The next day.
Bright and early.
"This is what life's all about, huh."
Adam was cruising in his sports car, speeding toward the medical center, and couldn't help letting out a smug little sigh. If anyone else heard it, they'd probably want to punch him in the face. 😂
Last night, he'd strolled through the estate gardens with MAX, soaking in the gorgeous moonlight together.
It didn't even feel like they were on Earth.
More like they were up in the heavens, admiring the moon from above.
That is, until the alarm he'd set snapped him out of it. Adam said goodbye to MAX and drove off.
In that moment, he truly got what people mean by "a day in heaven is a year on Earth." Time just warps like that.
He even figured out why that Journey to the West setup was seen as a jab at corrupt rulers.
It's not about some literal time glitch—one day here, one year there.
No, it's that happy moments zip by so fast you barely blink, and they're gone.
Totally the same vibe as "this is life," right? Nailed it! 😎
Yup, Adam had fallen—hard!
If there really was a Sailor Moon out there representing the moon, last night she'd either have shown up to zap him for tainting her moonlight or stayed hidden behind it, trembling, too scared to face him.
The world has grown filthy again!
And there's even a poem to prove it:
What are its words? A dragon roams the winding pond.
What is its spirit? The moon lights up the icy river.
It shames the west gate, outshines the high rail.
New York stands unmatched, TV dramas unrivaled.
Who could this be?
Such a wild soul!
At the Medical Center
Adam parked his car and strutted over with the kind of swagger that says, "I don't even know my own family anymore."
Everyone was caught off guard but returned his overly chipper greetings with wide eyes.
Beep beep beep!
He hadn't even stepped through the door when the security scanner went off like crazy.
The guards instantly tensed up, barking at a mother-daughter duo nearby.
"Calm down, it's okay! My mom's got some mental health stuff going on—we're here to see a doctor," the woman, maybe in her thirties, said quickly, throwing her hands up to explain to the jittery security team.
"Then why'd you bring guns to a doctor's visit?"
One guard snatched the old lady's bag, rummaged through it, and pulled out a handgun. "Three of them? And spare magazines too?"
As the guns and ammo came into view, every guard either rested a hand on their holster or straight-up drew their weapons, aiming at the pair.
"It's my right to carry!" the old lady snapped. "The streets aren't safe these days—no, they've never been safe. I bring guns to protect myself!"
"Ma'am, do you have a concealed carry permit?" the security captain asked, his face dead serious.
"A what now?" The old lady blinked, genuinely confused. "I've been toting my Glock 17 for decades!"
She started reaching for her waist.
"Ma'am, don't move!" the captain shouted.
"Captain Depp, tell the team to lower their weapons—let's not have an accidental discharge here," Adam called out after watching for a sec. He didn't sense any real danger and figured this old lady wasn't here to attack anyone. He was worried the trigger-happy guards might shoot her out of panic if she didn't get what was happening.
"Guns down! No firing unless I say so!"
The captain glanced at Adam, saw him nod, and gave the order.
The other guards, trusting Adam's judgment, eased up a bit and pointed their guns at the floor.
Adam wasn't just the guy who got them better gear to keep them safer—he was also the one with those legendary gut feelings about crises. They'd all heard the stories.
"Ma'am, relax," Adam said, stepping closer with a calm vibe. "This is a hospital. I'm a doctor. You can tell me what's going on, but we've gotta hand those guns over to security first. It's the rules—for everyone's safety."
"Hey, that's a smart idea!" the old lady said, perking up as she looked at Adam. "If nobody carried guns, even a fight wouldn't get too messy, right? The streets would be way safer. That's genius!
You're a doctor?"
"Yup, Dr. Duncan," Adam said with a grin.
"I don't think you should be a doctor," she said, dead serious. "With ideas that good, you oughta be president! Then we'd all be safe."
"Mom!" her daughter groaned, half-laughing, half-mortified.
"What?" The old lady shot her daughter a look. "Am I wrong? You're always saying I've got mental issues, some persecution complex or whatever.
But the streets are dangerous! You can't just say 'America's the safest' and call it a day.
You never get to the real problem. Look at this doctor—young, sharp, sees the heart of it in one glance!
And he's so handsome too!
If he's not president, who should be?
I remember that one guy—got elected just 'cause he was good-looking!
This doctor's way hotter than that guy ever was.
If he ran, he'd win for sure!
I'd vote for him first!"
"Mom!" her daughter yelped again, exasperated. "Even if Dr. Duncan became president, it wouldn't fix everything. It's not all up to him!"
"Okay, ma'am," Adam said, chuckling despite himself. "If I ever get the chance, I'll run. But for now, let's handle things here at the hospital. You've still got a gun on you, right?"
"Of course!" she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I told you, the streets aren't safe. Why wouldn't I carry?"
"Right," Adam said, keeping his cool. "So, tell me where it is, and I'll take it off you nice and easy. We don't want any accidents hurting innocent folks, okay?"
"No need for all that trouble…" she started, reaching for it herself.
"No, it's necessary!" Adam raised his voice just enough, stepping in to grab her hand. He smoothly pulled the gun from her waist, popped out the magazine, and cleared the chamber like a pro.
"Not bad, not bad!" she said, eyeing him with approval. "You've got skills!"
"Thanks," Adam laughed. "Ma'am, don't tell me you've got more guns stashed somewhere?"
"Nope!" She waved a hand. "Four's plenty for the basics. I've got more at home, but they're too heavy to lug around. Next time, swing by my place—we'll have a little shooting match, huh?"
"…"
Everyone just stared, speechless.
Four's "plenty for the basics"?
A Glock 17 holds 17+1 rounds. Four guns? That's 72 shots. Plus, her bag was stuffed with loaded mags—nearly 150 rounds total. She could start a small war!
What's next, she's a superhero ready to take down a crime syndicate single-handedly? 😂
Adam handed the gun to security, then led the mother-daughter duo to an exam room.
The metal detectors he'd donated were clutch. Last time, another old lady waltzed in with a gun and freaked out the staff. If this superhero granny got inside undetected, it'd be chaos.
"Got a medical history for me?" Adam asked.
"Yup." The daughter handed over the file quick.
"I'm not sick!" the old lady huffed. "They keep saying I've got paranoid schizophrenia or some fancy delusion thing. They're the ones who've read too many books and gone dumb. I'm just careful, that's all."
"When you're alone, ever hear voices?" Adam asked with a little smile.
"Nope," she said, locking eyes with him. "You think I'm crazy too?"
"Nah, just doing the routine check," Adam said, meeting her gaze. She didn't seem off, but that didn't rule out something serious. He kept the vibe chill to keep her calm.
"Fine then," she said, satisfied.
"Doctor, are you a psychiatrist?" her daughter cut in, sounding annoyed.
"Nope," Adam said, glancing at her. "I've already called for one. I'm just asking the basics so they've got a head start when they get here."
"Alright," the daughter grumbled, clearly not thrilled.
"Ma'am, why do you think your mom's got a mental illness?" Adam flipped open the chart to a fresh page and turned to her, all professional-like.
"Well…"
The daughter launched into a whole spiel.
The old lady just sat there, smirking quietly.
She liked this Dr. Duncan. He was fun—maybe the only one who saw it might not be her with the problem, but her daughter instead. She vibed with that logic.
Adam, though? He figured the old lady might have some issues.
But her daughter probably did too. Who else would be naive enough to think the TV-drama version of the world was all peace and safety, no need to protect yourself?
Was she really that clueless, or was she the crazy one?
Now that was an interesting medical puzzle.
(End of Chapter)