The afternoon sun was warm and lazy.
The three siblings walked slowly along the paths of Central Park.
The surrounding scenery was beautiful: green lawns, a shimmering lake, pedestrians strolling leisurely, and children running and playing.
In the distance, the skyscrapers of Manhattan were faintly visible, like a backdrop of modern civilization.
Thor looked around, full of curiosity about everything.
"Big Sister, what are those people doing?" He pointed at a group of people in the distance.
Mavuika looked over—it was a group of children playing soccer.
"Playing soccer, a type of game."
Thor's eyes lit up. "A game? Can I go?"
Mavuika looked at the group of children; the oldest was only about ten years old.
"...You'd scare them if you went over."
Thor was a bit disappointed, but he still stood there for a long time, watching the children run, shout, and fight for that black-and-white ball on the grass.
"Looks quite interesting," he muttered.
After walking for a while longer, the sound of music drifted over.
It was the sound of a guitar, accompanied by a young man's deep singing voice.
Thor stopped in his tracks.
He followed the sound—under the shade of a tree not far away, a young man in a plaid shirt sat playing a guitar. An open guitar case lay before him, with a few scattered bills and coins inside.
"This is..." Thor's voice held a hint of excitement, "a bard?"
Mavuika paused for a moment, then nodded. "You could say that."
Thor strode over and stood before the young man, listening intently to his song.
It was an ordinary pop song about love and parting.
But Thor listened very seriously, his expression shifting between focus and emotion.
When the song ended, Thor clapped vigorously.
"Good! Well sung!"
The young man looked up, saw the tall blonde man in front of him, blinked in surprise, and then smiled shyly.
"Thank you."
Thor knelt down and pulled a few bills from his pocket—the pocket money Mavuika had given him that morning—and placed them in the guitar case.
The young man's eyes lit up. "Thank you, sir!"
Thor grinned. "Don't mention it! I like listening to bards sing too!"
The young man was a bit confused. "bard?"
Mavuika walked over and pulled Thor away.
"Let's go, don't bother the man."
Thor looked back reluctantly. "But his song was really good..."
Mavuika sighed.
"If you like it, I'll take you to a Concert later."
Thor's eyes sparkled. "A Concert? What's that?"
"It's where many people gather to listen to someone sing."
Thor was excited. "Great! I want to go!"
Loki didn't follow them to see the 'bard.'
He stopped by a bench near the lake.
Two old men were playing Chess there.
Loki stood to the side, watching quietly.
The situation on the board was complex, with the black and white pieces interlocked like dog's teeth.
Both old men were focused; one was frowning deeply, while the other had a faint smile on his lips.
Loki watched for a few minutes, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.
He understood it.
This wasn't just a simple game; it was a strategic gamble, a contest of wisdom and patience.
Every move hid a killing intent, and every decision could affect the entire game.
It was a bit like the things he usually did.
"Interesting," he said softly.
The frowning old man suddenly looked up at him.
"Young man, do you know how to play?"
Loki thought for a moment. "A little."
The old man smiled and pointed to the empty seat opposite him; his opponent had just gotten up to take a call. "Come, play a round with me."
Loki glanced at the seat, then at the old man.
Then he sat down.
Fifteen minutes later.
The old man looked at the board and fell silent.
His King was checkmated, even though his Queen and Rook were still on the board and his advantage had seemed immense.
But he had lost.
The old man looked up at the young man across from him.
That young face wore a faint smile, and his emerald eyes shimmered with a certain... light that he couldn't see through.
"You..." the old man began, his voice a bit dry, "who did you learn from?"
Loki thought for a moment. "Self-taught."
The old man fell silent.
Loki stood up and gave a slight bow.
"Thank you for the lesson."
He turned and left, leaving the old man sitting there, staring blankly at the chessboard.
Mavuika and Thor happened to walk over.
"You won?" Mavuika asked.
Loki nodded.
Thor asked curiously, "Won what?"
Loki: "Chess."
Thor scratched his head. "You know how to play Chess?"
Loki glanced at him. "I know many things you don't."
Thor curled his lip, not bothering to argue with him.
Just as the three were preparing to leave the park, they suddenly heard a commotion in the distance.
It was the sound of an argument, mixed with a woman's crying.
Thor's ears twitched.
He stopped in his tracks.
"What's going on over there?"
Mavuika heard it too. She frowned slightly.
Loki looked up toward the direction of the sound.
"Sounds... not good."
Thor had already turned and was walking that way.
"Let's go see."
Mavuika and Loki exchanged a glance and followed him.
The sound was coming from an alleyway on the west side of Central Park.
Thor rounded the street corner and saw this scene—
Three flashily dressed men were surrounding a middle-aged couple.
The leader was a bald man with a face full of rough flesh, a thick gold chain around his neck, and a cigarette in his mouth.
His two henchmen wore floral shirts; one held a baseball bat, and the other was flicking a folding knife.
The man was in his fifties with graying hair and fresh bruises on his face, shielding the woman behind him.
The woman had tear tracks on her face and was clutching a manila envelope tightly to her chest, trembling all over.
"...The interest must be paid today!" the bald man's voice was arrogant. "You wouldn't be unaware of Mr. Kingpin's rules, would you?"
He raised his foot and kicked over a nearby trash can.
The trash can rolled a few times, spilling garbage everywhere.
Nearby pedestrians detoured around them; no one dared to step forward.
The man pleaded bitterly, "We've already paid the interest three times, and half the principal... why has the interest gone up again? Mr. Viktor, I beg you, give us a few more days..."
The bald man named Viktor sneered.
"A few more days? You think Mr. Kingpin is running a charity?" He exhaled a puff of smoke. "I'm telling you, today is the final deadline. Either pay up, or—"
His gaze fell on the woman, his mouth twisting into a disgusting smile.
"Or bring your daughter here. I hear your daughter is quite good-looking; maybe she could..."
The man's face turned deathly pale.
"No, no! Mr. Viktor, I beg you..."
Viktor shoved him aside and reached out to grab the envelope from the woman's arms.
The woman screamed, holding onto the envelope for dear life.
At that moment, a hand gripped Viktor's wrist.
The strength in that hand was staggering; Viktor felt as if his wrist were caught in an iron vise, unable to move an inch.
He turned and saw a tall, blonde, muscular man standing behind him.