Of course, this didn't mean Morin planned to become a small-time IRS employee, relying on scraps of money to slowly grind experience points.
This was a spy world.
If he was going to touch gray income, he would go big.
For example-taxing terrorists.
The phone store earlier was just coincidence. The clerk happened to run into Morin at a time when he was looking for something to test. So naturally, he became the unlucky one.
Now that Morin had confirmed gray income counted toward experience points, how could he possibly be satisfied with pocket change that earned little and invited unnecessary trouble?
He waved down a taxi and headed straight for the Langley City Tax Bureau. The system had already arranged a position nearby, and he was scheduled to start work that very day.
Strictly speaking, Morin had just used his badge to extort money from the phone store owner.
But there was no misunderstanding here.
That owner had evaded far more taxes over the years.
And although Morin hadn't officially started yet, the badge still represented authority. If he had seriously investigated, the shop would have been shut down on the spot, with fines heavy enough to bankrupt the owner.
This wasn't exaggeration.
IRS agents did this all the time.
Otherwise, how would they have earned such a reputation?
After completing the onboarding process, Morin was assigned his first role.
In the tax bureau, employees could roughly be divided into two types.
Desk clerks dared to investigate anyone.
Field agents dared to investigate anything.
Morin was assigned as a field agent and placed into a team.
"So... Morin. Can I call you that?" Duke asked while driving.
"Of course," Morin nodded.
"Alright, Morin. Since it's your first day, I'll introduce you to the job and help you get familiar with the environment," Duke said, scratching his head.
Despite only looking to be in his thirties or forties, his hairline was already receding.
Long bangs hid most of it.
But whenever the wind blew...
Duke hated the wind.
"First, we'll find you a place to live. After that, we wait for assignments," Duke continued.
"Usually there isn't much to do. Most of it's trivial. We're generally pretty relaxed."
Morin nodded, glancing at Duke's hair.
He didn't look relaxed.
"Those trivial things can be exhausting," Duke added. "And in this line of work, retaliation is always a concern."
"Don't doubt it. Some people are crazy enough to attack government officials. If that happens, don't hesitate. If you suspect they're armed, you're allowed to shoot in self-defense."
Duke was teaching him about workplace 'freedom.'
"Oh. I see," Morin replied.
"By the way, your gun license is being processed. It should be approved tomorrow. We have a dedicated training range. You can practice whenever you're free. Your assigned firearm will be issued once the license clears."
"For now, you'll follow me to get familiar with future work," Duke said. "But first, housing."
Morin listened casually.
The two of them weren't from the same world.
Morin hadn't come here to be a small-time tax employee.
He was here to do big things.
So just over ten days later, Morin was promoted after successfully taking down a drug dealer and collecting a massive amount of fines and back taxes.
That's right.
The IRS had the authority to tax illegal income-drug trafficking included.
And the rate was far higher than for legal income.
This was part of what made the IRS legendary.
There had once been a notorious drug lord in Chicago the FBI couldn't touch due to lack of evidence.
The IRS reviewed his records.
No tax payments.
He didn't pay taxes?
Alright.
Let's get him.
An agent went undercover, gathered evidence, and the drug lord was eventually arrested-not for drugs, but for tax evasion.
Almost all his assets were confiscated.
A classic legend.
Not long after, Morin solved several major "tax evasion" cases of his own.
He became another IRS legend.
By then, nearly a year had passed since he arrived in this world.
...
Almost a year later.
Inside an office.
"Time off?" Morin's superior, Chris, asked. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," Morin replied. "Long-term combat against crime has kept my mind in constant tension. My mental stress is too high. If this continues, I may develop psychological issues. I need therapeutic relaxation."
"Nerve tension? High mental stress?" Chris looked puzzled.
"...Is there something wrong with that reason?"
"Are you talking about the stress from dating five female colleagues at the same time and getting exposed?"
"Or using a drug dealer's money to stay in the most luxurious hotel in Dubai for a month?"
"Or the time we watched a Hollywood movie and saw you in it, stealing the spotlight from the lead actor?"
Morin's mouth twitched.
He didn't look embarrassed.
"A bit of all of them," he admitted.
"Fine." Chris shook his head. "I don't know what you're planning, but Morin, try to restrain yourself. Everything you've done so far is technically within the rules, but I don't want to bail you out if you cross the line."
"You can trust me to handle my own business," Morin said, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, even if I break the law, who's catching me?"
"That's true," Chris nodded. Then he leaned in and lowered his voice. "I heard you slept with a beautiful female FBI agent last time. How was it?"
Morin fell silent.
He thought carefully.
For a long time.
"...What? Was it bad?"
"No," Morin replied slowly.
"I'm just trying to figure out which one you're talking about."