The Mesmerizing Man

Chapter 5

Before Jack could dwell on it any further, the food arrived.

Truth be told, he hadn't had a decent meal since his father passed away.

The sight of the steaming dishes before him, the aroma of stir-fry filling his nostrils, made his stomach growl and his mouth water.

He was starving, but he didn't dare touch his chopsticks, only swallowing nervously.

"Eat," Michael said, picking up his own chopsticks and lightly tapping the edge of his plate.

Jack snuck a glance at Michael, who had already started eating. He then slowly reached for a pair of chopsticks and quickly shovelled a mouthful of rice into his mouth.

The familiar taste of a proper meal brought a contented smile to his face.

Observing Jack's cautious eating habits, Michael couldn't help but find him strange. However, he decided not to pry any further.

He had stopped Jack today out of necessity.

He casually glanced towards the entrance, where a figure had just hurried out.

Michael withdrew his gaze and looked back at Jack, who was still eating carefully. He shook his head slightly.

Jack ate to his heart's content, even letting out a few hiccups.

Across from him, Michael was still eating. Perhaps due to his injury, he picked at his food slowly, one hand fiddling with the lighter he had swiped from the convenience store.

Jack hesitated, unsure if he should offer to pay for the meal.

He wasn't familiar with the prices, and he didn't have much money left. But then he thought, *I'm going to die anyway. Keeping this little bit of money will only prolong it by a day or two. Might as well treat him to a meal. Consider it making a friend before I go.*

Having made up his mind, he reached for the remaining money in his pocket. But just as his fingers touched the bills, Michael put down his chopsticks, stood up with a grave expression, and said, "Let's go."

He pulled a piece of paper from the dispenser on the table, dabbed his mouth with it, and headed for the exit without looking back. "Put it on my tab."

"Okay..."

Caught off guard, Jack stood up, glanced towards the kitchen, then at Michael, who was already out the door. He quickly grabbed his bag from the table and hurried after him.

*So I don't have to pay for the meal after all.*

He hadn't expected to receive another act of kindness from this man before he died.

He jogged to catch up with Michael.

Since he rarely exercised, he was already slightly out of breath after such a short distance.

Michael, seemingly lost in thought, didn't pay much attention to him. They walked slowly back to the apartment complex and up the stairs.

Jack stole glances at Michael. *He's tall, handsome, but he has that injury on his face. What a shame.*

When they reached apartment 602, Michael took out his keys and opened the door, seemingly forgetting about Jack's presence.

"Um..." Just as the door was about to close, Jack reached out and grabbed it. "Your medicine..."

He was only this brave because he had experienced Michael's kindness. He didn't want to be a coward, especially now that he had decided to end his life.

Michael finally remembered Jack. He paused and pushed the door open. "Come in."

He did need someone to help him change his dressing.

Jack quickly entered the apartment, head lowered. Michael grabbed a pair of black slippers from the shoe cabinet and tossed them on the floor. "Wear these."

Jack quickly changed his shoes and began to discreetly observe the apartment.

It was old but tidy. The furniture and appliances within his sight were all quite worn, and there weren't many belongings. However, the floor was spotless, which surprised him.

*I thought it would be a messy place.*

"What are you standing there for? Come in." Michael was already seated on the sofa.

Jack hurriedly grabbed the bag of medical supplies and rushed over to Michael, stammering, "How... how do I do this?"

Michael glanced at him and ripped off the gauze from his face without flinching.

A red, raw wound, still oozing blood, stretched from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth, narrowly missing his lips.

Jack winced involuntarily and sat down next to Michael.

He took out the antiseptic and a cotton swab from the bag and dabbed at the wound with an untrained hand. He was extremely gentle, afraid of hurting Michael, but the other man didn't seem to react much.

He then carefully applied a new gauze dressing, trying to replicate the way the previous one had been placed.

The entire process took place in complete silence.

Once finished, Jack retreated back into his shell, lowering his head and mumbling, "Done."

To be honest, Michael wasn't fond of people like Jack. They always seemed timid and a little off, which was why he had been so curious and decided to follow him.

However, he wasn't in the mood to observe Jack any further.

He leaned back on the sofa and looked at Jack sideways. "Right, you're... Jack Thompson, is it?"

Jack nodded.

"Okay, I'm Michael Carter. Michael like Michael Jordan, Carter like Jimmy Carter." He tapped his fingers on the sofa, index, middle, ring, and pinky, one after another.

Jack stared at Michael's moving fingers, his mind filled with the name "Michael Carter."

*Michael Carter, Michael Carter. It's a nice name, just like him.*

Seeing no reaction from Jack, Michael suddenly reached out and brushed aside the hair that was falling over Jack's forehead.

The unexpected gesture caught j******f guard, and he forgot to dodge.

Beneath his bangs were a pair of wide, startled eyes.

Michael froze. He hadn't gotten a good look at Jack's face before because of his bangs. He hadn't expected him to have such beautiful eyes, so unexpectedly bright.

Jack quickly regained his senses and stood up abruptly, stammering, "O-okay."

He wanted to flee, but Michael grabbed his arm. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

*Oh, right, my bag of snacks.*

"Thank you." Jack snatched the bag from the coffee table and practically flew out of Michael's apartment.

As soon as he heard the front door close, Michael rushed to the kitchen. From a mung bean jar in the cupboard, he retrieved a small, black device the size of his thumb and clutched it in his hand.

He walked around the apartment, carefully checking every nook and cranny. The device remained silent. Relieved, Michael returned to the kitchen and carefully placed the device back into the jar, shaking it to ensure it was completely buried among the beans.

In the bedroom, he moved his desk aside and used a utility knife to pry up the floor tile near the corner where the legs of the desk usually rested.

The space beneath wasn't empty. There was a small gap against the wall, just big enough to hold a small notebook and a pen.

Michael checked the curtains and the bedroom door once more before sitting down at his desk. He flipped to a blank page in the middle of the notebook and wrote the first line.

*April 17th, Wednesday, around 7 am. David Harris took me to the underground place again.*

*The man's name is Hou Haijun, an office worker. Gambling debts.*

*New discovery: the casino is connected to the Ginza parking lot next door. The door is behind the billboard.*

*David Harris drove the man away from there. Threaten? Kill? Sell? Unknown.*

*License plate: Hai A93166. Possibly fake?*

*Also, John Miller...*

His pen paused, leaving a dark blotch on the paper.

Michael touched the gauze on his face, his lips twitching slightly. He then wrote down two words: *Pervert.*

*John Miller, p*****t, likes men. Scratched my face with his keys, deep cut, no stitches, but the doctor said it will probably scar.*

His pen hovered over the paper again. After a couple of seconds, he continued writing: *If I ever capture him, I request permission to interrogate him personally.*

He then turned to the next page.

*April 18th, Thursday. Nothing much. Stayed in the hospital all day, IV drip for the inflammation. David Harris visited once, said he would avenge me. Oh, and that kid, Robert Wilson, was with him. Relative?*

*April 19th, Friday. Discharged from the hospital. Doctor told me to go back every day to change the dressing. Too troublesome, so I took the supplies and decided to do it myself.*

*Being followed, identity unknown.*

*Ran into Jack Thompson at Xiang Xiang Supermarket while trying to shake off the tail. He's the one I suspected before, but I briefly checked his apartment on the 17th, and there was nothing unusual. Will continue to observe.*

Michael paused again and wrote down the name "Wu Ming" in the margin, then crossed it out.

He closed the notebook, placed it back into its hiding spot, and carefully returned everything to its original state.

He walked out of the bedroom, poured himself a glass of water, and drank it in one gulp. He then hung a string of bells on the doorknob before slowly walking back to his bedroom and collapsing onto his bed.

---

Jack's heart was filled with an indescribable joy.

Even though Michael's attitude towards him hadn't been particularly heartwarming, it was pure bliss to someone who had been planning to end his life.

This was the first time anyone had treated him to a meal, invited him into their home.

And then there was the supermarket owner, that nagging middle-aged woman who had made him feel strangely warm. He remembered Michael calling her Nora Perry. Maybe he could call her that next time?

The thought made Jack freeze. He unconsciously started biting the nail of his right thumb.

*Wasn't I going to die? How could there be a next time?*

Anxiety warred with a flicker of excitement. Did he want to live?

He bit down too hard, drawing blood. He quickly pulled his hand back and stared blankly ahead.

*Maybe I can postpone my suicide.*

*Maybe, just maybe, I can live?*

The thought took root in Jack's mind and grew like wildfire. For the first time in his life, he felt a powerful desire to live.

It seemed unbelievable. How could a little bit of kindness from others make him want to live?

Jack ripped open a bag of chips. Just as he was about to reach in, he pulled his hand back, rolled up the open bag, and placed it on the table.

*If I want to live, I can't waste food.*

*But even so, how long can I last like this?*

Anxiety washed over him again. He unconsciously started biting his finger, his brows furrowed. He picked up his phone, opened the browser, and typed in five words: *How to survive?*

He found plenty of motivational articles, but none of them resonated with him.

Was he sad? Not really. Lonely? A little, but not enough to die. Sick? No.

The main reason he felt like he couldn't go on: no money, no food.

He scrolled through page after page, finally landing on a piece of advice that seemed somewhat useful.

He read it silently: *1. Don't buy a house or a car if you can't afford it.* He had a place to live and didn't need a car for now. Of course, he probably couldn't even afford a car screw at the moment.

*2. Don't visit relatives and friends too often.* Well, he was an orphan now.

*3. Learn a skill if possible.* Skip.

*4. Don't touch online loans.* Skip.

*5. Pay for social security, no matter how hard it is.* Skip... skip.

*6. Don't show off in front of family and friends.* Skip.

*7. Work is tiring, but you have to do it.* Oh, right, he needed to find a job...

*But I don't know how to do anything. What kind of job can I find?*

He was back to square one. No money, no job, planning to die. If he didn't want to die, he had to find a job. But he didn't have any skills, so he couldn't find a job. So the only option was to die...

Jack turned off his phone awkwardly and looked towards the door. Should he ask for help?

Would Michael Carter help him?

He didn't dare to hope. He collapsed onto the sofa and closed his eyes dejectedly.

Gradually, sleepiness overcame him, and he drifted off.

When he woke up, his neck and back were cold. He couldn't help but sneeze loudly.

He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped his nose, pulling the small blanket from the sofa over himself.

*I can't get sick now. Otherwise, I really will die.*

Just then, there was a loud knock on the door.

Michael Carter was the first person who came to mind. Without hesitation, he rushed to open the door barefoot.

However, when he opened the door, he was greeted by a tall, well-built man with short hair.

He didn't recognize the man. Just as he was about to speak, the man frowned and asked, "Who are you?"