After chatting with the detective for a bit, max had also relaxed considerably. He realised that the old man had a soft spot for children and young adults. Perhaps that was why he had treated Klein so nicely. Either ways, Max realised that the Old Man had been trying his best to shift Max's attention from trying to become a stronger Beyonder since Max told him about how it was fully his own choice to become a Beyonder and that he knew exactly what he was getting involved in.
Unfortunately, after around an hour of trying the Old Man sighed with a hint of resentment and pulled out his pipe, that had long been extinguished due to lack of whatever it was he was smoking and got up.
He brought Max to another room where a white sheet was placed on the wall and a camera was placed on a stand in front of it.
"Stand in front of the white background. Don't worry, only your head and chest will be visible in the photograph."
After having his eyes nearly blinded by the explosive flash, Max and Isengard returned to the living room where Max initiated the discussion after having a glass of water.
"So, who am I?" Max asked.
"Well, you are Max. Max Verstappen. I did not change your name. But you were adopted by the Black Family due to their inability to produce children. The family now consisted of you and your foster parent; Bruce Black and Dianna Black. A few years after adopting you, the couple died of old age peacefully, with all their assets being transferred to you."
"However, you did not wish to continue living in Tingen with their memory still haunting you there, so you sold everything and came to Backlund to start anew under the name of Max Verstappen. How much money do you have?"
Max's eyebrow twitched at the name of his parents in the background created by the old man, a detail that was picked up by the detective who just assumed Max did not wish to disclose the details about his financial situation.
"Somewhere between 500 Pounds and 5,000 pounds."
"…That- that is quite the sum. Are you sure you got this money legally? Otherwise, I will have to create a new background for you."
"My old man was peacefully living his life, so I can only assume he got it legally. Else the government officials would have already arrested him." Max shrugged. He knew that it was incredibly hard for individuals to backtrack physical money, even more so in this era of steam and machinery.
Of course, there was the odd chance that Beyonders would be able to do so, but by the time the official Beyonders tried to investigate him, he should have earned enough money to control some things within the political circle of Backlund and help him escape such things.
"Anyways, here is your payment ol- I mean detective Isengard," Max said while pulling out a few 1-pound notes and handing them to the detective.
"Oh yes, Detective, do you perhaps know of a Lawyer I could hire to help me come up with a contract?"
Detective Isengard accepted the payment and asked. "What kind of contract."
"Well, I intend on purchasing a part of a shop and turning it into a chain of shops all over Backlund. I need something legal such that I can later sell it to someone who is much more… ambitious and capable to take over and handle the business."
"A legal document for an investment huh, I know a guy." He said, taking out a yellow piece of paper and writing down a name and an address.
"He should be available today, but if you want, he should be available after two days as well. Though I am not too sure about it since the last time I had a chat with him was a fortnight ago, and his schedule may have changed."
"Thank you." Max bowed his head slightly, but then looked back at the old man.
"Do you know of a way I can hide the fact that I am a Beyonder from others? Especially the Official Beyonders?"
This time, the old man remained silent for quite some time. He then shook his head.
"I am sorry, but I do not possess such items or abilities. However, as long as you do not use your abilities in front of other Beyonders, as long as they are not too high of a Sequence, they should not be able to determine if you are truly a Beyonder or not. Even for me, I only realised you were a Beyonder because of the Sword of yours. Young lad, you'd be better off disposing of it as soon as you can, since any Beyonder, even at Sequence 9 can recognise it as a Beyonder artefact. What kind is not easily determined, but it affects the Spirituality around it to the point everyone who sees it in close proximity will know that it is a Beyonder item."
"Alright. Thank you either way."
Max nodded and finally stood up.
"I will be heading straight to your lawyer friend and try and work things out with him before renting a house in the Hillston Borough. I will mail you the address once I settle down, and you can send over my documents to the address. Though, do you have a better form of communication? A more… secure kind?" Max asked while turning around as he put on his grey double-breasted jacket.
"Max… how many times do I have to tell you that you are better off not getting involved in this world."
"Too late detective. I'm already involved. Can't go back now! Anyways, you didn't answer my question."
"No. No, I do not. I also suggest you do not get a messenger since the Spirit world is a place where the stronger Beyonders keep a close eye on it. If you want to survive, I suggest you stick to normal communication."
"And what would happen if say, I were to have to escape Backlund for some reason? What then? How would I communicate with you? Wait for months on end for you to receive a letter by mail, with the odd chance of it being misplaced along the way or damaged?"
"Ok, how about this. I will give you the ritual to call my messenger, but you can only make use of it in either an emergency or when you are not in Backlund."
"Thanks!" Max said, lowering his head once again. Isengard had also helped him a lot. The money he had paid him was more of just a gesture, and Max also knew it. Creating a proper identity from scratch did not just include bribing a few officials, but involved using your connections at a much higher level in the hierarchy to push things along and fabricate things out of nothing. It would have cost a whole lot more than just a few pounds, and Max knew it.
'It seems as though I have a thing for ending up being helped by old or ageing people…' Max thought to himself before bidding the old man farewell.
Leaving Detective Isengard's house, Max headed straight for the Lawyer's office. Or at least that was where he thought he was going until the address led him straight to a home, similar to the aging detective's own.
And just like the detective, the lawyer also had his office and house in the same house, combined into one for convenience and comfort., though it made one seem less professional. Thus, this person was either an incredible amateur at being a lawyer, or a highly decorated one whose name alone should bring enough weight with it. Considering that Detective Isengard Stanton had recommended him, Max assumed it was the latter and prepared himself.
The person who opened the door was an incredibly young man, perhaps 15 or 16 years old. He was wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses which seemed a tad bit too large for his slender and child-like face that was unblemished with facial hair. His silver eyes looked at Max with an almost impossible amount of curiosity and naivety.
"Yes?" He asked in a slightly childlike voice.
"Do you perhaps know a Mr. Eckhart? I was sent here to meet him."
"That would be me."
"I see, could you please tell him that-"
"…"
"…"
"Ahem, I am sorry for that. My name is Max, Max Verstappen. I was sent here by a referral from Detective Isengard." Max said with an apologetic smile on his face, trying his best to hide his confusion at the odd situation. Suddenly, the situation became even worse than before.