On the other side, Director Johnson stood outside the restaurant for a mont after the eting, smoked two cigarettes, gritted his teeth, and drove to Mike’s house.
Mrs. Mike had finished her hospital treatnt; her bruises and external injuries had completely healed. What remained was psychological treatnt, which could last from three to six months depending on the situation, or potentially even longer.
The long psychological course also ant significant financial expenses. Mike had paused his work, suddenly cutting off the family’s entire inco.
Although there was still so money in his bank account, about a little over twenty thousand dollars, it wasn’t enough to cover the upcoming various expenses.
In fact, psychological treatnt, in the eyes of ordinary people, especially the poor living in Lower City, was considered a typical rich person’s ailnt. The girls living in the chaotic streets of Lower City almost grew up amidst various forms of harassnt.
From verbal harassnt to minor behaviors of harassnt, they might even face situations of violent harassnt. Logically speaking, these people should have turned deviant or self-destructive, yet it’s not entirely so.
Indeed, so have headed towards self-destruction, but there are still those who live strong and optimistic lives.
Pain can wound people, but it can also give soone the courage to strive for strength. Only when in darkness would one long more for the light — but all these are nonsense. Life is just being alive, and living requires strength.
When Director Johnson parked his car outside Mike’s house, he saw a police car on the roadside and two policen having afternoon tea.
They only cast a glance at Director Johnson before withdrawing their gaze, focusing their attention on dealing with the sweet coffee and chocolate-covered donuts in their hands.
Although Mike had left the Police Station, he was still under surveillance. He was not allowed to leave his residence unnecessarily or communicate with outsiders alone.
However, considering he once had a "license," the police slightly relaxed their supervision. He was allowed to speak with others without the need for an officer to be present.
Director Johnson had visited Mike’s ho more than once, having been there several tis. Each ti, he felt that Mike was fairly lucky, having a happy family and harmonious career with the whole room filled with a sense of vibrant, good life.
But this ti, the mont he pushed the door open, a wave of decaying sll like that from a grave poured out from the room, unpleasant, instantly dropping one’s mood to rock bottom.
The room had no lights on, and so windows were covered with curtains, possibly due to Mrs. Mike’s ntal health issues; Mike was shrouded in darkness.
The door opened, and outdoor light shone inside, illuminating the room slightly, making it possible to see more details.
Mike sat on the sofa, looking gaunt; he was visibly much thinner compared to half a month ago, with his whole body appearing sowhat deford from thinness.
A sloppy face with grizzled stubble made him look very untidy, especially his unkempt hair, which already had so gray. Ti seed to fast forward over him by a small segnt, making him prematurely enter old age.
Mike glanced at Director Johnson, only a glance, then withdrew his gaze to continue staring at the unopened TV screen, possibly lost in thought.
A surge of anger rose from Director Johnson’s feet. In the Tax Bureau, he was considered quite approachable. He thought he would get along well with everyone, but looking at soone like Mike, it was infuriating.
Not to ntion the potential to insult one’s dignity with inferiority, at least he should have shown so gratitude or thankfulness. When he encountered trouble, here he was, the Director, coming to visit him, yet he treated him like air.
Soon, that surge of anger disappeared. If he were genuinely angry, he might have been driven to his death by these people a long ti ago.
"Why are you here?" Mike’s tone carried a hint of mockery, "To deliver the final verdict to ?"
Director Johnson was montarily stunned, then his gaze was drawn to several newspapers on the coffee table; he knew what the problem was.
Recently, the newspapers had been discussing whether there were personal vendettas between Mike and Lynch and whether Mike might have used public office for private revenge.
Using public office for private revenge had no relation to enforcent power, remaining isolated events. On the contrary, Mike’s vendetta influenced the tax and law enforcent departnts. The harsher the dia attacks against these departnts before, the more apologies there would be thereafter.
Moreover, so people connected Mike, little Michael, and Lynch with a past theft report Lynch had made.
Mike was a ntally and physically well individual with a clear view of the world and independent thinking abilities. He knew well that when the dia trend started to shift, it ant soone was pushing it from behind.
Obviously, the dia wanted to set him up as a bad example. They couldn’t do this themselves since their target was the issue of enforcent power.
What could make them change was certain people behind them wanting to abandon him. This was Mike’s realization over the past two days, causing him to show a resistant attitude towards Director Johnson.
Director Johnson maintained silence, not knowing how to start. This silence quickly intensified Mike’s inner disappointnt and despair, making him keenly aware he wasn’t scaring himself, that everything had been fulfilled, and he had been abandoned.
A sudden itch in his throat, his voice instantly beca hoarse, as if there were sand in his throat, with noticeable grittiness in every word and letter.
"Why?"
He turned his head, looking at Director Johnson, "Why is it like this? Whose decision is it?"
Director Johnson’s face flushed slightly red; he sighed, "A decision from above, you’ve made the entire system very passive..."
"You toss aside when it’s inconvenient?" Mike beca agitated as he spoke, his face flushed rapidly, with white foamy saliva appearing at the corners of his mouth, hair standing with rage, his ntal state seed off.
Facing Mike’s outburst, Director Johnson suddenly cald down, his emotions stable and his look changing, making Mike a bit unable to understand, even a bit afraid.
"You’ve always been impulsive, with a bad temper. I’ve ntioned this to you more than once..." Director Johnson’s voice carried a hint of reminiscence for old tis, "Since I beca director, over these ten-plus years, complaints against you alone have occupied more than half of the entire Sabin City’s Tax Bureau’s complaint inbox."
"You like to threaten investigative targets, act randomly, casually insult or humiliate others, and often act without proper procedures. You have too many issues..."
Johnson earnestly looked at Mike, "Don’t feel wronged; this is what you deserve. I’ve warned you, but you always acted your own way!"
"The tis have changed; it’s a new era. Our society advances every year. Perhaps we hadn’t washed off our wildness and brutality in the past, but we’ve achieved that now."
"Even if you didn’t encounter Lynch, you would have t soone like Chi or Maiqi. If you don’t change yourself, you will fall."
"Don’t say we abandoned you; it’s you who abandoned yourself!"
Director Johnson’s words made Mike calm down again, turning dejected. He held his head in pain; he actually knew Director Johnson was right, but once ford, such work style was hard to change.
No, it should be said that it’s the ingrained concept. In Mike’s view, criminals had no human rights. He indeed also solidified his thoughts through several individuals like mugshots.
As long as he didn’t kill them, they would pretend nothing happened because they weren’t clean initially and didn’t dare to talk outside, only silently enduring.
Until he encountered Lynch, a criminal who used the law and police as weapons; he completely fell.
He couldn’t understand why it had to be Lynch, why it had to be him, why it had to be his family; that bastard didn’t follow the rules!
At this mont, a door upstairs opened, and Mrs. Mike, with a hint of sickness on her face, worriedly stood by the corridor, looking at the two n in the downstairs living room with concern.
Director Johnson glanced back and lightly patted Mike’s shoulder, giving a slight squeeze...
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