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

After saying goodbye to Bruce Wayne,

Exhausted from a long day, Dior went into his bedroom and quickly fell asleep.

The rain was still falling, and every night, the old manor's ancient structures would emit strange noises.

Dio was wrapped in a blanket, breathing steadily, but his brows were furrowed, clearly indicating that the world in his dream was not pleasant.

If someone were to approach at this moment, they could hear him muttering words like "Wayne," "property," "flock of pigeons," and "domination."

Silent all night.

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

In the early morning, the bell on the wall rang.

"Young Master Dior, are you awake?"

"Alfred?" Dio opened his eyes, still feeling a little dizzy. "I'll get up right away."

That's how it is in large families; mealtimes are fixed, and if you miss a meal, you're on your own.

Wayne Manor is even more special.

There is only one butler in the entire manor.

Cleaning, grocery shopping, lawn mowing – all these tasks were outsourced to a company.

After Dior finished washing up, he opened the door.

Alfred stood quietly in the doorway and greeted him gently:

"Good morning, Master Dior. Did you sleep well?"

"It's not very good, it's too noisy."

"Really? After all, it's an old house."

Alfred smiled and offered to lead the way.

Dior didn't mean to make things difficult; he was just too tired.

Besides, even Zhu Yuanzhang wouldn't dare to offend the person who provided him with food, so Dior certainly wouldn't openly make things difficult for this old steward.

"We've arrived, Master Dior."

Alfred pushed open the door and stepped aside.

"it is good."

Dior went inside, and as soon as he entered, he saw a long table, a table long enough for ten strong men to lie down on.

"Um?"

Dio paused, straightened his collar, and looked at Alfred:

"Are all your dining tables this unique?"

"Young Master Bruce doesn't like this dining table either, but the Master likes it very much, so..."

"So you just decided on a whim to change the breakfast location to here? To make me feel like I belong here?"

"...Yes." Alfred nodded with difficulty.

"Okay, I might have to shout it out in a bit."

Dior didn't make things difficult for the old butler anymore, but instead looked at the chair that had been pulled out at the head of the table:

"By the way, where's Bruce? He should have been here a while ago, right?"

"Young Master Bruce... Oh my God!"

Alfred's expression changed, and after hastily apologizing to Dio, he rushed to the rooftop without stopping.

Immediately afterwards, Dior heard the refined old butler unleash one of the rarest roars of his life:

"Young Master Bruce!!! Get down here right now!!!! How many times have I told you?! Don't go on the roof!!!!"

"interesting."

Dio raised an eyebrow, pulled out a chair, picked up his knife and fork, and began eating breakfast amidst Alfred's scolding.

After the roar subsided, new guests arrived at Wayne Manor.

Dio and Bruce quickly finished their breakfast and followed Alfred to the study.

As soon as he entered, Dior recognized the person.

Jim Gordon, a GCPD detective, is a man with a buzz cut and an extremely upright appearance.

Dio narrowed his eyes, becoming secretly wary.

Trouble, a huge problem, that's how Dior described Gordon.

Alfred, who was walking in front, introduced the two people who were meeting for the first time.

"Young Master Dior, this is Jim Gordon, the detective in charge of the case of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas."

"Detective Gordon, this is Master Dio, the adopted son of Master Thomas."

Dior flashed a perfect smile, stepped forward, and extended his hand:

"Hello, Detective Gordon."

"Hello there."

Gordon took his hand, but frowned.

Dior also felt the discomfort, and after a brief handshake, the two quickly let go of each other's hands.

"Bruce, I've come to see you."

Detective Gordon quickly put aside his brief discomfort and got straight to the point.

He came to Wayne Manor today for one thing: to tell Bruce that the killer of the Wayne couple was someone else.

"In short, Mario Pepper didn't kill your parents. He was framed. The police and the gang framed him together."

Gordon's face was filled with remorse.

Bruce sat quietly without saying a word, but his hands, resting on his lap, clenched tightly.

Is this paranoia starting to flare up again? Is he beginning to doubt Gordon?

Dio, of course, noticed the subtle movement and Gordon's guilty expression, and said:

"Who did that, Detective Gordon?"

"I don't know." Gordon shook his head, his guilt even more pronounced. "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

Upon hearing this, Dior, like a shark smelling blood, precisely bit at the exposed weakness of its prey:

"If that's the case..."

A flawless smile spread across the blond boy's face, and as if he had suddenly realized something, he said softly:

"You killed an innocent person, closed the case, and then came back saying you killed the wrong person, right?"

Gordon's expression was full of struggle. He opened his mouth, met Bruce's disappointed gaze, and said with difficulty:

"...Yes, I'm sorry."

"No need, Detective Gordon."

Bruce's voice was calm, yet carried a suppressed tremor; it was low and deep.

"I'm so glad he's still alive, really."

Upon hearing this, Gordon was stunned, and Alfred was also stunned.

Only Dior, who had a clear understanding of the situation, showed an expression of "I knew it."

Gordon took a deep breath, looked earnestly at Bruce, and pleaded:

"Give me a chance, and I will find out who killed your parents."

"I will clean up the scum in the police department, but I have to infiltrate the ranks."

"So I beg you, Bruce, you must not tell anyone what I'm telling you."

"That's a good excuse, Detective Gordon."

Bruce looked up, his dark eyes filled with rejection.

"Alfred, see the guest out."

Alfred opened his mouth, met Gordon's forlorn gaze, and finally raised his hand:

"Let's go, Detective Gordon."

The study door closed.

Suppressing his anger, Bruce suddenly turned to Dio:

"Why did you do this, Dior!"

"ha."

Seeing Bruce's agitated state, Dior laughed, his eyes filled with mischievous amusement.

"Bruce, I am easily built, yet as solid as a rock; but a single word can cause me to crumble instantly. So what am I?"

Upon hearing this, Bruce remained silent for a moment before calmly replying:

"It's trust."

"You got it right."

Dio clapped his hands in satisfaction, leaned down, and whispered seductively at Bruce:

"Don't you know that the least trustworthy people in Gotham are the police?"

"Yes, I understand, so..."

Bruce's face darkened, and he grabbed Dio's arm, staring at him with an unyielding gaze:

"You've said so much because you want to help me, right?"

"Of course."

Dior finally revealed a genuine smile, a hint of arrogance curving his lips.

"After all, we're family."

"Bruce".

I will help you.

By the way, have you block my way so I can find the lady who's in contact!

I will clear the way ahead and focus on taking away your family business!

Therefore, I will use everything I can!

Dior swallowed the rest of his words and looked at the panel in front of him.

[You have gained Bruce Wayne's basic trust, successfully taking a step towards becoming a superhero. Exclusive points +100]

[You have successfully destroyed the trust between Jim Gordon and Bruce Wayne with your wicked wisdom. +100 exclusive points]

[Triggering a Long-Term Mission: The Shadow of Crime Alley]

[Current points: 200, can be accumulated to 1000 points to improve existing abilities]

[Currently available upgradeable abilities: Stand - Sexy Pistol, Riddler's Insight]

...Well, there's not much point in drawing two roulette wheels, and you might not even get the ability. It's better to save up and do a 10-pull or upgrade your ability.

Dio stroked his chin, deep in thought.