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

Chapter 33 Death! grim Reaper?
It's more than just stabbing yourself twice.

Even stabbing someone in the heart twice wouldn't be a problem!
What's this!
It's packed with experience from the Berserker class! Ian was starting to regret not getting along better with Death Goddess Tessa; otherwise, he would have shamelessly asked her for a long-term curse.

"Even if we're not that close, I can still be shameless."

The automatic glass doors of Metropolitan General Hospital reflected Ian's impenetrable face. He stared at his blurry reflection, his fingers unconsciously stroking the pendant on his chest.

"Yes, I also have the boss of the Grim Reapers paying attention... There's a chance, there's a chance, the DC Universe needs its own Deadpool! What the Marvel Universe has, the DC Universe should have too!"

Ian found a moral high ground for himself, and he was also somewhat amazed by the power of Death. It was as if, in the story of *Supernatural*, Death could even bring the dead back to life?
to be frank.

This American TV series is really too old; even with his excellent memory, he can't quite remember all the details. Just as Ian was thinking about going back and figuring out how to build himself a mental palace...

"Give way!"

A frantic shout came from behind. Ian dodged to the side, and an ambulance whizzed past him, its wheels screeching against the tiles.

The man on the cart was ashen-faced, with half a steel bar stuck in his chest, and blood dripping along his path, forming a broken red line—no matter the world, there is a hardworking and dangerous working class.

“Capitalists should all hang themselves on streetlights, except me. I’ll definitely be a capitalist with a conscience in the future.” Ian knew that even a few crocodile tears wouldn’t help the dying man.

All he could do was avoid causing trouble for the medical staff.

Following the signs, Ian found the hospital building—he went to the restroom first, and more than ten minutes later, he came out looking radiant and excited, and washed the bright red knife.

Fortunately, no one saw it.

When Ian arrived inside the hospital building, the young nurse in charge of registration at the ward nurse station was organizing medical records, her chestnut ponytail swaying gently with her movements.

Ian took a deep breath and gave a perfectly timed smile. “Hello, I’m a student at Brewster High School, writing a report for the school about the Starliner Flight 143 crash.”

“Not only is the public paying attention to this, but we students are also concerned about the victims. Could you tell me which ward the survivors have been placed in?”

Ian not only maintained his politeness, but also deliberately misspoke in a low voice. He was of course not a high school student, but that did not prevent him from impersonating one.

"You want to interview the patients?"

Nurse Kate initially raised her head with a frown, but upon seeing the exceptionally handsome boy standing opposite her, her otherwise pretty face underwent a dramatic transformation.

"Are you one of the patients from Star Airlines? Students these days are so kind-hearted." Perhaps the nurse wanted to refuse at first, but now her attitude was genuinely good.

The value of "your words have a reason" is still increasing.

“Yes, I am a campus reporter.” Ian pulled out a psychic card from his wallet and waved it in front of the nurse, but the nurse just kept staring at his face.

The tips of the ears are slightly red.

"..."

Ian was somewhat unwilling to give up. He was determined to use the magical item he had, so he handed the card to the nurse, who was finally affected by its power.

In reality, Ian probably wouldn't encounter any obstacles even with or without the power of the cards.

"Wow, you're actually the campus's chief reporter, that's amazing." It turns out that women also know how to provide emotional value; she even thoughtfully stood up and walked out of the nurses' station to give Ian directions.

"It's in Zone B, wards 32 to 40 are all from that group of patients." Nurse Kate was very close, and Ian could feel her sniffing the scent of his shower gel.

"I can take you there."

The nurses' kindness continues.

"..."

Ian quickly and politely declined. He had really encountered a female pervert today. Sure enough, no matter which country you are in, nurses are among the boldest women.

"Thank you so much! You're such a kind angel!"

Ian maintained his politeness until he fled.

The nurse might be happy for a day because of this.

The smell of disinfectant was stronger in Ward B, mixed with the smell of certain medications. Ian searched around and entered one of the wards where survivors of the plane crash were staying.

“Hello, I am…” Ian said, taking out the psychic card again.

however.

"A reporter? No, a child?"

The man lying closest to the door, his leg in a cast hanging in mid-air, looked Ian up and down and asked in a hoarse voice.

"Which patient's family member are you?"

He clearly misunderstood.

"No, no, no, I'm a campus reporter. The teachers and students at the school are very concerned about this plane crash, and I'm here to find out about everyone's situation on their behalf."

Ian began his role-playing. As the child of two journalists, he had a natural advantage in playing a journalist, and he did look quite like a campus reporter.

No one doubted it.

However, just as some people like to show off their iPhones and others like to show off their luxury cars and watches, Ian still showed the magical card he had "found" to every survivor he asked.

A lot of information was collected, but most of it was useless.

For example, the flight attendant in bed 20 said that when Superman caught her, his arms felt as reliable as steel. Ian agreed with this, after all, he had felt Superman's strong arms since he was a child.

The businessman in bed 19 insisted on his claim that he saw the plane shot down by a green laser, and complained that the official investigators didn't believe him. His words, however, gave Ian some information.

Meanwhile, the old woman in bed 17 mysteriously said that Superman smelled rotten. Given her Gypsy identity, Ian couldn't help but waste a few more minutes on her.

however.

Aside from receiving responses like "You have bad luck," "Very bad luck," and "I can give you a discount," Ian, fearing that red hair would grow on his body the next moment, quickly ended the conversation. He didn't get any other useful information from the old Gypsy woman.

It wasn't until the very first man with the sling, after watching Ian ask many questions and take notes, that he spoke to Ian in his hoarse voice.

"Superman smells like chemical waste from a sewage treatment plant. I worked at a sewage treatment plant for twenty years, and I would never mistake that kind of stench."

This was definitely the most useful information Ian had gathered from his questioning. A vending machine hummed at the corner of the corridor, and Ian bought a city map to determine how many sewage treatment plants were near the metropolis.

at this time.

"The patient in bed 43 is dying!"

Medical staff rushed past, pushing a defibrillator.

Ian looked up.

I saw.

Inside the ward, doctors began to resuscitate the patient, while beside the patient's bed, a woman, seemingly invisible to everyone, stood there gently gazing at the patient.

"Tessa!"

Although the woman had changed her appearance, well, changed her clothes, Ian had exceptionally sharp eyes. From a distance, he recognized her as Tessa, the Grim Reaper who had brought him here.

He waved to the other person.

The boy with the fake smile wanted to mend the relationship between the two parties.

however.

"Huh? A human? You can see me?"

Feeling the gaze, the female Grim Reaper looked up, her mouth slightly agape in surprise. Her expression was one of confusion, and her gaze towards Ian was filled with shock and utter bewilderment.

It was as if they didn't know Ian at all.

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(End of this chapter)