Chapter 44: There Are No Benefits to Hoarding Everything for Yourself (Please Add to Favorites!)

“You’re back quickly, Roan.” In the office of the leader of Investigation Team Five, August sat in his chair, his belly protruding as he sipped his coffee. He gestured for Roan to take a seat and grinned widely. “So, how was it? Did Verinis’ review scare you?”

“Not at all,” Roan replied, pouring himself a cup of coffee and taking a sip. “It was just a simple inquiry into my family background. My life’s history is clear and traceable, so there’s nothing to fear.”

“Oh?” August was taken aback. Only a background inquiry, without any rigorous psychological or lie detection tests? He fell silent for a moment, unable to understand why Verinis would give Roan such special treatment.

Forget it, it’s not important. August pushed the thought aside, put down his coffee cup, and smiled at Roan. “The Darrens went to the hospital for a check-up today. Around noon, they sent someone to tell me that tomorrow they’ll be coming by to deliver the reward. They hope you’ll be present.”

“No problem,” Roan replied brightly, agreeing without hesitation. When it came to money, he’d never be late.

“Excellent.” August nodded approvingly, then picked up a blue folder from his desk and handed it to Roan.

Why does this scene feel so familiar? Roan arched an eyebrow, opened the folder, and found a written statement confirming his bonus would be doubled.

“Sir?”

“It’s like this, Roan. Your performance last night really impressed a lot of people, and everyone is very satisfied with you.” August took a small sip of coffee, smiling as he explained. “I wanted to promote you to Senior Agent, but you’ve only been a full agent for less than three days. If I submitted the paperwork, it wouldn’t be approved. But you won’t be overlooked—a double bonus for you this month.”

“Thank you, sir!” Roan signed his name—Roan Greenwood—in his usual handwriting, then did a quick calculation and smiled at August. “By the way, sir, I don’t think it’s right for me to claim the entire one hundred thousand dollar reward for taking down Frazer; every agent in Team Five contributed. How about this—I take fifty thousand, and the other fifty thousand gets split among everyone else?”

There’s no benefit in taking everything for oneself. That was a lesson Roan had learned from an old assassin in his previous life.

When he was young, the old assassin had seen many talented people in the underworld finish a job, then slit their teammates’ throats and run off with all the money for themselves. But few of those people survived to the end—most were stabbed in the back at a critical moment, dying without so much as a whole corpse.

Roan agreed with the old assassin’s philosophy. Across the ages, countless people have paid with their lives to teach this lesson: those who hoard everything for themselves never get far; cooperation and mutual benefit are the true keys to success.

If you get the meat, you must let your teammates have the soup. Otherwise, you’ll end up isolated and betrayed in the end.

During the hunt for the serial killer Frazer, every member of Team Five had helped Roan, so he had to share the bounty. Otherwise... human nature is unpredictable. Team Five was Roan’s home base, and he didn’t want to get stabbed in the back over money.

Hearing this, August narrowed his eyes slightly. “Are you sure, Roan? A hundred thousand dollars is no small sum—are you really going to give away half?”

“Of course!” Roan nodded with a smile. This bit of money didn’t matter; what mattered was not holding anyone back and having teammates willing to support him at critical moments. With teammates like those, he could earn much more in the future.

“Well, it’s your money, you decide.” August shrugged indifferently, waved the folder to show the matter was settled, and gestured for Roan to leave.

“Oh, right.” Just as Roan was getting up and heading for the door, August slapped his forehead and called out, “You can deliver the news to everyone yourself.”

Roan turned back to give August a thoughtful look, a glint flashing in his eyes and a smile curling his lips. “Understood, sir.”

With that, he opened the office door and strode out.

Clap, clap, clap—

Through the open office door, August saw the agents bursting into applause and cheers as Roan made the announcement that there’d be an extra payout this month. August’s dark face broke into a wide grin as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

“Sir, just as I suspected, Roan is as smart as I am—he didn’t try to keep the reward for himself.” August chuckled. The person on the other end of the line said only a brief “mm” and hung up.

Hearing the busy tone, August’s smile grew even wider.

—

In the office area, the clapping and cheering gradually subsided. After expressing their gratitude to Roan, the agents returned to their desks at his suggestion and resumed their usual routine... of slacking off.

“Hey, Roan.” Back at her desk, Mona gave Roan a big hug, beaming with joy. “Thank you so much! Now I can pay my apartment loan this month, and there’s enough left over to put a down payment on a new car!”

“Er... you’re welcome.” Roan opened his mouth, thought better of it, and said nothing more. It seemed that Americans weren’t in the habit of saving—spend when you have it, borrow against tomorrow when you don’t. That was just how life was here.

“Roan!” Nearby, Lacey had already begun her daily routine of napping at her desk. Ryder, all smiles, squeezed past her and slapped Roan on the shoulder. “Got plans after work? Why not come by my wife’s gun shop? Maybe you could show me your pen-spinning trick!”

“Gun shop?” Roan pulled over an empty chair and gestured for Ryder to sit—he was too tall, and Roan’s neck hurt trying to look up at him. Then Roan asked curiously, “Is it your parents’ shop?”

“No, my wife runs it—it’s in Queens.” Ryder shook his head, saying he’d been married for five years. His wife was a former NYPD officer who left the force after an injury and married him. They had a son who was in elementary school.

Roan: “...” Given that Ryder was thirty-eight, it made sense he had a wife and child. He looked Ryder over—massive, explosive muscles, ex-SWAT, with a wife who was also a former cop. Running a gun shop suited them perfectly.

Seeing the hope in Ryder’s eyes, Roan nodded and was about to agree—he was free after work anyway, and bonding with colleagues over some target practice could only help. It was a good chance to improve his own marksmanship, too.

At that moment, Roan’s phone rang.

He picked it up, frowning slightly at the unknown number. He pressed “answer,” and a lazy, sultry female voice came through the receiver: “Roan, can you come by after work? I need your help with something.”

Roan raised an eyebrow. The manager of the ‘Flame Queen’ bar, Lydia?