Ian's score on the college entrance exam in his previous life was ideal.
However, his social experience, both in his last life and this one, was not ideal. Even so, Ian felt that he should at least receive some basic adult respect.
"Did someone forget to say thank you?" Seeing both the cashier and the robber looking utterly confused, Ian spoke again in a slightly reminding tone, trying to prompt the robber.
"What are you talking about? Get lost!" The robber snapped back to attention and shouted angrily at Ian. The small-caliber pistol in his hand gestured at Ian as if it were performing a rap song.
"Don't waste my time, kid. I have three other places to rob today!" It must be said that this robber was definitely a rare industrious person of his profession.
He scheduled a very full workload for himself.
It was understandable.
After all, right next door to Metropolis was the distinguished city of Gotham, which frequently saw an overflow or displacement of talent into Metropolis. Some streets were even populated by common citizens who sold goods, accepted clients, and disposed of bodies.
"Hmm? Rude Mr. Robber? I thought your choice of mask showed good taste!" Ian stood still, unfazed by the robber's threat.
The man, whose head was covered with a stocking, was close to a breakdown.
"Damn it! What do you want?" He held the gun in his right hand, pressing two fingers to his temple, looking utterly exasperated with Ian.
"Thank you! Thank you! There! Is that enough!"
Finally.
The robber was unable to win the standoff with Ian.
"Hmm, okay, please continue your work, sir." Ian, having received the respect he wanted, turned and left again, satisfied. He knew he should try to blend into the background of this world and that as a [Common NPC], he shouldn't overly involve himself in all kinds of events.
Saving the world and maintaining peace were the jobs of superheroes. They were blessed by the will of the universe and could rush in with enthusiasm. But common NPCs like Ian had more to consider.
The same action.
If superheroes did it, they might succeed brilliantly, but if an ordinary NPC with no good fortune did it, they would likely end up as the hero whom the superheroes would "remember" and mourn. For this very reason, the man was fulfilling the duties of a robber, and Ian felt he should respect the daily social routine of Metropolis.
Only by doing so.
Would an ordinary NPC like him not be dragged out one day to be mourned and remembered. Honestly, Ian had self-awareness. Common NPCs should do what common NPCs should do.
Eat, sleep, enjoy life, and secretly get stronger.
"Crunch, crunch."
Ian munched on his sandwich and drank his Coca-Cola, fiercely building muscle while walking out of the store. Only after watching him fully leave did the relieved robber turn his head back.
"Listen up, let's continue... don't think I'm a nice guy. If that kid were an adult, I'd shoot him dead!" The robber resumed his role.
He bared his teeth to maintain his ferocity, loudly threatening the cashier again, "Give me all the money! And all the unmarked gift cards!"
"And those few cartons of Marlboros over there! And throw in a lighter!" The robber's goals were exceptionally clear. He even pulled a large black plastic bag from his waist.
A clear sign of vast experience.
Well prepared.
Just at that moment.
"Welcome~"
The welcoming bell at the entrance rang again.
"????????"
The robber's expression was truly spectacular. He watched the damned teenager walk back in. The stocking over his head was nearly sucked into his throat from gasping in shock.
"What else do you want!?"
The collapsing robber was moments away from screaming at the sky.
"Nothing, I'm not here for you. I just had a small flash of genius regarding financial management." Ian walked up to the counter and looked at the cashier, who was packing items for the robber.
He carefully weighed his words.
"Well... I wanted to ask, since this store is already destined to be completely cleaned out today, can you refund the thirty dollars and forty-five cents I just paid you?"
Ian maintained his politeness, speaking with a slightly sheepish tone under the increasingly bewildered gaze of the robber. The cashier, in his twenty-something years of life, had truly never encountered this situation.
"Huh?"
The cashier looked utterly lost.
"Your store has insurance anyway. They'll pay you whatever you're owed. Refunding my money creates a win-win-win situation. Everyone gets to have a beautiful day."
Ian was demonstrating his nascent negotiation skills. He felt his reasoning was flawless and certainly didn't fail his staggering intelligence of 2.4.
Superman had a super brain. Ian, as Superman's son, even if adopted, naturally had one too! His super brain told him he could save a small expense here.
Think about it!
He got his money back, which meant that in the illicit trade market, the flow of dollars for things like white powder contraband would be reduced by at least thirty dollars and forty-five cents!
This was what they called macroeconomic regulation in economics, a subject he had never even studied! Besides, wasn't this also a contribution to the stability and peace of Metropolis?
Hmm!
He hadn't disgraced the title of the Son of Superman!
"What do you say?"
Ian, satisfied with his own logic, looked at the cashier with expectant eyes.
"Uh... what beautiful day do I get?" The cashier felt something was off, yet he inexplicably found the boy's argument quite sound.
He just didn't understand where *he* won.
"You get a few days off because of this. Maybe if you give yourself a few hard knocks, you could even claim worker's compensation." Ian's answer was simply unassailable.
"I can do that?"
The cashier slapped his forehead, suddenly realizing the potential. He looked somewhat inquiringly at the silent robber. It took the robber a long time to process Ian's line of thought.
"Doesn't that mean I lose money?"
The Black robber frowned, sounding displeased. He finally grasped that Ian's actions would reduce his take for the day by thirty dollars and forty-five cents.
"..."
The cashier looked back at Ian.
"You can pretend I never came in to buy the sandwich?" Ian blinked, making the suggestion. His statement, which completely ignored the facts, made the Black robber fall silent again.
The cashier nervously swallowed.
Just when he thought the robber might be about to explode.
"The kid's right. Hurry up, give him his thirty dollars back, and we all get to have a beautiful day!" The robber used his gun to gesture threateningly at the cashier a few times.
"It's thirty dollars and forty-five cents."
Ian quietly reminded him.
The robber looked at him, then at the cashier, and nodded, agreeing to refund that exact amount.
"..."
The cashier was utterly numb.
"Here."
He counted out thirty dollars and forty-five cents and handed it to Ian.
"You know how to count, right? You look like a student, you have that student... how should I put it, nerve." The robber watched Ian take the refund, and his eyes truly spun once. Then, he suddenly asked a question that seemed completely unrelated to the current situation.
It was quite abrupt.
But Ian simply thought the other person had a messed-up thought process.
"You have that kind of insight? Being a robber is beneath you!"
Ian's reply was essentially an admission.
And after Ian nodded in slight admiration, the robber immediately spoke with expectation, "Great! Quick! Calculate for me! How much tax do I need to report for this job!"
This was truly the moment of truth.
Good heavens.
Someone who was a robber was still a tax-abiding American citizen? This truly astonished Ian. He was utterly shocked, feeling like he had learned something new yet again.
Metropolis taught him new things every day.
"Hmm? You don't want me to take your thirty dollars back, do you?" The robber began to threaten him. It was clear that the robber's agreement to Ian's refund request was rooted in the idea of "utilizing" Ian.
It must be said.
This was impressive, and rare.
***
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