Shane drove the broken van, heading home slowly.
Just now in the bar, he didn't even need to ask carefully.
He just casually mentioned, "I have an acquaintance working at a construction site on the east side of town. He said they can't buy food at all during lunchtime."
As soon as he said this, it immediately caused complaints from the drunks in that area.
"More than just can't buy! Fcking no food trucks dare to stop at the gate!"
"Those vampires from the city government, the permits are expensive as hell, and they check this and that..."
"Our team now relies entirely on Old Mexican Juan's wife making a dozen extra burritos to bring over every day. The taste is okay, but eating it every day gets boring."
"The white team is even worse. They take turns driving to McDonald's two streets away. Half an hour round trip, lunch break all wasted on the road."
Shane nodded while listening, occasionally inserting a sentence like "What if someone could deliver directly to the gate?" or "How much are you generally willing to spend on lunch?"
Then, the information he wanted to know quickly came out of their mouths. For example, Latinos were the most numerous on this construction site, accounting for 40%, whites 30%, blacks 20%, and the rest were others.
And judging by their looks, most workers were willing to pay for a decent lunch.
That meant if he set up a small stall there, someone would definitely buy. And in the System, the prices of those burritos and tacos were similar to chicken rolls.
Shane relaxed, humming a little tune, and soon drove to his backyard. He parked the car, opened the door, and walked into the house.
Entering the house, the first thing he saw was the messy kitchen.
"Holy shit," Shane instantly became nervous and walked over quickly.
He knew that apart from the money he picked up, the rest of the winter funds were placed in the top wall cabinet in the kitchen. If Frank really took it, that would be a disaster.
Fck!
The kitchen was a mess.
Water stains flowed across the floor, mixed with a pile of stones and sand, crunching when stepped on.
Most glaringly, the row of wall cabinets on the wall were all wide open. The jars and cans inside, which were originally quite neat, were now rummaged through and scattered.
"Frank."
Shane gritted his teeth, squeezing out the name word by word.
The anger he had suppressed with difficulty in the bar suddenly flared up again.
He originally thought that old bastard just swiped some food, but didn't expect him to ransack the entire kitchen.
No, he definitely ransacked the whole house again!
Shane hurriedly grabbed a rag from the sink, wiped a dry patch on the stove haphazardly to make a foothold.
Then with a step and a push, he stood on the stove and reached directly for the top wall cabinet.
His fingers groped in the deepest part of the cabinet... before long, he touched the metal box containing the winter fund.
Shane grabbed it directly, dragged the box out, jumped back to the ground, and slammed the metal box onto the counter with a snap.
He opened the metal box immediately.
"Phew—still there."
A thick stack of bills lay quietly inside.
Shane directly performed a [Recharge → Withdraw] operation in the Temu System—the number didn't change.
Good, good, not a single cent missing.
Only then did he look up and glance at the crude devices on the wall cabinet again—those pulleys, thin ropes, and plastic toy soldiers.
Those things pieced together and hung on the door panel were visibly a typical Carl home defense system.
Looking down at the iron bucket and stones on the ground again, he already had the picture in his mind.
Frank wanted to go up and rummage through the cabinet, pulled the door open, and as a result, took a bucket of messy stuff, from stones to screws, all smashing down on him.
That old bastard cursed while getting hit, swinging at imaginary enemies, yelling at Carl, and finally went down to the basement in exasperation, swiped his stuff, and left with the stolen goods.
"Hahaha, looks like that little devil Carl really protected this family for once this time."
The money wasn't stolen; he breathed half a sigh of relief.
Shane went down to the basement again for a rough check. Apart from the food being obviously less, large items like the microwave and oven weren't taken by Frank.
Probably that old bastard thought they were too heavy to move, or couldn't find a channel to cash them out immediately.
He glanced at the door of his bedroom again. There were a few clear scratches around the keyhole, but no other traces.
"Good, good, good... Frank, you'd better not let me bump into you."
Before, he thought about finding a chance to beat up this old bastard to vent his anger and make him behave for a few days, and that would be it.
But now, this old thing not only thought about stealing stuff but also wanted to pry the door and break in!
Then this time, Shane fcking decided.
He was going to give Frank Gallagher, his nominal "father," a lesson he would never forget in his life.
...
Shane cleaned up the kitchen, then opened his bedroom door, lay on the bed, and fell into a deep sleep before long.
When he woke up after enough sleep, there were already some slight noises upstairs.
He checked the time; it was only past 5 PM.
The one who could come back this early should be Fiona.
Shane got up directly, got dressed, and walked up to the first floor.
Fiona was standing by the sink washing vegetables, the water running loudly.
Hearing his footsteps, Fiona looked back at him. "Hey, you didn't go to school this afternoon? How was it, the result of today's first 'battle'?"
"Not bad, better than expected." Shane yawned, walked to her side, and leaned against the wall.
"But Frank stole some of my breakfast today and resold it to Kevin."
"What?"
Fiona's hand holding the vegetable leaf paused, then she laughed again, that kind of helpless but unsurprised laugh.
"Well, if he doesn't steal something one day, I'd actually worry if he died in some corner."
She threw the vegetable into the sink and continued washing, muttering:
"Kevin too, didn't ask a few more questions about what Frank brought? Is it that hard to be a bit more vigilant? It's not like he doesn't know that what Frank can bring out is either stolen or picked up."
Fiona's tone contained more annoyance than shock. Frank stealing things was a common occurrence for her.
Shane didn't wait for her to finish complaining and continued: "He also ransacked the kitchen. Our winter fund was almost stolen by him."
This time the sound of washing vegetables stopped abruptly.
Fiona looked like someone pressed the pause button on her. It took two seconds before she looked up at Shane.
"What did you say?"
Her voice obviously raised a bit, her eyes instantly becoming sharp.
"Which sum? The one in the kitchen?"
"Yes, that sum."
Shane nodded. "He opened all the wall cabinets, but he didn't find it; the money is still there. I checked, nothing missing. He should have been caught by Carl's little trap and didn't look further."
Only then did Fiona slowly exhale, turn off the faucet, and shake the water off her hands vigorously.
She reached out and pressed her temple, as if trying to push back the dizziness that just rose up. Just now hearing that the winter fund was stolen, she really almost fainted.
If this money was really lost, how would they survive this winter? What if the electricity and gas were cut off? What if the children got sick?