dressed it up in nice words about trust and partnership, but it could simply be repayment for the favor already shown.
The reason didn't matter. The conclusion was the same either way: the closer he stayed to this man, the more he would learn.
And that would be help no amount of money could buy.
Even right now it was true. Knowing in advance that his investigation was off course meant he could save every resource that would have been poured into it—time, money, and the wasted effort of his informants.
I can find him.
Hope flickered in the Boss's eyes.
I'll have to take better care of this from now on.
With that short resolution, the Boss spoke with genuine sincerity.
"Thank you. That was a great help."
"Glad to hear it. If anything else shows up next time, I'll tell you right away."
At Donovan's words the Boss gave a faint smile and nodded.
"I'd appreciate that."
Having expressed his thanks, the Boss rose without lingering. He had confirmed a faulty information network; it needed to be scrapped immediately and the board reset.
"Now that I know it's wrong, I'll go clean things up."
"Yeah. Go ahead. Like I said earlier, take the photo and send it. I'll rest easy here today."
"Alright."
With the situation neatly settled, the low hum of the generator once again filled the quiet tent.
The next morning.
The Boss entered the tent and handed over a thick document envelope.
"Check it."
Among the contents, the first thing that caught Donovan's eye was a blue piece of paper.
"Social Security card. A clean number perfectly registered in the state government database."
With the explanation, Donovan's gaze moved to the name printed on the card.
Donovan Kang
Driver's license, birth certificate, tax history—everything was flawless.
"······This isn't some fake ID."
Not forgery. An entirely new identity created from scratch.
The Boss nodded as if it were only natural.
"That's why not just anyone can use The Photo Studio."
Donovan looked at the documents with open admiration.
In a single stroke he had been reborn from a homeless man into American citizen Donovan Kang.
Satisfied with the reaction, the Boss pulled a plastic card from his coat and set it on the table.
"Debit card holding the hundred thousand the Fixer sent. PIN is set to '0000' for now—change it at a bank later."
Just as Donovan reached for the card, the Boss placed a stack of cash bound with a yellow rubber band on the table.
"Two thousand dollars. Cash comes in handy for tips or sudden expenses, so I prepared it."
At that careful consideration Donovan gave a short laugh and pocketed the money.
"Thanks. I'll put it to good use."
As Donovan started to rise, the Boss called him back.
"Hold on."
"What?"
"You planning to wander the middle of New York looking like that when you don't even know the geography? I've got someone waiting outside."
"Someone?"
"A guy who's like my left arm. Knows New York inside out, keeps his mouth shut, and his fists are reliable. Until you settle into this city, he'll be your driver and bodyguard."
Extraordinary treatment and meticulous care.
When Donovan showed surprise at the unexpected favor, the Boss continued evenly.
"Think of it as my own way of repaying the advice you gave me yesterday······ and the bare minimum protection for an important business partner."
Just as the Boss said, an old sedan sat under the bridge outside the tent. In front of it stood a massive white man.
Anyone could see he carried the air of a veteran who had been through every kind of hardship.
Donovan gave the man's face a light once-over.
Thick, straight eyebrows. Jawbone solid as rock. Lips sealed heavy and tight. The face of a loyal retainer who doesn't scheme and simply protects his lord.
Exactly the kind of physiognomy that would make the Boss call him his "left arm" and keep him close.
As Donovan approached, the man opened the rear door.
Instead of climbing straight in, Donovan grinned and offered his hand first.
"Donovan Kang. Looking forward to working with you."
"······Cole."
Cole accepted the rough handshake and bowed his head politely.
Once in the back seat, Donovan spoke.
"Let's go."
"Where to, sir?"
Donovan glanced between his own shabby clothes and the interior of the old sedan Cole was driving.
This won't do.
He had learned one thing back in his Itaewon days.
For a physiognomist, appearance mattered a great deal.
A man who couldn't even look after himself, standing there in a frayed mess, had no persuasive power when discussing someone else's fate.
And the clients the Boss would introduce from now on were special.
I need an exterior that matches.
So the first order of business was this.
"First, how about we go change the car?"
"Excuse me? A rental, sir?"
"No. I'm buying. Need to swap it out right away······ take me to a used-car lot."
A large used-car dealership on the outskirts of Manhattan.
The combination of Donovan and Cole walking into the showroom looked bizarre to anyone watching.
A massive, battle-hardened Cole beside a shabby-looking Asian man. They did not look like customers who had money.
Accordingly, every dealer inside the store simultaneously averted their eyes as if by prior agreement.
Donovan, however, was not offended by their reaction. Instead he quickly scanned the dealers' faces.
Narrow space between the brows and pupils that keep rolling around—that one. Thin, crooked lips that will sweet-talk and cheat······ every last one of them is ready to rip a customer off.
After sweeping the room for a while, Donovan's gaze stopped on a young dealer quietly arranging vehicle brochures in a corner.
Straight bridge of the nose, thick and full nostrils. No murky energy in the eyes either. The face of a merchant who won't scam anyone and will simply take his fair share—excellent physiognomy for a salesman.
Without hesitation Donovan walked straight toward that dealer.
The other dealers, relieved that the pair had not come to them, sent mixed looks of pity and mockery toward the corner salesman.
"Excuse me."
At Donovan's call the dealer hurriedly looked up.
He seemed briefly tense at the sight of the shabby Donovan and the rough-looking Cole, but he quickly offered a polite greeting.
"Ah, yes! Welcome. What kind of vehicle are you looking for? A compact for commuting, or perhaps a mid-size with good value······"
"Sedan. Highest grade if possible."
Donovan cut him off and spoke flatly.
"Full payment today, and I want one in good enough shape that I can drive it out right now."
The dealer's eyes went round. So did Cole's, who had been waiting silently behind them.
The showroom had been so quiet that Donovan's voice carried clearly even to the dealers standing far away.
"······Excuse me? Th-the highest grade sedan?"
"Yeah. Something like······"
An image of a "lawyer who drives a Lincoln" floated up in Donovan's mind. It matched the picture he wanted perfectly.
"Yeah. A Lincoln would be just right."
Dealers who had been pretending to study paperwork all jerked their heads up at once.
Shock and deep regret flashed across the faces of the men who, moments earlier, had been doing everything possible to avoid Donovan and Cole.
Crazy—looking like that and talking about full payment?
Damn it, I should've approached first!
Someone bit his lip hard. Someone else glared with open jealousy at the young dealer still attending to Donovan.
They had kicked a jackpot that had rolled right up to their feet.
The honest-faced dealer Donovan had chosen looked dazed for a second, then swallowed hard and moved with professional speed.
"W-we actually just got in a top-of-the-line unit less than a year old!"
"······."
"Previous owner kept it in the garage only—it's practically new. Just fill out the paperwork and I'll have it ready for you to drive out immediately!"
"I'll take that one. Shall we handle payment first?"
Donovan pulled the sleek debit card from his field-jacket pocket and held it out casually.
"One lump sum."
The dealer's hands trembled slightly.
The card swiped through the terminal, a cheerful approval tone rang out, and the receipt unspooled.
Including tax and fees, seventy thousand dollars vanished in an instant.
Donovan did not so much as blink.
Thirty minutes later.
A heavy, glossy black full-size Lincoln sedan glided out of the dealership entrance.
Behind the wheel sat Cole, still wearing a dazed expression as if reality had not quite caught up. In the wide, comfortable rear seat, Donovan—still in his shabby clothes—sank deep into the cushions.
Ignoring the dealers who looked ready to pound the ground in regret, Donovan met Cole's eyes in the rearview mirror and gave a short laugh.
"If you're already surprised, what are you going to do? This is only the beginning."
"······Sir?"
What that meant, Cole would see with his own eyes soon enough.
The parking garage of a top-tier luxury department store on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan.
Standing beside the black Lincoln, Cole held both hands full of heavy shopping bags and stared blankly into space.
What the hell is going on?
Brain freeze had hit the battle-hardened veteran Cole only a couple of hours earlier.
The moment they bought the car, Donovan had headed straight for the men's luxury floor of the department store and started swiping the card as naturally as breathing.
Top-grade Italian suits and long coats, handmade shoes—those were the basics.
On top of that came a black silk mask for suits that had once been produced in limited numbers for VIPs, the finest sunglasses, and a heavy Swiss luxury watch that supposedly completed a man's dignity.
He even thoroughly cleaned out everyday clothes and high-end underwear.
Every cheerful swipe of the card sent several thousand dollars flying into the air as if it were nothing.
A man who only yesterday had nearly frozen to death under a bridge had burned through a hundred thousand dollars in half a day.
Without so much as a blink.
By Cole's standards it was completely incomprehensible behavior.
The only moment Cole had been able to nod along during this insane shopping spree was the final hotel booking.
At least when he chose a five-star hotel for security and safety, he picked a regular room instead of some uselessly expensive suite. That part was reasonable.
Aside from that tiny bit of sense, the man's spending was enough to leave anyone speechless.
Feeling the weight of dozens of shopping bags crushing both hands, Cole stared at Donovan's back with a vacant expression.
The most astonishing part was something else entirely.
The man wearing a multi-thousand-dollar luxury suit and a tens-of-thousands-dollar watch looked not the least bit awkward in them.
He looked so natural it was as if the clothes had always been his—so natural it felt inevitable.
Watching that leisurely, confident stride, Cole found it almost impossible to recall the scruffy figure who that very morning had been wearing a worn field jacket under the bridge.
This man······ what the hell is he really?
As Cole watched Donovan with a mixture of awe, a brutally practical question suddenly crossed his mind.
Wait. Didn't he just swipe through the entire hundred thousand? What about tomorrow's meals and the hotel extension?
Truly, nothing about this night made sense.
As if to mock Cole's worries, the moment Donovan entered the room he threw himself onto the plush sofa and casually pulled out his flip phone.
When the call connected, he spoke in the most shameless voice imaginable.
"Hey, Boss. It's me."
"Right. With the hundred thousand the Fixer sent, a place to stay······"
"I spent all the money. Got any jobs?"
"······."
Over the line came the unmistakable sound of the Boss's breath catching hard in his throat.