CHAPTER 420: CHAPTER 260 ENTRUSTMENT_3

The next moment...

A ringing filled his ears.

It was as if time had stopped. Everything distorted. Dizziness and nausea swept over him, causing the physically feeble Dean to lose consciousness...

...

In the coma, fragmented information, like scenes from a movie, flashed through Dean’s consciousness:

My name is Dean, 35 years old, an insignificant private detective.

I lived in squalor.

My professional skills were poor, and this country was very unsafe. Consequently, I only took on cases helping employers seduce their wives and guide them toward divorce, aiming to minimize the financial losses for my clients.

I’d contemplated becoming a gigolo, or maybe even a bounty hunter.

But to be a gigolo, you need a good gun.

My gun used to be good, but it was no longer young; it couldn’t withstand the long-term ravaging and wear from those female sharpshooters.

To be a bounty hunter, you need agile skills.

I was a refined man; the sight of photos of dead bounty hunters put me off the idea.

Forget it.

Seducing women was more my thing.

Those women, deprived of their husbands’ attention, preferred emotional fulfillment; trying out ’firearms’ came second.

I could still handle that.

Until this day.

A little girl sought me out.

She looked destitute. She wore an ill-fitting, faded T-shirt and jeans, and struggled along in a pair of fluffy slippers she’d probably scavenged from somewhere. She was attempting to hire me with 100 Mexican Pesos to find her missing sister.

Heh.

100 Mexican Pesos... barely enough to buy two large hot dogs.

To the girl, this might have seemed like a fortune, but frankly, hiring me for that amount was an insult!

My rate was at least one hundred large hot dogs a pop!

But then...

She told me it was all she had—her monthly allowance, her everything—and that I was her last hope...

I don’t know what came over me.

Perhaps it was the first time in my numb life that someone had deemed me so important!

A man in his thirties, duped by the words of a nine-year-old girl.

I agreed to take the case.

The little girl’s name was Sofia. She was nine years old and had relied on her sister, Eliza, for survival, living in the chaotic Hassa District.

That place was filled with small gangs and street kids struggling to get by.

Cheap, underage prostitutes and small gambling dens were the hallmarks of that community, drawing in some poor tourists from the United States looking for thrills.

Sofia said her sister, Eliza, worked as a maid, earning a meager salary to support them both.

Although I knew Sofia’s sister was actually working as a prostitute, I still planned to drop by the maid agency first to get more information.

The Hassa District was unsafe.

Before heading there, I decided to get a handgun for protection from my good buddy Toby.

When I arrived at Toby’s place, I was dumbfounded.

What the hell happened here?

Bodies everywhere!

Toby was dead!

He’d been killed with a shotgun in the living room. His body had slid down the wall, leaving a large bloodstain.

His wife was dead too!

His wife lay dead in the bathroom. Bullets had shattered the bathtub, and bloody water covered the floor.

His daughter and son were also dead...

Just as I was at my wit’s end, a group of cops charged in. They didn’t give me a chance to explain before a gunstock smashed towards me!

Damn it!

These bastards... they wanted to use me to pad their stats!

In the last moments of consciousness, I thought about my farewell with Sofia:

"Dean, when can you help me find my sister?" A gaunt little girl nervously eyed her fluffy slippers and murmured in a soft voice, "Sofia can’t pick through trash fast enough to beat the bigger kids. If my sister doesn’t come back soon, Sofia’s afraid she won’t last until sister returns..."

...

The memory fragments. They ended abruptly here.

Dean slowly opened his eyes, emerging from the coma.

He felt somewhat bewildered, and his head ached a little.

So... the mission this time is actually to find Sofia’s missing sister, Eliza. But this parallel world’s Dean was out of luck. He died before he could even start. Before he could act, he’d been framed to pad their stats and sent to prison...

Key information, according to the panel, indicated that in this world, the original Dean had probably died in this prison before even starting the mission.

Considering what I encountered as soon as I arrived, I don’t dare to think any further. This parallel world’s Dean had it too rough!

...

First, I need to understand this prison, then kill that fat guy, and finally break out and complete the commission this body failed to finish!

Dean immediately determined his next course of action.