Chapter 1817 Taxes, Taxes, Taxes

Ah yes~...

Give us our Daily Bread. Back in Baymard, a young man sat on his seat, in an enormous Bakery, called the Royal Delight, with a ticket number in his hand. From his little corner, he could see bits of the action going on whenever the double-sided doors at the bar back, behind the counters would open with bakers rowing out more bread to stock. The mouth-watering scent intoxicating the place made Brandon's stomach gurgle. Dammit, just being here was like a punishment to his now hungry belly. Nevertheless, the punishment was worth it if it meant he would get a taste of his favorite plaited loaves. The dough is plaited and then baked. For the life of him, no matter how he tried replicating its unique lightly salted and honey-like taste, he could never do what they did. It was because of this particular specialty that he took the time to bake on Saturdays. However, his creations, though successful, were very bland, as if missing something. 'The more I stay here, the more incredulous it seems.'

Brandon stared around the bakery with relish, thinking of his current life and comparing it to his former times of suffering.

If someone had ever told him things would change so drastically, he would not believe it.

.

"Number 098."

"Here!" Brandon's feet were quick to rush forth, as he thanked and grabbed his to-go package. Opening it while leaving, Brandon took in the smell of warm bread, feeling it was the best thing ever. He then headed to a red booth at the far end of the street and threw in a few tokens in the slot. The tokens were unique, and couldn't be replicated. They could be bought anywhere in many shops and stores. Looking at the payphone, Brandon could only sigh, feeling that Baymard was the most advanced place he had ever seen in his life. Since land phones are all in their homes, should they have an urgent matter to discuss and are far away from home, the public payphones will do them well. You have no idea how many times a payphone has saved them. Calling a cab, calling the hospital, calling their jobs to say they might be running late... the list goes on. Brandon quickly placed the phone on his ear, using his shoulders to keep it steady. "What was that number again?... Oh, Stupid. How could I have forgotten there's a phone booth here?" Putting a people of warm bread into his mouth, Brandon nodded at the passersby while using the peculiar toy-like red key that fell off from the side of the Phone block (dial-area). When you place a token in, the key, connected to strange extendable wiring, also slips out. With that, you can drag the key to the pink box beside the phone block. 'Well, they think of everything.'

Wow! The last words seemed to do the trick because now, his sister was wide awake. They seemed to know everything.

This past year was her first ever getting a job in Baymard, so she had no idea how tax returns work.

"Stupid brother, are you saying I can get money back? How much are we talking about here? Enough to pay for a week's stay in Aqua World?"

"_"

...

Taxes, taxes, taxes...

Brandon quickly finished his sister's taxes, before rushing over for his appointment like crazy. As expected, when Brandon finally reached the H&R block, he immediately rolled up his sleeves, tapped the passing underneath his clothing and prepared for impact. He, Brandon, came from another small town in Carona. It wasn't long ago that he moved to his city but he had already understood its savage rules. "Worthy of its big name. As expected, It's impossible to go in so easily." Especially since today, February 6th, was the first day everyone could file their taxes.

Even if he had an appointment, it wouldn't be that easy!