“This little girl is acting like a ghost—didn’t make a sound at all.” William Carter walked over quickly, only to suddenly spot a shadow at his leg, giving him a start.

The little girl’s reaction was a bit slow. After about two seconds, she finally moved her gaze away from the detention center’s main gate and looked up at William Carter.

As soon as she looked up, it was clear how unwell she looked—her complexion was waxy and dull, dry patches on her cheeks, and there was even a faint sour smell.

But at this moment, William Carter didn’t complain about the toxic air anymore.

The little girl saw this stranger bend down, seemingly about to say something to her.

But she was a bit scared, instinctively shrinking back two steps, her back pressed against the cold stone wall, with nowhere left to retreat, looking rather pitiful.

“Do I really look like a human trafficker?” William Carter turned to ask James Bennett.

For the first time, Senior Lawyer Bennett stood on the same side as him, nodding with a proud expression.

William Carter: “……”

Get lost.

“Want to take her in?” James Bennett asked him, his tone indifferent, making it impossible to tell if it was a casual question or sarcasm.

After all, the two of them were cut from the same cloth in this regard.

William Carter let out a short laugh and straightened up. “You really have an imagination. I’m not exactly a good person.”

He jerked his chin toward a shabby street not far away. “In this place, every street has ten alleys, and every alley has people sleeping in it. You’d have to buy all of Wine City and fill it with orphanages to take them all in.”

With that, he shook the ring on his hand at James Bennett. “5022 West, maybe in the next life.”

James Bennett showed no expression. “Hard to say. Maybe you’ll be even poorer in the next life.”

William Carter: “…You’re really good at comforting people.”

“Flattered.”

“……”

“The little girl doesn’t like me. I’m leaving,” William Carter said.

The two glanced at the time—still twenty minutes to spare—then headed toward the detention center’s main entrance.

But after just a couple of steps, William Carter seemed to remember something and turned back. He reached into his coat pocket, bent down, and opened his palm in front of the little girl—a piece of chocolate lay there. “Can’t believe there’s still one left. Want it?”

The little girl, pressed against the wall, stared into his eyes for several seconds, then suddenly snatched the chocolate and shrank back.

“Starving like that but still pretty quick with your hands,” William Carter raised an eyebrow and walked away.

As he got farther, he vaguely heard a very soft voice behind him, “…should say thank you.”

William Carter glanced back. The little girl had already returned to her previous state, squatting there and staring fixedly at the detention center’s gate, as if she hadn’t seen him at all—except one cheek was puffed out, stuffed with candy.

“One shuttle trip takes fifteen hours. You barely touched your meal, but you sure didn’t skimp on the sweets,” James Bennett said.

William Carter replied matter-of-factly, “Small, frequent meals. Sweets count as meals too.”

Actually, he was a bit hypoglycemic now. He wasn’t sure if it was a side effect of sleeping too long or a temporary genetic adjustment, but in any case, he needed to keep some sugar on him in case he got dizzy.

Of course, he clearly couldn’t tell James Bennett the real reason, so he just made something up.

The detention center’s massive, fortress-like doors were tightly locked, with several guards standing by.

James Bennett walked up to the electronic lock and tapped it with the smart device on his pinky. All pre-approved visits were synced to the lock, and once the smart device’s identity verification passed, entry was granted.

Beep—

The main door buzzed and slowly creaked open.

This door was probably the most advanced thing in the area, donated decades ago by some overfed consortium. Back then, that consortium had propped up Wine City’s government, practically giving the whole unlucky planet a facelift, as if determined to help with governance.

The dream was good, but reality was a bit grim.

Anyway, the consortium had since become a fallen aristocracy, and all those things they’d donated had gone from new to old.

Inside the detention center, it was dim and cramped. The corridors were always narrow, the windows even smaller, creating a heavy sense of oppression—but it wasn’t quiet.

This one in Wine City was especially chaotic, filled with shouting, cursing, and all kinds of foul language. All that noise was sealed behind narrow doors, with no specific target, attacking indiscriminately.

William Carter walked down the long corridor, his ancestors for eight generations getting dragged into it, but he was used to it and walked with particular ease.

Outside an iron-barred gate, a burly guard stood holding a stun baton. “Who are you here to see?”

William Carter smiled. “Lawyer, with an appointment, here to see Joshua Dale.”

James Bennett, who had just opened his mouth: “……”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Dale? You people really have patience.”

He gave a laugh with an unclear meaning, not quite mockery, not quite anything else.

William Carter replied smoothly as ever, “Yeah, I think so too.”

James Bennett: “……”

The guard snorted, turned, and beckoned them in, opening the iron gate. “Come on, follow me.”

Elsewhere, minors and adults were usually separated. But here in Wine City, they were all mixed together.