"Who am I, where am I, what happened?"
His head throbbed. Pain spread through his body.
As the dizziness faded, Bruce recalled it clearly. He was Bruce Wayne. He had been sparring with a new martial arts coach in the manor's training room.
And then-
He couldn't move a stationary target.
And he'd been thrown aside with one hand.
Bruce was stunned.
Then he understood.
This was exactly the coach he wanted.
"Master, Master... are you alright?" Alfred hurried over, checking his injuries with visible concern.
To be honest, Alfred's hand was already on his gun.
He only restrained himself because Morin had clearly held back.
"Alfred," Bruce waved weakly, "did you see how he did it?"
"I did," Alfred replied, still sounding incredulous. "Mr. Morin stood there, and you couldn't move him."
"Then he grabbed your leg and threw you out."
"His feet didn't move?" Bruce pressed a hand to his waist, inhaling sharply.
"They didn't move," Alfred confirmed.
"You're hired," Bruce said, looking up at Morin.
"Hold on. There are a few things I need to make clear first," Morin replied.
"First, I'm a fitness coach."
"o(?Д?)っ!"
Bruce and Alfred froze.
With that level of strength and martial skill, calling himself a fitness coach felt absurd.
Unless-
They reached the same conclusion at the same time.
"It's normal for a fitness coach to know a little martial arts," Morin laughed.
"So to be precise, I'll be your fitness coach. Second, once hired, I'll provide a fitness, diet, and training plan. You must follow it strictly. If you don't, I'll terminate the training with no refund. Third, all fees are paid in advance."
"I can agree to that," Bruce said after a brief pause. "But the plan has to stay within my tolerable range, and daily training time must be limited. I still need time for company affairs."
"That's reasonable," Morin nodded. "The plan will definitely stay within your limits."
"So," he added, "let's talk salary."
"Ten million dollars a year," Bruce said, standing with Alfred's help. "How does that sound?"
"Hm..." Morin hesitated, originally intending to ask for more.
Then he had an idea.
"That works."
"It's a pleasure working with you, Mr. Morin," Bruce said solemnly, extending his hand.
Bruce's adult height would one day reach 188 cm.
Right now, at fifteen, he was only 150 cm tall.
His face was bruised, his features still boyish.
Paired with such serious words-
It was unexpectedly cute.
Morin, who looked twenty-one but had the mindset of a forty-something, shook his hand decisively.
Then, while Bruce was still dazed, Morin reached up and ruffled his hair.
Once.
Then again.
Very satisfying.
"What are you doing?!" Bruce stepped back quickly. His expression stayed composed, but his tone betrayed him.
Alfred's grip tightened on his gun.
No one was even allowed to touch him.
And this stranger had just touched the young master's head.
Unacceptable.
"That's my unique healing method," Morin said calmly, clearly pleased. "Highly effective."
"The ten million only covers basic training and planning. If you want my special healing method like just now, that costs extra."
"What kind of nonsense- I don't need-" Bruce began to refuse.
Then warmth flowed from the top of his head.
It spread through his body.
Every lingering ache vanished under a soothing heat, so comfortable it nearly made him groan.
He suppressed it with effort.
Then he noticed the camera.
When did that appear?
"What are you doing?" Bruce asked through clenched composure.
"Recording your body's reaction," Morin said seriously, lying without hesitation. "Different physiques respond differently. Seems... the effect is excellent."
He put the camera away and handed Bruce a mirror.
"...?"
Where did that mirror come from?
Bruce took it anyway.
And froze.
"Master..." Alfred whispered.
"The bruises are gone."
"Not just my face," Bruce said, testing his body. His voice carried restrained shock. "The pain is gone too."
Everything felt normal.
Perfectly normal.
In his experience, injuries like that would take at least a week to recover-even with top-tier medical care.
This had been instant.
But-
"Money isn't an issue," Bruce said, forcing himself to stay focused. "I only have one question."
"Does this healing method require... touching the head?"
As he spoke, a large hand rubbed his hair again.
A person should not-
"Of course not," Morin laughed. "But in traditional Chinese terms, this is a 'three flowers gather at the crown' situation. Treating the head is simply fastest."
"I see," Bruce said, relieved. "Then let's change the location."
"That only leaves the butt~"
"!!!"
Bruce immediately backtracked.
"The head is fine!"
"Good," Morin nodded, satisfied. "Now let's discuss the price."
In truth, Morin could heal Bruce from a distance.
But ruffling teenage hair at this age felt far too good to pass up.
A little unethical.
"Sir," Alfred said stiffly. "Shouldn't this be included in the training?"
Money aside, Alfred sensed something off.
"No," Morin shook his head. "The ten million is only for fitness guidance and training plans."
"It's like a gym membership. Extra services cost extra."
"Another ten million?" Bruce asked.
"This is different," Morin said, smiling like a merchant. "You already know this isn't normal. I call it... magic."
"Two hundred million a year."
"Add ten million and teach me the magic," Bruce said calmly.
Bruce learned fast.
Instant healing justified the term.
"Planting a peach tree in your stomach?" Morin scoffed. "Using a service and mastering it are different things."
"Then another ten million," Bruce replied evenly. "Thirty million total, plus the original ten. Forty million."
"And what does that phrase mean?"
"It means wishful thinking," Morin waved him off.
"Fifty million," Morin said decisively. "Ten million for training and planning. Forty million to teach healing magic, with free use during instruction."
"Healing magic..." Bruce considered. "Does that mean you know other magic too?"
"Tsk. I do," Morin admitted. "Want another package? Guaranteed learning~"
"How much to learn everything?" Bruce asked directly.
He could already see the trap.
Morin laughed.
"What?" Bruce frowned. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Yes," Morin said, amused. "A big thing."
"Forget learning speed. How's your memory?"
"Excellent," Bruce replied. "Photographic."
"Even so," Morin said, smiling, "you couldn't learn everything I know. Not even if you did nothing else."
"If you insist, we can discuss it later."
"...Alright."
Only then did Bruce realize he'd been led straight into an impulse purchase.
Morin was very satisfied.
This was marketing.
If payment timing didn't affect his experience gain, he might have sold everything at once and jumped straight to Master rank in his [Gym Coach] profession.
Teaching magic on the side was perfectly normal.
Especially when short on funds and experience.
"Then," Morin said pleasantly, turning to Alfred, "I'll need Bruce's current training schedule."
"And the other coaches can be dismissed."
"I also have his physical condition reports," Alfred said. "Would you like copies?"
Alfred could accept magic.
What he couldn't accept was unclear intent.
He didn't voice it.
If Morin was dangerous, either he lacked the ability to act now-or planned something subtler.
Either way, investigation and vigilance were mandatory.
That head-ruffle might even have been a spell.
Alfred exchanged a glance with Bruce.
They agreed.
"No need," Morin said lightly. "My methods are more accurate."
A simple detection spell was enough.
As for their suspicions-
He didn't need telepathy.
Bruce was naturally cautious.
He planned contingencies for everyone.
Teammates included.
If Morin guessed right, an anti-Morin plan was already being drafted.
He didn't mind.
Against absolute power, planning was meaningless.
As long as Bruce didn't build some absurd armor, things would stay manageable.
Besides, with the influence of his Heart of Justice and his actions, Alfred would trust him soon enough.
And Bruce?
Teenage years were perfect for shaping values.
As a fitness coach, guiding future development-and a little psychology-was only natural.
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