Metropolis! Never Melodramatic!

Ian's college entrance exam scores in his previous life had been quite good.

But neither in his past life nor this one had his social experience been particularly impressive. Even so, Ian felt that he ought to receive at least a little adult respect.

"Did someone forget to say thank you?" Seeing the cashier and the Black robber both looking completely bewildered, Ian spoke again in a gently reminding tone, trying to enlighten the robber.

"What are you talking about? Get lost!" Snapping out of it, the robber roared angrily at Ian, waving the small-caliber pistol in his hand at him like he was rapping.

"Don't hold me up, Imp. I've still got three more places to rob today!" It had to be said, this Black robber was definitely a rare hardworking member of his race.

He had given himself quite a full workload.

Understandable.

After all, right next to Metropolis was the land of outstanding talents, Gotham. It often overflowed with or discarded a few talents into Metropolis. On some streets, ordinary people who sold goods, entertained clients, and disposed of corpses lived everywhere.

"Hm? Mr. Rude Robber? I thought your choice of mask was quite tasteful!" Ian remained standing where he was despite the robber's threat.

The Black guy wearing a stocking over his head was on the verge of breaking down.

"Damn it! What exactly do you want?" He kept his right hand holding the gun while pressing both hands to his temples, looking utterly speechless at Ian.

"Thank you! Thank you! Is that enough now?"

At last.

The Black robber failed to win the standoff with Ian.

"Mhm, all right. Please continue working, sir." Having received the respect he wanted, Ian turned and left again with satisfaction. He knew he needed to blend into the tone of this world as much as possible, and he knew that as an [ordinary NPC], he should not involve himself too much in all sorts of incidents.

Saving the world and maintaining peace were superhero jobs. They were favored by the Universal Will, so they only needed to charge ahead passionately. Ordinary NPCs like Ian had far more things to consider.

The same action.

If superheroes did it, they might achieve great success. But if an ordinary NPC with little luck did it, he would probably only end up becoming a hero the superheroes would "remember" and mourn. Since the Black guy was fulfilling the duty bestowed on him by his dark skin, Ian felt he ought to respect the everyday order of Metropolis as well.

Only then.

Would an ordinary NPC like him avoid being dragged out one day to be mourned and remembered. Honestly, Ian was very self-aware. Ordinary NPCs should do what ordinary NPCs were supposed to do.

Eat, sleep, enjoy life, and secretly grow stronger.

"Crunch, crunch."

Ian munched on a cream-filled bun and drank Coca-Cola, fiercely bulking himself up as he walked out of the store. Only after watching him leave completely did the robber finally turn back in relief.

"Listen, we'll continue... Don't think I'm a good person. If that Imp had been an adult, I would've shot him dead!" The robber resumed playing his role.

He bared his teeth to maintain his fierce expression and loudly threatened the cashier again. "Give me all the cash! And all the unregistered gift cards!"

"And a few packs of Marlboro from over there! Throw in a lighter too!" The robber's objectives were exceptionally clear, and he pulled a large black plastic bag from his waist.

He was clearly very experienced.

Well prepared.

Then, at that moment.

"Welcome~"

The welcome chime at the entrance rang again.

"??????"

The robber's expression became wonderfully complicated. Watching that damned boy return, he almost sucked the stocking over his head into his throat with a sharp inhale.

"What else do you want!?"

The collapsing robber was only one step away from howling at the sky.

"Nothing. I'm not here for you. My talent for financial management just twitched a little." Ian walked to the counter and looked at the cashier, who was packing things for the robber.

He carefully considered his wording.

"Um... I wanted to ask, since this store is already doomed to be completely looted today, could you refund the thirty dollars and forty-five cents I spent earlier?"

Under the robber's increasingly baffled stare, Ian maintained his politeness and spoke in a somewhat embarrassed tone. The cashier had lived for over twenty years and had genuinely never encountered anything like this.

"Huh?"

The cashier looked utterly lost.

"Your store has insurance anyway. They'll compensate you for however much you lose. If you refund my money, it becomes a three-way win. Everyone gets to have a lovely day."

Ian was displaying his immature negotiating skills. He felt his reasoning was simply flawless and had absolutely lived up to his super intelligence of 2.4.

Superman had a super brain. As Superman's son, even if only his adopted son, Ian naturally had one too! His super brain told him that he could save a small expense here.

Just think about it!

Getting his expense back also meant that, in the illegal trade market, the circulation of dollars for things like flour and contraband would be reduced by at least thirty dollars and forty-five cents!

This was the macroeconomic regulation he had never actually studied in economics! Besides, wouldn't this situation also count as contributing to the stability and peace of Metropolis?

Mm!

He wasn't disgracing the identity of the Son of Superman!

"Well?"

With his logic neatly complete, Ian looked expectantly at the cashier.

"Uh... how exactly do I get a lovely day?" The cashier felt that something was off, but somehow thought the boy's argument seemed quite reasonable.

He just didn't understand where he had won.

"You get to take a few days off because of it. Maybe if you slap yourself a few times, you can even claim workers' compensation." Ian's answer was simply flawless.

"You can do that?"

The cashier slapped his forehead and suddenly came to a realization. With a questioning look, he turned toward the silent robber. It took the Black robber a long while to sort through Ian's train of thought.

"Then wouldn't I be losing out?"

The Black robber frowned, his voice dissatisfied. He had finally sorted it out completely: Ian's actions would reduce his income for the day by thirty dollars and forty-five cents.

"..."

The cashier looked at Ian again.

"You could pretend I never came in to buy bread?" Ian blinked and made a suggestion. His completely fact-free proposal instantly silenced the Black robber again.

The cashier swallowed nervously.

Just as he thought the Black robber might be about to explode.

"The Imp's right. Hurry up, give him his thirty dollars back, then we can all have a lovely day!" The Black robber gestured threateningly at the cashier with his gun.

"It's thirty dollars and forty-five cents."

Ian quietly reminded him.

The robber looked at him, then at the cashier, and nodded to indicate that this was the amount to return.

"..."

The cashier's mind had gone numb.

"Here."

He counted out thirty dollars and forty-five cents and handed it to Ian.

"You know arithmetic, right? You look like a student. You've got that student-specific... how should I put it, nerve." Seeing Ian accept the refund, the robber's eyes really did spin for a moment. Then he suddenly asked a question that seemed entirely unrelated to what was happening.

It was rather abrupt.

But Ian only felt that the man's thought process was abnormal.

"You've got an eye for people? Being a robber is beneath you!"

Ian's response could be considered an admission.

After Ian nodded in mild amazement, the Black robber immediately spoke up eagerly again. "Good! Hurry! Calculate this for me! How much tax do I need to report on this job!"

This absolutely counted as revealing his true intentions.

Good lord.

He was a robber, yet he was still a tax-paying citizen of America? Ian truly hadn't expected that. He was utterly stunned, feeling as though he had learned something new yet again.

Metropolis taught him new things every day.

"Hm? You don't want me to rob you of those thirty dollars again, do you?" The robber began threatening him. Clearly, the reason he had agreed to Ian's refund request was so he could "make use" of Ian.

It had to be said.

Impressive, and rare.

There was actually a strategist among the lower-class Black people!