Docking their pay doesn't hurt enough. They won't remember.

Bungee Cord smugly assumed that was all the strength John had. With a savage grin, he stretched his arms out again, ready to wrap John up like a rice dumpling.

Just as his hands were about to touch John, John reached out.

He did not dodge. He simply took an utterly natural step forward and seized Bungee Cord's rubber-tough neck.

Bungee Cord's smile froze. He desperately tried to stretch his neck to escape, only to discover that the boy's soft, pale little hand was like an unshakable steel clamp, pinning him firmly in place.

John was still smiling, his smile perfect enough to go straight onto a magazine cover. His face was turned toward the camera, presenting anyone who looked with a glorious, righteous image of a hero subduing a villain.

But he leaned close to Bungee Cord's ear and spoke softly, in a voice only the two of them could hear.

"Lynn told me we have to follow the script when we make a movie. You just broke the rules, and you nearly messed up my hair with that piece of scrap metal."

Bungee Cord looked into those azure eyes mere inches away.

At some point, a chilling, terrifying murderous intent had begun churning deep within those blue pupils.

John tightened his fingers just a fraction.

That tiny fraction was enough for Bungee Cord to hear his own cervical vertebrae groan in agony.

"Listen, Play-Doh."

John's voice remained gentle, as though he were chatting with a good friend. "I promised Lynn I wouldn't break your bones. But if you dare move again, I'll use Heat Vision to boil your intestines. Care to guess whether your rubber organs can withstand several thousand degrees of heat?"

Bungee Cord's pupils contracted sharply, and cold sweat instantly soaked his entire uniform.

He felt it.

It was pure, undisguised terror.

In a blind spot the camera could not see, the smiling angel before him had become a tyrant more terrifying than any demon from hell.

He had no doubt whatsoever that this kid really would cook his organs!

"S-sorry..."

Bungee Cord trembled violently all over. His knees buckled, and he collapsed straight to the floor.

He did not even dare entertain the thought of resisting.

As John looked at the terrified Bungee Cord, the chill in his eyes vanished without a trace.

He released his hand and straightened his chest toward the camera, still wearing that radiant smile.

"Evil shall bow before justice."

John delivered the final line of the script, his voice ringing out, brimming with righteousness.

"Cut! Perfect! Absolutely perfect!"

Legend leaped excitedly out of his chair and led the applause.

Thunderous applause erupted across the set.

To them, John had not only perfectly subdued the "robber" who had improvised extra action, but had even displayed a commanding presence that made others surrender without a fight.

Only Bungee Cord remained kneeling on the floor, slumped there like a puddle of mud, his face deathly pale as he gasped for breath. He looked at John as though he were a monster wearing human skin.

Lynn stood behind the monitor, quietly watching John bask in everyone's cheers and exclamations beneath the lights.

He had not missed Bungee Cord's utterly horrified expression, nor the fleeting sense of oppressive menace when John had leaned toward his ear.

Lynn took a sip of the coffee in his hand and found it a little bitter.

John had finally learned the supreme rule of survival in this world.

He had successfully split himself in two: one was the radiant, rule-abiding, perfect god the whole world could see; the other was a tyrant hidden beneath that flawless smile, capable of intimidating others in the cruelest ways to uphold the order he had established.

"What a performance, right?"

Madelyn walked over to Lynn, watching the playback on the monitor, her tone filled with uncontainable elation. "He was simply born for this. Even his control of his expressions is flawless."

"Yes. Flawless."

Lynn set down his coffee cup and sighed softly.

The fear was that he acted too well-so well that one day, even Lynn would no longer be able to tell when he was smiling and when he wanted to kill.

That evening after filming ended, the rich aroma of fried chicken filled the Underground Apartment in Area B.

"In recognition of your perfect performance on camera today, here's a top-of-the-line family bucket specially approved by the Logistics Department, along with your favorite ice-cold cola."

Lynn placed a huge red-and-white-striped paper bucket on the coffee table, then took out a golden, crispy fried drumstick and handed it to John, who had long been waiting eagerly beside him.

"Thanks, Lynn!"

John happily accepted the drumstick and began taking huge, utterly undignified bites.

Buddy, the golden retriever weighing over seventy jin, immediately came over and rested his chin on the edge of the coffee table, letting out pleading whines as his tail spun like a propeller.

John glanced at Lynn and saw that he was watching television with a can of beer in hand. He quietly tore a tender, boneless piece of meat from the drumstick and stuffed it into Buddy's mouth at lightning speed.

"Buddy's been overweight lately. Don't feed him so much greasy food."

Without even turning his head, Lynn spoke in a low voice, his eyes fixed on the television screen.

Like a child caught stealing, John guiltily stuffed the remaining half of the drumstick into his own mouth and mumbled, "I just felt sorry for him. Lynn, do you have eyes in the back of your head?"

"It's called a guardian's intuition."

Lynn turned to look at John, whose mouth was smeared with grease and whose eyes were clear and innocent.

Recalling the icy tyrant in the studio a few hours earlier, who could scare a Superhero into wetting himself with just two fingers, Lynn felt that the extreme disconnect was enough to drive someone mad.

Lynn took a sip of cold beer and asked in a deliberately casual tone, "By the way, back on set today, what exactly did you say when you leaned over to that 'Bungee Cord's' ear? He looked so scared afterward that he could barely stand."

John licked the ketchup off his fingers and answered with complete naturalness, concealing absolutely nothing.

"I just told him that if he kept breaking the rules, I'd use Heat Vision to boil his intestines."

Lynn's hand froze in midair, still holding the beer can.

"You... threatened to cook his organs?"

"Yes."

John nodded earnestly. "You said we had to follow the script when making a movie, and that I couldn't break his bones. So I didn't hurt him. I just objectively explained the possible physical consequences of breaking the rules. It was very effective. He immediately became very cooperative."

John even leaned closer, looking at Lynn with those beautiful blue eyes, a hint of pride in his expression as he sought praise. "Lynn, that's another application of the 'empathy' you taught me, right? I accurately understood his fear of death and used that emotion to maintain order on set. I did great, didn't I?"

Looking at that angelic face and listening to an analysis that could only be called devilish logic, Lynn felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet to the top of his skull.

Some empathy!

Some way of maintaining order!

This kid treated complex human emotions and fears entirely as a set of levers to manipulate.

He did not consider it cruelty. He only saw it as the most efficient shortcut to clearing the stage.

"...Next time, use a slightly gentler comparison."

Lynn struggled to swallow that bitter mouthful of beer. "For example, tell him his pay will be docked or something."

"Docking their pay doesn't hurt enough. They won't remember. Pain and fear teach the most lasting lessons."

John pulled out a tissue and wiped his mouth, his tone carrying an unquestionable coldness. But the very next second, he put on that well-behaved smile again. "But since you don't like it, Lynn, I won't mention intestines next time."

Lynn sighed, unwilling to dwell any further on this hopeless topic.