Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!

After getting used to it,

he began sniffing around in his own apartment.

Inside the apartment, the most prevalent scent was the one emitted by his own body, besides that, there were various objects, with smells that were normally undetectable.

Moreover, Brian discovered,

perhaps due to the lack of ventilation,

he could smell the distinct body odors and perfume scents left behind by women who had stayed the night on his bed, although the scents were much fainter than those in the bathroom.

You should know,

it had been seven or eight days since he last took on a part-time job.

Such a long time.

Even if the scents hadn't completely dissipated due to lack of ventilation, they should have been very faint by now.

Yet they couldn't escape Brian's keen sense of smell.

That meant he was now equivalent to a dog with human intelligence and discernment abilities.

Hey.

Pretty useful.

Brian remembered that a dog's sense of smell could detect scents several hundred meters away to track their prey or avoid wild animals.

Doesn't that mean he could rely on this ability to transform into a radar?

As soon as the thought struck him, he acted!

Taking advantage of the early hour,

Brian changed clothes and hurried out of the neighborhood, arriving on the streets.

It was probably just past six in the morning.

There were already people out jogging on the street.

Finding a corner seat, Brian sat down, stirred in thought, and activated his olfactory switch.

Instantly, countless odors came surging in.

This time Brian was prepared, and even though he looked unwell, he managed not to behave as embarrassingly as before.

Compared to the neighborhood,

the scents on the street were even more chaotic and complex.

However, once Brian's brain processor started keeping up with his nose,

he finally began to adapt.

Closing his eyes, Brian attempted to perceive the world around him through his sense of smell.

The next moment,

he marveled silently, "How magical..."

The unique scents emitted by each object imprinted themselves in his mind, gradually forming a world viewed through the perspective of smell in his brain.

Brian swore,

even real dogs couldn't achieve what he could now!

This must be because he had a human brain.

Unfortunately, after several experiments,

Brian found that his olfactory range did not extend to the hundreds of meters he had hoped for, but was more like twenty meters, and within ten meters, he could precisely identify any scent.

The further the distance, the weaker this sense became.

Beyond twenty meters,

he could hardly discern the direction of scents.

Moreover, after being switched on for a while, his brain began to feel tired.

This thing was better used only when necessary, otherwise, it would interfere with normal life, not to mention overtax his mind.

Even so,

Brian was quite satisfied.

After all, what dogs excel at is tracking.

With just this dog's nose,

Brian was confident he could smoothly pass the "Criminal Experiment Group" recruitment test at the end of the month.

That was a huge relief.

Whether he could pass the test or not

not only affected the continuation of medical expenses for his foster parents but also concerned his own safety.

Brian did not believe that he currently had the strength to stand up against his uncle.

He still needed to lay low and grow.

...

At 5:58 p.m.,

Brian refused several female colleagues' invitations to watch movies or hit the bars, and, whistling, he made his way to the timeclock, ready to punch out and leave the moment it hit six.

No joke.

Even if he remained single for life, he would never get involved with a woman from the Forensic Bureau.

That was basic safety awareness for a man!

Just when he was pondering whether to go to a mall to practice tracking with his nose, a short message interrupted his plans.

The message was brief: "Come home."

Brian's relaxed expression slowly faded.

It was a summons from the Kamor family.

...

Ever since he almost got buried alive last time,

Brian had not attended a Kamor family gathering again.

It had been,

roughly seven or eight months.

At that time, his foster parents had just been diagnosed with a genetic disease.

Brian used that as an excuse to decline subsequent family gatherings to avoid the awkwardness of meeting those cousins who had tried to bury him alive.

However.

It doesn't make sense!

The Kamor family usually only gathers at the end of the month.

It's only the 20-something of the month now.

There's still more than a week before that "crime experiment group" starts recruiting.

Why does my great-uncle want me to come back? What's he up to?

...

"Brian, buddy, why are you standing here like a lost goose, is it because you haven't got a date with a girl today and you're feeling down?"

A colleague from the Forensic Bureau interrupted Brian's thoughts.

Brian snapped back to reality and smiled at his colleague, "Just thinking about how to turn down a girl without breaking her heart."

"FK!"

The colleague who'd been fooled by Brian gave him the middle finger as a mark of 'respect,' then cut in line to punch out and left in a hurry like a defeated dog, as if he had been stung.

Seeing this, Brian chuckled to himself and followed suit to clock out and finish his workday.

Overthinking is pointless.

He hadn't even joined that so-called crime experiment group yet.

His great-uncle shouldn't want to harm him.

What he needed to do now was to just lay low, quietly develop his skills, and then give his cruel and domineering great-uncle a huge surprise!

...

Thirty minutes later.

In an Italian-American community, Brian parked his car in front of a building that looked like a perfectly square, factory-like structure.

This place used to be a factory.

Later transformed into a warehouse.

The residence of the Kamor family was repurposed from the flattened employee dormitories of the former warehouse.

"Hey, Brian, my brother, long time no see."

At the entrance, a bald, earring-wearing, tattoo-covered hunk warmly embraced Brian as he got out of the car.

"Hey, Fooly."

Seeing the bald man, Brian also showed a smile and hugged him back with enthusiasm.

This was his cousin Fooly, his great-uncle's son, a year younger than him, born with a fierce look, and usually acting tough in front of strangers.

But Brian knew.

This was just a facade Fooly put on to earn his father's approval.

The two got along well.

When Brian's foster parents were in the hospital, only this cousin from the Kamor family had reached out to help him by lending him money, and didn't participate in the threat of burying him alive.

Brian had a good impression of him.

Fooly, too, was close to his cousin who was the only high achiever in the family and knew some of his little secrets.

...

The two exchanged pleasantries for a moment.

Chatting as they walked,

Brian probed, "Fooly, did great-uncle send for me?"

Fooly nodded, glanced around, and then quietly said, "Father has been missing for several days, he just got back today and told me to call you over..."

As if remembering something,

A flicker of hesitation passed through Fooly's naturally fierce eyes.

He moved his lips several times before adding in an even quieter voice, "These days, the rest of the family has been busy with things I don't know about, and before father left, he had me arrange for someone to surveil you."

Upon hearing this, Brian's heart stirred slightly.

He laughed without showing any hint of concern, "Spying on me? Yet you're telling me about it?"

You see,

When they threatened him with live burial last time,

The great-uncle hadn't involved Fooly.

But this time, he had Fooly assign someone to watch him.

Does this mean the great-uncle no longer has reliable people by his side?

What had all the members of the Kamor family been assigned to do by the great-uncle?

Fooly didn't notice the reflection in Brian's eyes and sighed,

"I can't figure out why father would do that either.

Honestly,

I feel like his mental state has been getting more and more unstable these past few years, he even secretly installed surveillance on my phone.

The sister doesn't even want to come home anymore, huh."

As they talked,

Fooly led Brian inside the warehouse.

The place had long been remodeled.

While it looked ordinary on the outside, the interior had been lavish.

Fooly pointed to a corridor, fear flashing in his eyes, "Father is waiting for you in the conference room at the very end, I won't accompany you there."

Seeing this.

Brian patted Fooly's shoulder, took a deep breath, activated his enhanced sense of smell, and walked towards the corridor.

...

When he was about seven or eight meters away from the conference room,

Suddenly,

Brian's steps halted.

Shock flared in his eyes.

Inside the conference room, the stench of blood was heavy!

Even through a door,

He felt as if he were back in front of an autopsy table at the Forensic Bureau.

Brian couldn't imagine what sort of scene he would encounter upon opening the door!