Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 267 This world has been saved, but what about me?
P.S.: The next chapter will be a little later.

Gary Lester was born a loser.

He bought ice cream from street thugs, learned magic from all sorts of random magic books, befriended Constantine, and even went to Newcastle with him.

The three things he did last in his life were: first, to let Namos go; second, to find Constantine and ask him to resolve the mess he had created; and third, to wait until tomorrow.

Ironically, he lived his whole life in a daze, and his death may have been more meaningful than his entire life combined.

Whether this statement is right or wrong, at least that's how Constantine convinced himself in his heart.

"Come on, listen, Gates is an idiot, he got what he deserved." Constantine vented his anger on the bed, yelling at the four "people" by the window, "Of course you can just die and then despise what I did—whatever guilt you feel, it's all on me, this scum, who has to deal with them!"

Guilt is proof of survival—this is a phrase he has used countless times to comfort himself. He repeats this phrase to himself again and again, using it to hypnotize himself and get a good night's sleep.

"Alright, I've finished speaking." He said coldly to the four undead in the room, "Now, you can get out of here. I'm going to sleep—remember to close the door when you leave."

A moment later, the room fell into darkness, with only a few scattered lights streaming in from the windows, providing a faint glow. Being at the top of the building, the sounds of traffic and people could only penetrate slightly, making the room feel even more silent.

Constantine stayed in bed, unable to sleep.

A moment later, he turned the light back on and scanned the empty room—there was nothing around him but himself.

A suffocating sense of loneliness welled up inside him. One second he was cursing Emma and the others to leave, but the next second he began to miss them and Emma's soft arms.

He turned off the light, drew the curtains, and lay back down on the bed, this time completely enveloped by suffocating darkness.

Good night, John.

Half-asleep, a gentle female voice rang in Constantine's ears, completely crushing his fragile nerves.

Constantine buried his head in the pillow, trying to suppress the tears that welled up in his eyes and the low sobs. A moment later, he tasted the wet tears on the corner of his mouth; they tasted salty and bitter.

Ma Zhaodi snapped off the bugging device and walked into the Midnight Building.

He couldn't listen anymore.

After parting ways with Constantine, he had some doubts, so he followed him to see what he was up to.

As it turned out, this guy actually took a taxi to the casino.

After Zha Kang ran into the casino, he didn't follow him in. He wasn't a gambler and didn't have any particular fondness for gambling. It wasn't a form of labor recognized by the system and couldn't help him increase his asset points.

So he turned around and went back to the church first, to make sure that no one would be tempted to remove the talismans on it. Fortunately, the priest reacted quickly. When Ma Zhaodi returned, he saw that the other party had already found several church staff members to temporarily isolate the church.

Ma Zhaodi simply asked for the priest's phone number and relayed the information, along with news from the church, to Midnight. Having finished these important matters, he had nothing else to do, so he went straight back to the Midnight Building.

It wasn't until he returned to his room that he realized Constantine hadn't come back and hadn't explained the plans for the next day, which was very unusual—it was already late at night, was this guy going to spend the night at the casino? Although generally speaking, comics don't feature bizarre scenarios like "missing the world-saving plan because of gambling, leading to the destruction of the world," the possibility of this happening with Constantine is small, but definitely not zero.

So he unlocked Constantine's room, made sure no one was there, then casually placed a listening device under the bed before heading out to the midnight casino.

Strangely, he walked around the casino twice, but he couldn't see Constantine anywhere, nor could he hear him. All signs pointed to the fact that the guy wasn't in the casino.

So he found a waiter, tipped him, and asked if he had seen a blond Englishman in a trench coat. Only then did he learn that Constantine had come looking for Midnight, but hadn't found him.

What exactly is he planning to do tonight?

Ma Zhaodi was filled with doubt. He hadn't dared to plant a listening device directly on Constantine, firstly because the guy was a mage, and secondly because the other was a seasoned conman who might not be unaware of what he had done. But now, he was starting to regret it. This complete silence seemed like he was planning something big.

It wasn't until he was walking down the street that he heard Constantine's voice coming from the bug.

"Jesus, what bad thing have I done to deserve this sin!"

Hearing Constantine's hysterical voice, Ma Zhaodi raised an eyebrow—his emotions seemed somewhat unstable.

"What the hell?! What do you want?! Why the hell are you stuffing my room full of dead people?!"

Oh my, that's pretty exciting.

Ma Zhaodi immediately pulled out his bicycle and rushed to the Midnight Building, straining his ears to catch every word—he knew that a jerk like Zha Kang was never short of gossip, and he was going to feast on the gossip.

But when he arrived at the Midnight Building, he found he couldn't stomach the gossip anymore.

"What right do you have to look down on me! What do you want me to say? Evanti killed you all, so I'm sad—of course I'm sad, you know? It almost killed me too!"

“Like Leicester, he’s becoming a bargaining chip now—but do you think I don’t want to find another way!”

Ma Zhaodi's expression suddenly turned serious. He never expected to overhear Constantine's past and his struggles.

Most importantly, he had already figured out what Constantine was planning to do to Leicester—to orchestrate such a plan for his own friend made him a truly despicable scoundrel.

But what he said next was right, because it was the only way to get rid of Namos, and if no one was willing to do the dirty work, New York would be doomed.

Someone has to be the one to do it, but not everyone is willing to be the one to do it—and Constantine is perfect for the role.

But people got one thing wrong: Constantine wasn't born bad; he knew what was right and what was wrong.

So, sometimes, when he closes his eyes alone in the dead of night, he hears the silent accusations of his innermost feelings against the world.

The world has been saved, but what about me?
Where can the soul named "Constantine" find peace?

(End of this chapter)