Law America, the Devil's Agent

The patrol officer placed his hand on the walkie-talkie at his waist and took a step forward.

His partner then turned on his flashlight and shone it at the iron gate.

"FUCK CHINESE!"

The red-haired woman cursed under her breath, but then her hand, which had been grabbing the girl, jerked away as if it had been burned.

Before he could finish speaking, his accomplices, sensing the danger, turned and fled in all directions.

They disappeared in the blink of an eye.

The case has been closed.

Customer satisfaction: Completely satisfied

[Rewards are being processed...]

Link watched the group of delinquents disappear into the depths of the street, without wanting the police to continue the pursuit.

My goal was to drive them away.

He simply turned around, took out a cigarette case from his pocket, and handed one to each of the two patrol officers.

The younger man, while fiddling with his lighter, mumbled, "Curtis Law Firm? Real lawyers?"

"Genuine, for both of you."

Link handed over the lighter and lit it for the old patrolman. The flame flickered in the night wind. "Thanks, sir."

The older patrolman waved his hand and glanced into the depths of the alley; the fleeing figures were long gone.

"These damn brats are like cockroaches on the street."

You wiped out one nest tonight, and three more will pop up tomorrow night.

There's nothing we can do; we can't arrest them all. We can only do our best to ensure the safety of "good citizens" like yourself.

Link nodded and handed over a few more cigarettes, but this time, there were two neatly folded green bills between his fingers.

He said, "It's so late, and I'm really sorry to have made you come all this way, delaying your patrol duties."

The two patrol officers glanced down and used their thumbs to pry open a corner of the two green tickets.

  

Fifty dollars.

This denomination is just right, very reasonable.

Goodbye, lawyer.

Goodbye, officer. We became friends after our initial encounter.

If you two ever have any legal questions you'd like to consult in the future, I'll be waiting for you at the law firm.

Upon hearing these words, the two patrol officers couldn't help but nod and raise their chins at Link politely.

In America, law firms and doctors are friends that everyone needs, including military police, police officers, and special agents.

The only reason they were persuaded to come by Link was because he was a lawyer.

The two men flicked their cigarette butts into the trash can, then walked away, clutching their walkie-talkies at their waists.

The alleyway fell silent again.

Link then turned around and walked towards the girl who was still standing there.

She was leaning against a lamppost, her arms crossed, her fingertips tucked into the sleeves of her coat.

Her eyes were already red, but perhaps due to the constraints of her family's upbringing, she did not shed any tears.

"Are you still able to walk? You don't need me to carry you, do you?"

Link asked.

The girl paused for a moment, then quickly nodded: "Yes."

"Then don't just stand there, get out of here right now."

Link lit a cigarette and turned to walk towards the street corner.

The girl paused for a moment, then quickly followed.

She followed very closely, almost half a step away, as if only in this way could she gain a sense of security.

The two walked to the corner convenience store.

The white light sign illuminated the surroundings, finally dispelling the suffocating sense of oppression from before.

He stopped and said, "Now you can talk."

"...What?"

Why are you here?

The girl lowered her head and remained silent for a few seconds.

I met them online.

"Instagram? Or TikTok?"

Her voice was a little weak: "They post a lot of videos...motorcycle riding, underground parties, graffiti, band performances."

"I thought they were just...more free."

Link smiled. "The University of Pennsylvania in the west?"

"How did you know? Weizmann Institute of Design."

The girl looked up in surprise, her expression full of confusion.

"Because only good students like you in school would mistake these things for freedom."

Link leaned against the railing outside the convenience store, slowly exhaling smoke.

Do you know what Kensington is most famous for?

Fentanyl, gangs, prostitutes, and addicts who die every day in some alley.

This isn't the ruins art you see in short videos. This is a real place where people die.

The girl's face was slightly pale.

Link didn't stop: You good girls in college always think that a life of following the rules is too boring.

But have you ever considered... the reason you dare to pursue these things is simply because you've lived too safely your whole life?

The girl's lips trembled slightly.

Link's tone remained calm:

"People who actually live in places like this don't think it's cool; they just want to escape."

The area in front of the convenience store fell silent, with only the distant sound of police sirens lingering in their ears.

She lowered her head and after a long while, she whispered, "I'm sorry, I..."

"You don't need to apologize to me."

Link said calmly, "You should be glad you had good luck tonight. The old-fashioned hero-saves-the-damsel-in-distress trope doesn't always happen so timely."

The girl suddenly felt a wave of fear as she thought about this, and unconsciously clenched her fists.

She didn't even dare to imagine what would have happened tonight without Link's help.

Seeing that she had realized her mistake, Link decided not to continue lecturing her.

My name is Link.

"Leah Henderson".

Link paused slightly; he seemed to recognize that surname.

I heard they are one of the oldest families in Pennsylvania that run charitable foundations and patronize the arts.

I don't know if they can be considered true top-tier tycoons, but in Philadelphia they definitely belong to the respectable class.

No wonder.

Link suddenly understood where that naive quality in her came from. People who are overprotected often develop a curiosity about the abyss.

"Delete the people who contacted you tonight."

Leah nodded slightly and then obediently did as she was told.

Link glanced down at her phone.

The chat logs were a mess, and contained clearly deceptive language.

It seems that anti-fraud apps can play a significant role here as well.

After watching her block those scumbags on social media, Link casually reminded her:

"In the future, when someone 'shows you true freedom'..."

You need to understand one thing first—true freedom also includes the freedom not to interfere with others.

Leah stared blankly at Link.

In that instant, she suddenly realized that the man in front of her was completely different from all the boys she had ever met before.

Those college boys and so-called high society boys talk about ideals, art, equality, and the world.

But their maturity is more like an expensive and beautiful performance, as if floating in the air.

But Link is different; he has truly seen all aspects of this world, and his maturity is deeply rooted in reality.

"Mr. Link..." she suddenly said softly.

Why did you come back?

Link glanced at her and replied with amusement:

"Have you forgotten? Because you asked for help. And I happened to run into a patrol officer."

"It's that simple?"

"Yes, because I'm a lawyer, Leah."

He said, "The moment you asked me for help, and I agreed, our client relationship was established."

The night breeze ruffled the hair on Leah's forehead, and she suddenly felt a slight tremor in her chest.

Link was about to get up and leave when Leah gently tugged at his sleeve.

She took out her wallet from another compartment, opened it, pulled out a stack of banknotes, neatly folded them, and handed them over with both hands.

Leah looked into his eyes and said:

"This is the commission fee, Mr. Link."

Thank you for being my lawyer tonight.

Link glanced down and then reached out to catch it.

As expected, after weighing the contents of the pocket, even the most indifferent person couldn't help but smile.

"Truly befitting a rich kid, so generous."

"So... if I run into trouble again in the future, can I still contact you?"

Link smiled and nodded, then took out a business card from his pocket and handed it to him: "Hurry up and contact me. Once I become famous, my lawyer fees will be very high."

Leah looked down at the rather plain business card and suddenly smiled—the first smile she had ever given that evening.

"Mr. Link, I can afford it."

"That's good."

The Uber she had called slowly pulled up to a stop on the side of the road. Leah opened the car door, but then turned back around.

She looked at Link standing under the convenience store lights.

Amidst the rich aroma of cigarettes, a face beneath an old hoodie offered a strange sense of comfort.

The car door slowly closed, and the car drove away from the intersection.

She sat in the back seat, gazing at the neon lights receding outside the window, and slowly lowered her head.

She reached out and touched her cheek, feeling the warmth that had lingered on her skin for a long time.

Are you alright?

The driver, a simple-looking middle-aged white woman, glanced at me in the rearview mirror and said, "The place was quite chaotic just now."

"I'm fine."

Leah said in a light voice, not like someone who had just recovered from a fright: "I'm fine."

She held her phone to her chest and leaned back in her chair.

The neon lights outside the window swept across her face, and her smile remained, impossible to suppress.