The drive took almost two hours before the car finally slowed to a stop near the edge of a busy town. The na written on the welco board read, "Crestwood."
Jason stepped out of the taxi, shut the door behind him, and paid the driver before standing still for a mont to take in the view.
He placed both hands in his pockets and looked around.
"Well, let us get down to business."
***
The streets stretched wide and immaculate, bordered by towering buildings that glead under the late morning sun. Vehicles moved in a slow yet steady stream, while pedestrians crossed at every junction carrying bags, phones, and steaming coffee cups. School students in vivid uniforms walked in small groups, laughing and conversing animatedly as they made their way toward a nearby bus stop.
Jason surveyed everything with quiet attentiveness.
For the first ti since his arrival in this world, he was witnessing n again, regardless of age or station. There were n in tailored business suits, others in casual attire, and so working in shops or seated at restaurant terraces. The sight felt peculiar at first, almost like encountering a species once believed to be extinct. It was not an emotional reaction, yet it evoked a strange sense of equilibrium within him.
A world populated entirely by won had beco his norm, even though he had not spent a full month in this realm. So, seeing the opposite half of the population again in another town made him feel as though he had crossed into a different dinsion or perhaps returned to his forr mundane existence.
He allowed the thought to drift away and drew out his phone. The branch address was listed under Crestwood Central Bank, situated on Rilford Avenue.
He typed it into the map application, but the network connection was sluggish, and the location marker refused to load completely.
He frowned slightly and turned toward the passing crowd.
’Shit... It wouldn’t hurt to ask, anyway.’
He approached a woman standing beside a coffee stall. She wore a cream-colored suit and sunglasses, idly scrolling through her phone while sipping from a paper cup. She appeared to be around his age, perhaps a recent graduate who had barely managed to make it out of college.
Composedly, Jason greeted her and said:
"Excuse , do you happen to know where Crestwood Central Bank is?"
She looked up from her screen and studied him briefly. Her gaze swept over his attire — the tailored black trousers, the neatly pressed cream shirt, and the refined watch on his wrist.
"Crestwood Central?" she repeated thoughtfully. "I believe it’s a few blocks that way."
She gestured vaguely down the street and offered a polite smile.
"I’m not entirely sure, though. Sorry."
Jason inclined his head slightly.
"No problem. Thank you."
He proceeded in the direction she had indicated.
After walking a short distance without finding the place, he stopped once more near a fruit stall operated by an elderly woman.
"Good morning, madam. Would you happen to know where Crestwood Central Bank is located?"
The woman wiped her hands on a cloth and smiled warmly.
"The bank? Hmm. I’m afraid not, young man. You might want to ask soone closer to the station. I think I’ve heard the na, but I can’t quite place it."
Jason thanked her, then continued onward, his steps steady and composed. Every few ters, he stopped to ask soone new. So gave him vague directions, while others admitted they had never heard of it. Most of them, however, paused longer than usual, clearly taking in the sight of a sharply dressed young man with an expensive watch and an aura that suggested he didn’t belong to the ordinary crowd, though in a forr life, he certainly did.
Finally, he approached a man seated on a bench near a pharmacy. The man appeared to be a local laborer, dressed in a simple shirt and cap, his hands coated with a fine layer of dust.
Jason asked the sa question, and this ti, the man responded without hesitation.
"Funny. You’re standing just a few ters away from it," the man said with a small grin. "Keep walking straight past the corner, and you’ll see a tall glass building with a blue logo. That’s Crestwood Central. Hard to miss once you turn the bend."
Jason gave a faint smile.
’Finally! Ugh, I have walked a lot,’ he thought with irritation as he recalled the discomfort from minutes earlier.
Calmly, he replied to the man:
"That’s very helpful. Thank you."
"No trouble," the man chuckled. "It’s my bank too. They’re good people over there."
Jason inclined his head once more and continued forward. As he rounded the bend, the building ca into view exactly as described. It towered several stories high, its sleek glass facade gleaming beneath the sunlight. The blue and silver logo above the main entrance read Crestwood Central Bank. The front steps were broad and polished, occupied by a modest flow of people entering and exiting.
He slowed his pace as he approached the doors, observing the reflective glass walls that mirrored the movent of the crowd. Through them, he could see the bright interior, with well-lit counters, uniford attendants, and neatly arranged stations. Everything about the place radiated an air of modern sophistication and quiet affluence.
Jason stepped forward and pushed through the entrance. The interior was more refined than he had expected. Marble floors stretched before him and soft classical music played faintly in the background. Digital screens displayed exchange rates and service offers while a large chandelier hung overhead, catching the light in a brilliant gleam.
The attendants behind the counter straightened slightly when they saw him. His appearance drew a few subtle glances, not simply because he was unfamiliar but because of his attire. He carried himself with a calm authority that did not quite fit the expression of an average client, too.
He approached the reception desk where a young woman in a navy uniform greeted him with a professional smile.
"Good morning, sir. Welco to Crestwood Central Bank. How can I assist you today?"
Jason placed his phone on the counter and looked at her with quiet confidence.
"I was invited to et the branch manager. My na is Jason... Jason Brown."
Her face showed a flicker of recognition as she navigated her computer.
"Yes, Mr. Jason. We’ve been expecting you. Please wait a mont while I notify the manager of your arrival."
She made a brief phone call in a courteous and formal manner, then nodded toward him again.
"The manager will see you shortly, sir. You can take a seat in the waiting area just behind you."
Jason nodded once and turned toward the area she indicated. The chairs were neatly arranged near a long glass wall that looked out onto the street. He settled in comfortably, resting one arm on the chair’s armrest as his mind raced through the reasons he might have been summoned in person. The company that had transferred the funds still troubled him. If the authorities decided to investigate, he could be in serious trouble.
...But he trusted that the system would have so way to handle it, at least based on what he’d learned from reading many Webnovels and webtoons.
He kept his worry hidden, maintaining a neutral expression as he leaned back slightly and stared at the frosted glass door marked Manager’s Office.
’Alright.’
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