Help?
Helping was impossible. Absolutely impossible in this lifetime.
Just kidding. After being reborn, Lynn's greatest goal was simple—eat well, drink plenty, play hard, and enjoy life. Don't forget—This is the person who wanted a little Homicide in the 1st chapter, so his progress would increase just 1%.
He'd worked himself to death in his previous world. If he kept doing the same thing here, wouldn't that make transmigration pointless?
Besides, this world already had superheroes to protect it. All he needed to do was keep getting stronger and live comfortably.
Maybe once he reached a higher level, he could even visit other planets—and who knew, maybe meet a few gorgeous alien women while he was at it.
With that thought, Lynn drove off with the Truth Serum and headed straight back to the hotel to find Skye.
...
A week later—Manhattan Police Precinct.
Stepping into the precinct lobby, Lynn spread his arms and called out, "Hey everyone, miss me? Your old man Lynn is back!"
The moment they heard his voice, every detective in the room turned and flipped him off.
Jennifer, dressed in a blue police uniform that perfectly outlined her curves, walked over with a cup of coffee in hand.
"So this is the kind of attention you like."
Handing him the cup, a teasing glint flashed in her bright blue eyes. "Is this why you turned down my date invitation, Daddy?"
Watching Jennifer trace her lips with the tip of her tongue, Lynn took the coffee and shrugged. "It's not my fault, Jennifer. You know George is my boss."
"He warned me not to date anyone from the precinct. My hands are tied. To keep this job, I can only reluctantly turn down the kindness of a beauty like you."
Hearing that, Jennifer frowned. "What's wrong with George? It's mutual—why wouldn't he allow it?"
Meanwhile, Sean—the resident simp—nearly jumped up with joy at Lynn's words. If George Stacy ran for governor right then, Sean would've been the first to vote for him.
"But that's fine."
Jennifer stepped closer, her voice soft as she reached up to adjust the collar of Lynn's black trench coat. "We could always date in secret. George wouldn't have to know, right?~~"
Her faint perfume drifted between them, and Lynn felt her brush lightly against him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sean watching with a devastated expression, silently begging him for mercy.
"Forget it, Jennifer," Lynn said with a half-smile. "You're a good girl."
"My dear, you deserve something real—a better love, a proper family. Not a fleeting affair with a playboy like me."
With that, he leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek before walking off with his coffee.
As Lynn left, Sean's eyes shone with gratitude—he looked ready to kneel right there and call him Dad.
Jennifer, however, stood rooted to the spot, her gaze fixed on Lynn's retreating figure, her eyes glimmering with a dazed infatuation.
Back in the office, Lynn took off his trench coat, hung it on the rack, and let out a long sigh of relief.
Just kidding—sure, Jennifer was the precinct's resident beauty.
But really, which of the girls Lynn had dated wasn't prettier than her?
More importantly, if he actually got involved with Jennifer, she'd cling to him nonstop.
With so many beautiful women waiting out there, he wasn't stupid enough to give up an entire forest for one tree.
Not long after, George Stacy walked in, holding a bag in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
"What's going on?"
Setting the coffee on the desk, George frowned slightly. "Why did Jennifer snort at me just now? She looked so sour when she saw me."
"How should I know?"
Leaning back in his chair with his legs propped on the desk, Lynn said lazily, "Maybe it's her time of the month? You know how it is—women need a little more understanding during those days."
"We men can't really experience that, so the least we can do is be considerate."
George stared at him, feeling something was definitely off about that statement.
But before he could figure out what exactly, he sighed, opened his bag, and pulled out a lunchbox.
Inside were three neatly cut sandwiches.
Seeing the sandwiches, Lynn didn't hesitate. He dropped his legs from the desk, reached over, and grabbed one without a second thought.
George Stacy didn't even flinch—he was long used to his partner's shameless behavior.
"Mmm, not bad," Lynn said between bites. "Did Helen make these? Or Gwen?"
At the mention of his daughter, George's expression softened into fatherly pride. "Gwen made them. Got up early this morning just to pack my lunch. Sometimes, I can't believe that Gwen's all grown up—"
Halfway through his sentence, George froze and gave Lynn a sharp look. "Hold it right there! Don't forget what I told you—stay away from Gwen!"
The overprotective father's warning was met with Lynn's middle finger. "I told you, I'm not interested in minors."
"And even when she turns eighteen next year—it's still a no!"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. My ears are already calloused from hearing it."
Lynn waved dismissively and popped the last bite of sandwich into his mouth.
Just as he reached for a second piece, George snapped the lunchbox shut. "These are the sandwiches my daughter made for me. If you're hungry, buy your own."
"Look at you, stingy as ever."
With nothing left to eat, Lynn grabbed a tissue to wipe his hands, then picked up a magazine from the desk and started flipping through it casually.
George Stacy carefully placed the lunchbox into his drawer.
Still not feeling reassured, he took the extra step of locking it.
"Really? No trust between colleagues anymore? George, that's just heartbreaking," Lynn said, feigning offense.
Ignoring him, George picked up a case file and started reading.
After some time, the phone on the desk suddenly rang.
George set the file down, answered, and said quickly, "Understood, we'll be right there."
The moment he hung up, he stood and said to Lynn, "Something's happened. We need to back up our team—get bulletproof vests and submachine guns, now!"
Seeing George's serious expression, Lynn knew it wasn't a minor situation.
If the Criminal Investigation Division was being dispatched—and issued vests and automatic weapons—it had to be something big.
After gearing up at the armory, Lynn returned to find George finishing another phone call.
They strapped on their bulletproof vests and stepped outside. More than thirty officers from the Manhattan Precinct were already fully armed and assembled.
"Such a big mobilization?" Lynn asked. "Don't tell me the aliens are back. If that's the case, we should be calling the Avengers. Our gear's not exactly alien-proof!"
Taking the submachine gun from Lynn's hands, George shook his head. "No, it's not aliens—but it's still very serious."
_______
(づ￣ 3￣)づ
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