The Strategist entered the game with money.
He wanted Ian to be his "consultant" for tax matters.
However.
Ian was very wary of this proposal and shook his head.
"Then I'd become your accomplice!" He was a genuine law-abiding citizen. He wouldn't stop the crime, but he certainly didn't intend to become an accomplice in any form.
Are you kidding me!
He was Ian!
Ian Kent!
Superman's son absolutely could not associate with criminals! That was the logic. In Ian's mind, this did not conflict with his returning to demand a refund only.
A refund only.
The only party suffering a loss was the insurance company, that evil capitalism! It was fiercely fighting for the oppressed working class! Viewed this way, it somehow silently aligned with his father's superhero spirit.
The logic was perfectly self-contained.
Ian's refusal was decisive.
However.
"Hurry up and calculate it for me! You damned brat!" The Black robber clearly couldn't guess Ian's thoughts. He brandished the tightly gripped pistol, threatening Ian again.
"Knowledge shouldn't be used this way."
Just as Ian continued to shake his head.
Weewo! Weewo! Weewo!
Suddenly.
Police sirens blared outside the store.
Clearly, police cars were approaching.
"?????"
The robber was instantly startled. He looked at Ian exasperatedly. "It was you! Did you call the police! You were delaying my time the whole time!"
"I already agreed to give you a refund! And you still screw me over!?" The robber sounded as if he were the victim, his feeling of grievance and anger reaching a peak.
Anyone who didn't know better would think he had suffered some heinous betrayal.
"Huh?"
Ian was momentarily stunned.
"I didn't!"
He was telling the truth.
"You didn't? Then who else could it be!"
The robber silently watched Ian for a moment. Then, both of them simultaneously turned to look at the cashier—the cashier reacted quickly, immediately picking up the cash register in front of him and hurling it at the robber.
The robber was knocked to the ground, and the instrument of truth (the gun) fell to the floor. The cashier swiftly flipped over the counter and kicked the gun under the display shelves.
Not only that.
He started fiercely stomping on the robber's head. He didn't stop even after the robber was knocked unconscious until Ian quickly rushed over to stop him, preventing a robbery from turning into a murder.
"He's truly close to being kicked to death." Ian crouched down and checked the robber's breathing, confirming that he truly had gained a point of merit. He looked up at the young man leaning against the side, his body still trembling.
"Are you shaking from shock or excitement?"
Ian was thoughtful.
Phew~
The cashier sighed heavily in relief.
"Fear, of course! That was really dangerous. We were truly close to dying." He started expressing how great it was to be alive, a look of relief after escaping disaster on his face.
"Uh."
Ian quietly glanced at the unconscious robber. "Actually, you wouldn't have died, not at all... He was holding a fake gun. Didn't you realize?"
Yes.
The reason Ian went in and out three times.
Was precisely because he had spotted this detail that guaranteed his absolute safety.
However.
"?????"
The cashier froze immediately, clearly having just realized this fact.
"You noticed that? No way!" The young man ran toward the shelves in disbelief, lying on the floor to retrieve the gun that had been kicked to the bottom of the shelf.
After a brief inspection.
"Hiss, you were right! It really is a fake gun! The craftsmanship is exceptionally good, I feel like it costs more than a real one!" The cashier turned to Ian, utterly amazed.
"Does your family sell guns? How could you spot the difference?" The cashier asked out of sheer curiosity. This was perhaps the only explanation he could think of.
"Huh? Isn't that a basic life skill in Metropolis?" Ian's expression was one of surprise, and his tone was matter-of-fact, immediately causing the cashier to become speechless.
What the hell was a basic life skill.
No decent person learned that kind of thing!
This wasn't the city next door!
"..."
The atmosphere in the air was awkward. The two stared at each other for a full minute. Ian considered the situation and handed back the thirty dollars and forty-five cents he had put in his pocket.
Be a man of integrity.
Ian had his own principles when it came to taking advantage. Since the robber had now been defeated, his previous perfect triple-win plan clearly no longer had the conditions to be implemented.
"Keep it, you."
However, the cashier did not take the money back. He walked back to the register, bundled the cash he had already organized, and put it into a safe.
"My name is Tate Langdon." Perhaps due to sharing the experience of the robbery, the cashier introduced himself. He felt he and Ian were comrades-in-arms who had gone through adversity together.
"Hello, Tate."
Ian was polite but did not introduce himself. The cashier, Tate, didn't seem to mind. He simply took a few packets of high-end "family planning" items from the shelf.
"Actually, this store is my dad's store." He first explained why he fought back against the robber, and then he explained to Ian what he was doing.
"You were right earlier. My dad really does have insurance." After a moment of hesitation, the cashier grabbed a few packs of Camel cigarettes. In America, they were equivalent to the nation's most popular brand of cigarettes.
"..."
Ian looked around, failed to find a security camera, and realized what this guy was doing.
Stealing from his employer!
The seemingly honest young man with glasses wasn't honest at all! This guy must be planning to pin the blame on the robber who had been "subdued"! Alas! He truly was a white lotus in Metropolis! This robbery didn't achieve a triple win, only a double win, and a world where only the robber was wrongly accused was directly created!
"Awesome!"
Ian felt profoundly shaken, gaining a new understanding of the daily life in Metropolis. He even began to doubt whether the owner was truly the cashier's father.
Just then.
"Inside! Hands up!"
The sirens had been going for a long time. The robber was practically catching a cold lying on the floor, yet the police outside were only just arriving fashionably late. This wasn't the first time Ian had encountered after-the-fact police.
Honestly.
They seemed to have a superpower for predicting whether the incident was over or not.
"We are victims! We need blankets!" The cashier raised his hands and spoke to the police officers entering with guns drawn. He had already hidden quite a few "stolen goods."
His experience in dealing with robberies seemed much richer than Ian had imagined.
"I am traumatized! I need a ride home!" Ian quickly adapted, raising his hands as well, and seizing the opportunity to try to get free transportation back home.
...
The police normally didn't act as good Samaritans. However, thanks to the inherent trait of his "Appearance is Righteous" modeling, Ian ultimately received kind assistance from a female officer.
The police car stopped in front of his house.
"Thank you."
Ian bid farewell to the female officer, who had advised him several times along the way to try his luck in Hollywood. He felt his pocket. His assets were actually one dollar more than before he bought food.
Yes, the cashier refunded Ian thirty dollars and forty-five cents, but he forgot that he had already given Ian one dollar in change after Ian completed his purchase.
Ian's actual expenditure was only $29.45. How to put it, it proved that while the cashier might have some cleverness, his mathematical intelligence was clearly at the American average level.
"It's like someone spent one dollar to treat me to a huge pile of pre-packaged food!" Ian was being logically consistent again. He stared at his front door, feeling slightly hesitant. It wasn't because he hadn't figured out how to explain why he was home so late, but because he was wavering over whether he should bring the evil spirit home.
Not only was there a hidden danger, but it would also be bad if his Superman father discovered such a thing. Mainly, Ian hadn't figured out how to explain bringing an evil spirit home.
Should he use the dramatic script where he stumbled into a mysterious mage temple on the road, where the [Sorcerer Supreme Wong] took him as a disciple, thanks to his innate talent? Or should he use the naive script where he thought he picked up a "magic lamp"? Hmm, both seemed suspiciously like plagiarism.
"Where is my writing talent! Get going! Come up with a reasonable origin story for me!" Ian was racking his brain. He believed his changes could fool his parents for a short time, but not forever.
As for the question of whether to confess the truth, Ian had considered it carefully. However, compared to telling them he was a transmigrator with a System.
He felt his "origin story" should respect the current version of events.
"But I can definitely still complain about being kidnapped by Constantine's accomplice..." Ian thought, pulling out the thermos that Charles had used to hit him earlier.
The uneven surface of the thermos was proof of Ian's iron head.
"My head is still throbbing faintly, and this evil spirit is awful... Wait, what's going on!" Ian had intended to shake the evil spirit in the bottle a few more times to vent, but he suddenly found that the thermos seemed to have lost its effect. Not only were the runes on it blurred.
But the evil spirit inside was gone too!
"Where is my giant evil spirit!? Did it escape?" Ian was utterly astonished. He pressed his eye against the glass to peer inside, but he truly couldn't see anything in the thermos.
Was it the evil spirit's trick?
Or did it truly escape?
Just as Ian was deeply suspicious.
"Hmm?"
He was surprised to find his chest flashing.
He didn't know how long it had been flashing.
Ian quickly pulled out the object beneath his shirt—he saw that the pendant Madison had given him was now emitting a dark, faint glow.
The color was very similar to the evil spirit's body.
***
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