American comic book: My Father is Superman, am I just an NPC?

Chapter 10 Daily life in the metropolis
Again.

Anyone who has done preparations for traveling to the DC Universe understands.

What does the Bar of Light in Los Angeles mean?

"Lucifer..."

Ian swallowed hard and murmured softly.

"what?"

Madison's ears seemed to be very sharp. "How do you know that man's name... Yes, it's that childish, someone actually named himself Lucifer Morning Star."

"That's ridiculous. He sounds like a washed-up rock singer. It's such a waste of that handsome face. You're definitely better than that damn bar owner in that respect."

Madison's acerbic wit remained consistently sharp.

Ian glanced at Madison, the blonde girl who was making disdainful comments about the King of Hell's taste, clearly unaware of who she was criticizing.

"Little delinquent girl."

He spoke suddenly.

"Ok?"

Madison looked at his deskmate with suspicion.

"I hope you can be a good person in the future and go to heaven." Ian sincerely offered his blessings, but Madison just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"I don't believe in heaven or hell, and good people can't make it in Hollywood." This was Madison's dream: to become a Hollywood star.

Ian didn't explain, he just sighed softly. Just then, another scent of perfume approached, smelling rather cheap, far inferior to Madison's taste.

A girl with brown wavy hair, holding a necklace, walked happily toward Ian, her eyes filled with anticipation.

This is Emily.

A classmate who faked falling in front of Ian more than ten times.

"Ian, you didn't come to school yesterday. Was it because you were sick?" Emily greeted Ian immediately, her expression full of concern.

Are you cursing me to get sick?

Ian frowned slightly, his focus rather peculiar.

"..."

Emily's expression froze for a moment, then she forced a smile and held up the necklace in her hand. "Okay, I misspoke. Could you please help me put this necklace on?"

“It’s a birthday present my mom gave me this morning.” She drawled out her words, emphasizing the word “birthday present.”

“My mom also gives me birthday presents on my birthday.” Ian glanced at Emily with clear eyes, then lowered his head to organize his textbooks.

The chat seemed to have died.

A hint of embarrassment flashed across Emily's face. Seeing this, a male classmate next to her immediately came over enthusiastically, smiling broadly as he said, "Let me help you."

She was a helpful classmate, but unfortunately, the freckles on her face were beyond the appropriate range, which was probably why Emily immediately withdrew her hands.

"No thanks."

She remained polite, but her refusal was also decisive. The male student was completely bewildered, standing there at a loss, the young and enthusiastic boy still not understanding why.

"Killing me."

Madison burst into laughter at the sight, collapsing onto the table and shaking her shoulders. "Hahahaha! Emily, your acting is absolutely terrible!"

She doesn't forget to make sarcastic remarks even when she's laughing.

“Mind your own business, Miss Montgomery!” Emily said bitterly, her tone indignant. Madison, however, seemed completely unfazed by her warning.

She even planned to add fuel to the fire.

“I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll teach you for free what it means to use Ian.” With that, Madison unfastened the necklace around her neck.

"Help me fasten it, you studyaholic." Madison turned his back to Ian, and as he spoke, he slapped a ten-dollar bill onto the book Ian was reading.

The next moment, Ian immediately took the necklace with practiced ease, his fingers deftly circling Madison's blond hair, fastening the clasp in less than three seconds.

Extremely skilled.

In particular, he was incredibly quick to stuff the ten dollars into his pocket.

have to say.

Madison is indeed quite wealthy.

For a middle school student, this was definitely a considerable amount of pocket money. Therefore, the large sum of money triumphed over Ian's laziness, and the knowledge in textbooks failed to defeat Alexander Hamilton.

Its power was only nine-tenths weaker than Franklin's.

That's already very strong.

"See that? That's what you call professional."

Madison glanced at Emily defiantly and took back the five dollars Ian had given her in change—the son of Superman had his own principles when it came to earning money through labor.

"Just you wait! Bitch! Don't let me see you after school!" Emily, whose expression was already somewhat unpleasant, saw this scene and immediately gritted her teeth, stomped her foot, and turned to leave.

Madison remained unfazed by her threats.

"Seriously, where did you go yesterday after skipping class? Don't tell me you went to the bookstore." Madison continued chatting with Ian, and even took out nail polish to start painting her nails.

"I didn't skip class."

Ian corrected his deskmate's choice of words.

"I took sick leave."

He demonstrated his meticulousness.

"Oh? Sick leave?"

Madison held her shiny nails up to the sunlight.

"Of course it's sick leave. My parents took me to see a psychologist." Ian didn't feel the need to hide anything; seeing a psychologist wasn't unusual in the United States.

after all.

Americans don't really have an iron will, so seeing a psychologist is actually quite common in this country, and many people don't quite understand why mental health services are so popular in the United States.

Is this a competition to see who has the worst misery?

Madison was somewhat surprised upon hearing this.

Is there a prize money if you win?

Ian once again demonstrated his unique focus. Madison curled his lip and unleashed his eye-rolling skills, a level he was certain to win the eye-rolling contest.

“I also see a psychologist often. Even if I win a prize, it's because I'm the one who wins.” She held up her palm and turned it around, trying to let the sunlight shine on her freshly painted nails.

What did your doctor say?

The blonde girl asked casually.

Ian thought about it.

"The doctor said I have some mental health issues."

He still didn't choose to hide it.

Madison scoffed, "That's how all psychologists are. They just like to scare people. How else would they make money? The key is how you see yourself."

Her words had a philosophical flavor; it was hard to imagine that a high school student who consistently got single-digit grades in every subject could say such things. Ian pondered for a moment after hearing this.

"I think my psychologist's diagnosis was a bit too conservative. To be honest, I think my mental health issues are probably at the level of the top student in our school."

He spoke seriously.

"what?"

Madison was shocked.

"You're going to compare yourself to this? Your competitive spirit is even stronger than mine?" Madison exclaimed, finding it outrageous. He looked at Ian as if he had seen some incomprehensible, unknown creature.

And at this time.

The teacher had already started the first lesson. Just as the teacher was talking about "the turning point of World War II", a deafening roar suddenly came from outside the window.

immediately.

It was a sudden, earth-shaking event.

Several students screamed and crawled under the table.

The history teacher glanced out the window, then returned to the podium, tapped the blackboard, and calmly adjusted his glasses. "There's no need for you to panic," he said.

"It's just that the plane crashed again... It won't affect everyone's classes. In Metropolis, this is normal. Superman must have already saved those unfortunate passengers."

The history teacher talked about the plane crash as if it were a casual conversation, his tone incredibly calm—no wonder it's Metropolis, which is right next to Gotham.

It truly has a certain "urban" charm.

"cool."

Madison even whistled from below.

The students all looked enlightened, and quickly accepted the history teacher's reassurance. The classroom returned to a harmonious atmosphere.

"..."

Ian's expression was quite interesting. He turned to look at the thick smoke billowing in the distance outside the classroom window, hesitated for a moment, but ultimately chose to blend into the harmonious atmosphere of the group.

He was just talking about his mental state.

At that moment, I felt that I might be the only normal person in the classroom.

Nobody realized it.

Has the plane that crashed already exploded?

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(End of this chapter)