I work as a sorcerer in the US, and my side hustle is building Gundams.

In the alley next to the Terry Terrace apartment building in James Lucy, like elsewhere in Seattle, there are many different kinds of cheap tents.

Daniel led his new boss through the alley and soon arrived at a sky-blue tent.

Next to the tent were many rotten cardboard boxes and some colorful plastic bags. Lynn immediately spotted a huge 5-liter bag of cat food, next to which was a very tattered cat scratching post.

"This is it, boss."

The short, black man, DeShawn, respectfully stepped aside and pointed to the half-open tent, where a gaunt old man could be vaguely seen sitting inside.

"Hey, look! Just a bunch of idiots who believed urban legends and came here treasure hunting!"

Lynn was about to unzip the tent and go inside to see the legendary bank robber.

Suddenly, a few disdainful sneers came from the side.

He turned around and saw a thin, middle-aged white man wearing a thick wad of clothes, as if he had put all his savings on his body.

"Hey man, watch your mouth! The man standing in front of you is Seattle's only witch doctor blessed by God!"

When DeShawn and Darnell heard someone mocking their boss, they felt it was a mockery of themselves and immediately stepped forward to confront them.

"Hey, I'm just stating an objective fact."

The thin, middle-aged white man shrugged indifferently, showing no fear whatsoever of the two black men's threats aimed at him.

He completely ignored the witch doctor who was supposedly blessed by the true god. These days, there are plenty of people who talk nonsense, and everyone who takes drugs thinks they are the darling of various gods.

"This old man is crazy. He's been living here for almost a year. Look how poor he is! He can't even afford to buy his cat a decent amount of cat food. He spends all his time rummaging through other people's trash in the garbage cans..."

"If he really robbed a bank and there's a huge sum of money buried outside, why would he be suffering like this here? If you have any brains, think about it."

"But isn't it because he's gone mad that he can't remember things and that's why he's so poor?"

DeShawn, hands on his hips, angrily questioned him, clearly unconvinced.

"Of course, that possibility can't be ruled out... but what can you possibly get out of a madman? That's why I say you're wasting your time."

Faced with the other party's ridicule, Lynn did not say anything, but directly pointed the system panel at the other party and directly pointed out his personal information.

Tristian is a third-rate private investigator whose business isn't doing too well. A year ago, after accidentally hearing about this urban legend, he came here to infiltrate Charles's inner circle, posing as a homeless man, hoping to find out where the money Charles stole from the bank is. But no matter what he tries over the past year, he hasn't been able to get any answers out of the old man.

"So that's how it is. This guy was also a competitor, and he disguised himself so well..."

Lynn nodded to himself.

"However, this also proves from another angle that Charles did indeed do this, and may actually have hidden a huge sum of money somewhere."

"Hey, Daniel, come here for a second."

Lynn didn't say anything more, but waved to his fat, dark-skinned underling.

"Don't waste your breath on him. In a bit, figure out a way to lure him away, and then DeShawn, Mike, and I will go in and see if Charles can find any clues."

"Hmm? Draw him away? Oh, I see, you're afraid he'll hear something he shouldn't, right? I understand!"

Although Daniel was fat and looked very fierce, he was surprisingly intelligent.

He understood as soon as Lynn explained it, and then walked over.

"Come on, bro, since you've been here so long, tell me something about Charles, okay?"

As he spoke, he suddenly placed his thick, broad arm around the neck of the thin, middle-aged white man, grabbed him without a word, and dragged him away. No matter how much the latter struggled, he could not break free from his broad arm.

"Alright, problem solved. Let's go in and talk to Charles."

Lynn nodded to DeShawn and Mike, unzipped his pants, and the three of them stepped into the cramped and cheap tent.

Before him sat a thin, middle-aged white man in his seventies, sitting on a dirty knitted carpet.

With his high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and wrinkles on his forehead, he looked exactly like a 70-year-old.

Her gray hair hung down to her shoulders. She wore a tattered jacket and ripped jeans. On her feet, she wore a Nike slipper on her left foot and a white Adidas sneaker on her right.

He stared blankly in Lynn's direction, seemingly unaware that someone had entered his little nest.

In his arms was a plump gray cat, completely different from him, whose large body made its owner look even thinner.

Meow~

Seeing someone come in, the gray cat turned its head and meowed warily at Lynn, while also exhaling a breath.

Even so, Charles still didn't react at all, only patting the gray cat's head as if to comfort it.

"Mr. Charles?"

Lynn tried reaching out and waving her hand at the other person's empty eyes.

The other party still did not react.

"Mr. Charles?"

He tried reaching out and patting the other man's shoulder, and only then did Erles finally react. He first shuddered violently, and then, as if noticing someone in front of him, slowly opened his mouth:

"I am not Charles, you have the wrong person."

"Hey Charles, everyone here knows you're Charles. You're the robber who stole $70 from the Chicago National Savings Bank branch 20 years ago!"

Upon hearing all this, DeShawn immediately reached out and shoved the other man in obvious displeasure.

"I am not Charles, you are all lunatics, you all deserve to die!"

This seemed to trigger a strong reaction from the other party. He immediately hugged the cat tightly in his arms and roared loudly with his hair and beard standing on end, startling Lynn and the others into jumping back!

"That's how it is; he goes crazy whenever anyone mentions it."

DeShawn shrugged helplessly, then looked at Lynn with anticipation:

"But you're different, boss. You're a psychic healer. Why don't you try communicating with one of the Loas and ask them a question?"

The story of what Lynn did in Carlosbon has been revealed by his gang members, and it has become increasingly exaggerated. Some people have even come to believe that Lynn is a reincarnation of a Loa!

So Lynn wasn't surprised that he was looking at him expectantly now.

Mike, standing to the side, had the same expression.

Okay, then I'll see what Charles's true identity really is.

Lynn composed herself, opened the system panel for Charles, and selected to view his identity information.