Chapter 20: Metropolis! Never Corny!
Ian’s previous life’s Gaokao scores were very ideal.
However, whether it was his last life or this one, his social experience was not ideal. Even so, Ian felt that he should receive at least a little respect as an adult.
“Isn’t someone forgetting to say thank you?” Ian saw that both the cashier and the black robber had blank looks on their faces, so he spoke again in a slightly reminding tone, trying to wake up the black robber.
“What are you talking about? Get lost!” The robber came back to his senses and yelled angrily at Ian. The small-caliber pistol in his hand gestured at Ian a few times like it was rapping.
“Don’t delay my business, kid. I still have three places to rob today!” It had to be said that this black robber was absolutely a rare diligent person in his own race.
He had arranged a full workload for himself.
It was understandable.
After all, Metropolis’s neighbor was the talented people and auspicious land of Gotham, which often overflowed or eliminated a bit of talent to Metropolis. Some streets even had ordinary people everywhere living by selling goods, providing services, and handling corpses.
“Hmm? Rude robber sir? I originally thought you had good taste in choosing your mask!” Ian still stood in place without moving in the face of the robber’s threat.
The black guy wearing nylon stockings on his head was about to break down.
“Damn it! What exactly do you want?” He kept his right hand holding the gun, pressing two fingers to his temples, looking like he was really speechless toward Ian.
“Thank you! Thank you! This is fine now, right!”
Finally.
The black robber couldn’t win in the standoff with Ian.
“Mm, good, continue with your work, sir.” Ian, having obtained the respect he wanted, turned around in satisfaction and left again. He knew he should try to blend into the baseline of this world, and he also knew that as a 【ordinary NPC】, he shouldn’t get too involved in all sorts of events.
Saving the world and maintaining peace—that was superheroes’ job. They were favored by the will of the universe, so they could just go all out with their passion, but ordinary NPCs like Ian had to consider more things.
The same operation.
If superheroes did it, they might achieve great success, but when it came to ordinary NPCs with no luck doing it, they would mostly end up as the heroes that superheroes spoke of needing to “remember” and commemorate. For that reason, while the black robber fulfilled the responsibility given by his dark skin, Ian felt he should also respect Metropolis’s social daily life.
Only in this way.
Would an ordinary NPC like him not be dragged out one day to be commemorated and remembered. To be honest, Ian was very aware: ordinary NPCs should do what ordinary NPCs are supposed to do.
Eat, sleep, enjoy life, secretly get stronger.
“Crunch, crunch.”
Ian munched on the sandwich bread, drank Coca-Cola, bulked up fiercely while walking out of the store. The robber at the mouth only turned his head in relief after seeing him completely leave.
“Listen, let’s continue… Don’t think I’m a good person. If that kid were an adult, I definitely would’ve shot him dead!” The robber re-entered his role.
He bared his teeth to maintain his ferocity, loudly threatening the cashier again, “Give me all the money! And all the unbranded shopping cards!”
“And those few packs of Marlboros over there! And give me a lighter while you’re at it!” The robber’s goals were exceptionally clear. He even pulled out a large black plastic bag from his waist.
Clearly full of experience.
Well prepared.
And right at that moment.
“Welcome~”
The welcome bell at the door rang again.
“？？？？？？”
The robber’s expression was extremely vivid. He watched as that damn youth walked back in, and the stockings on his head were almost sucked into his throat from gasping.
“What more do you want!?”
The collapsing robber was just short of howling at the sky.
“No, I’m not here for you. My talent in finance just stirred a little.” Ian walked to the counter and looked at the cashier who was packing things for the robber inside the counter.
He carefully considered his wording a bit.
“Um… I wanted to ask, since this store is destined to be robbed clean today anyway, can you refund my thirty dollars forty-five cents from earlier?”
Under the increasingly baffled gaze of the robber, Ian maintained his politeness and spoke in a somewhat embarrassed tone. The cashier, having lived for twenty-something years, had truly never encountered such a situation.
“Ah?”
The cashier had a completely bewildered look.
“Anyway, your shop has insurance. They’ll compensate you exactly as much as you’re owed. Refunding my money is a win-win-win situation where everyone has a great day.”
Ian was showing off his youthful negotiation skills. He felt his train of thought was impeccable, absolutely not wasting his super intelligence of 2.4.
Superman had a super brain, and Ian, as the son of Superman—even if just an adopted son—of course had one too! His super brain told him he could save a small expense here.
Think about it!
By getting his expense back, it meant that on the black market for illegal transactions, the circulation of US dollars for things like contraband flour would be reduced by at least thirty dollars forty-five cents!
This was the macroeconomic regulation from economics that he hadn’t even learned! Moreover, in such a situation, wasn’t it also contributing to Metropolis’s stability and peace?
Mm!
Not disgracing the identity of the son of Superman!
“So, what do you think?”
Ian, logically consistent, looked at the cashier with expectant eyes.
“Uh… how do I have a great day?” The cashier felt something was off, but inexplicably thought the boy’s situation made some sense.
He just didn’t understand where he won.
“You can take a few days off because of this. Maybe give yourself a few big bruises, and you could even claim workers’ compensation.” Ian’s response was simply impeccable.
“It can be like that?”
The cashier slapped his head, suddenly seeing the light. He looked inquiringly at the silent robber. The black robber took a long time to figure out Ian’s thought process.
“Then aren’t I losing out?”
The black robber frowned, his voice dissatisfied. He had finally completely sorted it out: Ian’s behavior would reduce his income today by thirty dollars forty-five cents.
“…”
The cashier looked at Ian again.
“You can pretend I never came in to buy bread?” Ian blinked and made a suggestion, which left the black robber speechless again by ignoring the facts entirely.
The cashier nervously swallowed.
And just when he thought the black robber was about to explode.
“That kid is right. Hurry, refund his thirty dollars to him, and then we’ll all have a great day!” The black robber gestured threateningly at the cashier with his gun a few times.
“It’s thirty dollars forty-five cents.”
Ian reminded softly.
The robber looked at him, then at the cashier, and nodded to indicate refunding that amount.
“…”
The cashier was numb.
“Here.”
He counted out thirty dollars forty-five cents and handed it to Ian.
“You know arithmetic, right? You look like a student, with that student-specific… how to put it, boldness.” Seeing Ian take the refund, the robber’s eyes really turned for a moment. Then, he suddenly asked a question that seemed completely unrelated to what was happening.
It was quite abrupt.
But Ian just thought the other’s thought process was abnormal.
“You still have that kind of insight? You’re wasting your talent as a robber!”
Ian’s response was basically an admission.
After Ian nodded in some surprise, the black robber immediately spoke expectantly again, “Great! Quick! Calculate for me! How much tax do I need to declare on this business trip!”
This was definitely showing his true colors.
Good grief.
He was already a robber, yet he was still a law-abiding taxpayer in America? This truly caught Ian off guard. He was utterly shocked, feeling like it was another day of gaining new knowledge.
Metropolis taught him new things every day.
“Hmm? You don’t want me to rob back your thirty dollars, do you?” The robber started threatening. Clearly, this guy had agreed to Ian’s refund request with the idea of “using” Ian.
It had to be said.
Very capable, very rare.
There were actually strategists among the bottom black people!
