Daily Life in Metropolis

Same old saying.

Anyone who had prepared to transmigrate into the DC Universe knew.

What the Light Bar in Los Angeles meant.

"Lucifer..."

Ian swallowed and murmured softly.

"Huh?"

Madison seemed to have sharp ears. "How do you know that man's name... Yeah, it's that embarrassingly edgy. Someone actually named himself Lucifer Morningstar."

"It's so ridiculous. He looks like some washed-up rock singer. That handsome face is completely wasted on him. In that regard, you're probably still much better than that damn bar owner."

Madison's sharp tongue was as reliably vicious as ever.

Ian glanced sideways at Madison. The blonde girl was looking down on the King of Hell's taste with utter disdain, clearly having no idea who she was judging.

"Little Punk Girl."

He suddenly spoke.

"Hmm?"

Madison looked at her deskmate suspiciously.

"I hope you'll become a good person someday and get into Heaven." Ian sincerely offered his blessing, but Madison merely rolled her eyes and snorted.

"I don't believe in all that Heaven and Hell nonsense. Besides, good people can't make it in Hollywood." Her dream was to become a major Hollywood star.

Ian did not explain. He merely sighed softly. Just then, another wave of perfume drifted closer. It smelled somewhat cheap, far less tasteful than Madison's.

A girl with wavy brown hair walked happily toward Ian, holding a necklace in her hand. There was a hint of anticipation in her eyes.

This was Emily.

A classmate who had fake-fallen in front of Ian more than ten times.

"Ian, you weren't at school yesterday. Were you sick?" Emily immediately expressed her concern, her face filled with genuine worry.

"Are you cursing me to get sick?"

Ian frowned slightly, his focus rather unusual.

"..."

Emily froze for a moment, then forced a smile and raised the necklace in her hand. "All right, I said the wrong thing. Could you help me put this necklace on?"

"My mom gave it to me as a birthday present this morning." She drew out her words, placing particular emphasis on "birthday present."

"My mom gives me birthday presents on my birthday too." Ian merely looked at Emily with clear eyes before lowering his head to organize his textbooks again.

The conversation seemed dead.

A trace of embarrassment flashed across Emily's face. Seeing this, a male classmate beside her immediately leaned over enthusiastically and said with a broad smile, "I'll help you."

He was a helpful and kind classmate, but unfortunately, the freckles on his face had gone well beyond the ideal amount. That was perhaps why Emily immediately drew back her hands.

"No, thank you."

She remained polite, but her rejection was firm. The boy stood there with a confused look on his face, at a complete loss. The young, warmhearted boy still had no idea why.

"I'm dying."

Seeing this, Madison burst out laughing. She sprawled across the desk, her shoulders shaking wildly. "Hahahaha! Emily, your acting is terrible!"

Even while laughing, she did not forget to mock someone.

"Mind your own business, Miss Montgomery!" Emily snapped resentfully. Madison did not seem bothered by the warning in the slightest.

She even intended to add fuel to the fire.

"Your big sister's in a good mood today, so I'll teach you for free how Ian is supposed to be used." As she spoke, Madison directly unclasped the necklace around her neck.

"Put it on for me, study freak." Madison turned her back to Ian and slapped a ten-dollar bill onto the book he was reading.

The next moment, Ian sprang into action. He skillfully took the necklace, his fingers deftly slipping through Madison's blonde hair before fastening the clasp. The entire process took less than three seconds.

He was extremely practiced.

Especially when it came to stuffing the ten dollars into his pocket.

It had to be said.

Madison was indeed rather wealthy.

For a middle school student, that was definitely no small amount of pocket money. Thus, a large bill defeated Ian's laziness, and the knowledge in his textbooks could not defeat Alexander Hamilton.

Its power was only nine-tenths weaker than Franklin's.

It was already quite formidable.

"See that? That's what professionalism looks like."

Madison looked provocatively at Emily and took back the five dollars Ian had given her in change—when it came to earning payment through labor, the Son of Superman had principles of his own.

"Just you wait, bitch! Don't let me catch you after school!" Emily's expression had already been rather ugly, but upon seeing this, she immediately gritted her teeth, stomped her foot, and turned to leave.

As for her threat.

Madison still did not care.

"Seriously, where did you go when you skipped school yesterday? Don't tell me you went to a bookstore." Madison continued chatting with Ian as she pulled out some nail polish and started painting her nails.

"I didn't skip school."

Ian corrected his deskmate's wording.

"I took sick leave."

He demonstrated his rigor.

"Oh? Sick leave?"

Madison held her shiny nails up to the sunlight.

"Of course it was sick leave. My parents took me to see a psychiatrist." Ian had no reason to hide it. Seeing a psychiatrist was not unusual in America.

After all.

Americans did not have wills of steel, so seeing a psychiatrist was practically normal in this country. Many people did not understand why mental health services were so popular in America.

"Is this some kind of misery contest?"

Madison was somewhat surprised when she heard that.

"Does the winner get a prize?"

Ian once again displayed his unusual priorities. Madison curled her lips and gave him the kind of eye roll that would surely win first place in an eye-rolling competition.

"I see a psychiatrist all the time too. Even if there were a prize, I'd be the one winning." She held up her hand and turned it around, trying to let the sunlight shine on her freshly painted nails.

"What did your doctor say?"

The blonde girl asked casually.

Ian thought for a moment.

"The doctor said I have a bit of a mental problem."

He still chose not to hide it.

Madison scoffed disdainfully. "Psychiatrists are all like that. They love scaring people. Otherwise, how would they make money? What matters is how you see yourself."

Her words were surprisingly philosophical. It was hard to imagine that a middle school student who scored single digits in every subject could say something like that. Ian pondered for a moment after hearing her.

"I think my psychiatrist was too conservative with his diagnosis. Honestly, I think my mental problems should rank first in our grade too."

His tone was serious.

"Huh?"

Madison was stunned.

"You're competing over that too? Your competitive streak is even stronger than mine?" Madison found it utterly absurd, looking at Ian as though he were some incomprehensible unknown creature.

And just then.

The first-period teacher began class. When the teacher reached the "turning point of World War II," a deafening roar suddenly came from outside the window.

Immediately afterward.

The ground shook violently.

Several students screamed and ducked beneath their desks.

The history teacher merely glanced outside, then returned to the podium, tapped the blackboard, and calmly adjusted his glasses. "Everyone, there's no need to panic so much."

"It's just that another plane crashed again... It won't affect class. In Metropolis, this is perfectly normal. Superman has surely already saved those unlucky passengers."

The history teacher spoke about an air disaster as though chatting about everyday life, his tone unbelievably calm—one could only say that Metropolis truly deserved to be right next to Gotham.

It really had some urban heritage.

"Cool."

Madison even whistled from beneath the desk.

The other students all showed expressions of sudden realization. They quickly accepted the history teacher's reassurance, and harmony returned to the classroom.

"..."

Ian's expression was rather complicated. He turned to look at the billowing smoke in the distance beyond the classroom window, hesitated, and ultimately chose to blend into the class's harmonious atmosphere.

Just moments ago, he had been discussing his mental state.

Now, he felt that perhaps he was the only normal person in the classroom.

No one had realized it.

Hadn't that falling plane already exploded?