American comic book: Transmigrated into Dior and adopted by the Wayne family

"You shouldn't be showing so much money here, Dior."

A brown-haired girl wearing a green knit sweater walked over. She had buck teeth and a chubby face.

"Remember to be careful later."

"Is that so?" Dio raised his chin, turning around arrogantly. "And who are you?"

He looked the girl up and down, but his brows slowly furrowed.

He recognized the face.

It seems to be an old neighbor from the East District, they live very close by.

At that time, I don't think I had awakened my cheat ability yet.

Correct!

Her father, Mario, was a drinking buddy of her scumbag father.

The name seems to be.....

"Ivy?"

"Mario's daughter, I remember you. What are you doing here?"

"My father was accused of murdering the Waynes, and my mother committed suicide."

Ivy shrugged, her pale face showing no sadness, only indifference.

"Wait? Your father's full name is Mario Pepper? Your full name is Ivy Pepper?"

[Key figure detected: Poison Ivy Pepper]

Dio glanced at the panel, then looked down at the disheveled girl in front of him, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

Buck teeth, dry, yellow hair, and a pale complexion due to malnutrition.

He remembered that Ivy from the East District wasn't like this; she just had a slightly strange personality.

No, it seems she has always been like this, but I have never really paid attention to this unremarkable girl.

"Of course, my dad's last name is Pepper, so of course my last name is Pepper too."

Ivy gave him a strange look, then glanced at Alfred behind him, and lowered her voice.

"Dio, are you being kept by some rich old man? I heard they like guys like you."

[Your excellent disguise skills have successfully aroused Poison Ivy's pity for you, points +100]

You've misunderstood.

Dior's face darkened, and he subtly took half a step back, distancing himself from the strange smell emanating from her.

"I was adopted by the Wayne family."

"Wayne? You're really lucky. I'm not like that."

Ivy pouted, but there wasn't a hint of envy in her eyes for Dior.

"I was sent to the north of the state."

"The people who adopted me are very kind, but they just want to cut my hair."

"So I ran back by myself."

"Tsk, let's get down to business, Ivy, everyone around us has left."

Dior never had much patience for women, especially those who were not yet fully developed.

Ivy has gone through all this trouble, talking nonsense the whole time, so she clearly has something to say.

However, it's understandable. If a teenager gets a thousand dollars, he should be careful in this place.

After all, it's a flea market; you can find anything there, including scum and drug addicts.

Ivy nodded:

"I've seen the kitten, and the black-haired one next to her."

"They went to the factory on Naihe Island and found the receiver of stolen goods, Clyde."

"Understood. Alfred, give her the money, I'll go inside and check."

Dior gave him a look, then turned and walked toward the dressing room made of tarpaulin.

It was all part of the plan; displaying the money in the open space earlier was intentional on his part.

Street children are the most well-informed group in Gotham; they are everywhere and the most observant.

Being able to subdue this group is like having an extra pair of eyes and ears.

This is the foundation for climbing to the top.

Of course, every good thing has its risks.

What he needs to do is keep the risks within an acceptable range.

I just got a lot of points...

So!

Let's draw!

A few seconds later, the results came out.

A string of US dollars came flying in, with a copy of "Alfred Pennyworth's Guide to Seduction" sandwiched in between.

Dior took a deep breath, looked intently at the old butler through the tarpaulin, and his eye twitched.

carry on.

It was US dollars again, cola, gold earrings, cola again, and suddenly a flash of gold.

[Joseph Joestar's Crossdressing Tips]

[Description: A unique camouflage technique that makes enemies afraid to look directly at your imposing figure]

[P.S.: This is a form of mental pollution that even German soldiers in World War II couldn't stand; it's the perfect disguise for muscular men.]

OH NO! !!!

Dior leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

Old man! Get out!

Hey!

"These are my last points!"

He put all his last points into the bet.

The turntable rotated again.

Wheelchair, earrings, rapier, basic rapier sword techniques----

The turntable stopped.

The tarot card with the image of a chariot rapidly magnified in the field of vision, only to be cleaved in two by a sharp rapier.

[Stand - Silver Chariot]

The muscle memory of a young, silver-haired swordsman relentlessly slashing under the setting sun was etched into Dio's mind.

Dior paused for a moment as he rummaged through Bruce's clothes, his eyes sparkling with surprise!

Silver Chariot?

A blankboard substitute is fine!

He's handsome, that's all!

Swordsmanship is something that can be learned through self-study, and Alfred is one of the best swordsmen.

He lacks everything except time and perseverance.

With tanks and sexy pistols, one for close combat and one for long-range, the shortcomings have been made up.

"This feeling...this feeling."

Dio gazed at the silver chariot standing silently before him, a pleased smile playing on his lips as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"I've never felt so happy and relaxed before, I'm so incredibly excited!!!"

After a while.

The tarpaulin was lifted.

Dior emerged from the shadows with a composed gait, his shoulders relaxed, his footsteps so light they were almost silent.

Alfred stood still, his pupils slightly contracted.

Just like Master Bruce, there wasn't a sound!

He then realized that he had been holding his breath without even realizing it.

It's like a primal bodily reaction.

He didn't come to his senses until Dio walked past him, stirring up a gust of wind.

"Young Master Dior," Alfred called out to him instinctively.

Dior didn't turn around, nor did he stop walking; he simply tilted his head slightly.

"Stay here, Alfred."

"I'm very good at dealing with these kinds of people."

He walked towards the dark staircase at the end of the flea market.

The creaking sound of climbing the stairs was slow and rhythmic, unhurried and deliberate.

Alfred casually picked up a drumstick from the side, clenched his fist, handed the money he had just counted to Ivy, and followed her.

Dio's ears twitched as he listened to the footsteps chasing after him and turned around.

Alfred was already following behind him, keeping a half-step distance.

"Young Master Dior."

"Please take this."

A watch called Breitling Bentley 6.75 was handed to me.

Dio looked down, then looked up in surprise.

"This is your favorite watch."

Are you sure you can bear to part with it?

Alfred did not answer, but instead asked another question:

"Remember the trick I told you? What to do when you encounter a big guy?"

"Exhaust his strength and strike him hard."

Alfred nodded in satisfaction:

"Remember not to break it."

"Young Master Dior."

-----------------

Please, all you godfathers, read this on the 31st of this month! Waaaaah!

I'm begging you!

Barley