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

"A few months ago, my life lost its meaning."

Bruce leaned forward, his fingers interlaced, his eyes heavy.

"I need to know what to do. Bringing you here will put you in danger, but I can't wait any longer."

"So, now you've brought me out."

Karen remained expressionless; she understood Bruce's unspoken message.

"Are you trying to use me as bait to avenge your parents?"

Bruce looked up, his dark eyes unwavering.

"I need you to help me find the truth. If you refuse, I'll send you back now, but how long can you hide after that?"

Karen clenched her fists, then relaxed them, and frankly stated:

"Then you might die."

"I know," Bruce nodded heavily.

He knew perfectly well that if he could find out about Karen, so could others.

"Young Master Bruce, once a decision is made, there's no going back."

Alfred noticed his struggle and offered words of comfort.

"It seems so."

Bruce breathed a sigh of relief, his complexion finally looking better.

To prevent Karen from being found by others, he had no choice but to bring her back.

It seems the situation isn't too bad now.

"Aren't you afraid at all?"

Karen frowned. She had intended to scare the child away, but she hadn't expected him to be completely unafraid.

Why?

Because once you've met someone who can't die, you'll realize there's nothing strange about this world.

Alfred had intended to say that, but then changed the subject:

"Let's wait until Master Dior returns before we talk about it."

"Dio? Thomas never said he had any other children."

"Miss Jennings, Master Dior is the adopted son of Master Thomas."

"Adopted son?"

Karen was a little confused, but wisely didn't press the matter.

"All right."

"By the way, don't talk to Dior first later, or he'll hate you."

Bruce seemed to remember something and kindly added:

"He particularly dislikes obsequious people. If you take the initiative to speak up, he will think you are trying to please him."

Are there really such strange people?

Karen's eyes widened slightly, and she nodded.

Soon after, Dio returned to Wayne Manor.

After stopping the car, he dialed Peter's number.

"Feed? Boss?"

"How's Jerome?"

"Still laughing," Peter said in a low voice. "He's been laughing since he got on the bus, and his voice is hoarse."

"Okay, since he likes to laugh so much, let's give him a chance."

Dior spoke into the phone, giving the order:

"Put him in a sack, throw him into the Gotham River, and if he's lucky enough to survive, then let him go."

Upon hearing this, Peter paused, hesitated for a moment, and then agreed.

"understood."

"That's settled then."

Dior hung up the phone.

He needs to find some books about the Order of St. Dumas.

The Galerwin family was associated with the Order of St. Dumas and was also his rival.

However, this task is relatively simple, so there's no need to rush.

And judging by the timeline, Bruce should have already brought Karen Jennings back.

Take it one step at a time; there's still plenty of time.

Furthermore, figuring out why the Owl Court reopened Indian Hill is also a card to play against them.

Dior lowered his helmet and walked toward the manor gate.

The door opened, and Alfred walked towards him:

"Young Master Dior, you're back."

Dior nodded slightly and continued walking straight into the living room without stopping.

He was met with Bruce's somber expression and a woman in a hoodie with a cold demeanor.

But his gaze didn't fall on her face; instead, it fell on the hand resting on her knee.

To be precise, it was on that paw.

paw?

That's disgusting.

A barely perceptible look of disgust flashed in Dior's eyes, but he quickly looked away as if nothing had happened.

Karen was actually watching him too.

She noticed the blond boy the moment he walked in.

Although he wore a flawless smile, there was something in his eyes—something she had seen in the eyes of philosophers.

That was ambition, a raging ambition.

Karen frowned instinctively, her voice turning cold:

"You have ambition in your eyes, just like those madmen I've met."

Dior's smile remained unchanged, but his eyes flashed with a sinister light for a moment. He said without changing his expression:

"So what happened to all those crazy people you've met?"

"They're all dead."

"Then they must have lived a very interesting life before they died."

He extended his right hand and introduced himself:

"I am Dio Brando."

Looking at the polite blond boy in front of her and his outstretched hand, Karen's brows unconsciously relaxed.

Did I misjudge him?

She hesitated for a moment, but still used her normal hand to hold it.

"Hello there."

The two parted ways immediately and quickly got down to business.

Karen then began to tell her story.

She was born with a disability and was imprisoned in Blackgate Prison for committing a crime. She had no choice but to either die or take a gamble, which is why she joined Pine Forest Farm.

"Black Gate Prison? How wonderful."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, poured Karen another cup of tea, and joked:

"You're not a prison guard there, are you?"

"That's because my father was an alcoholic and abusive, until one day I fought back, and so... I got caught."

When the topic came up, Karen remained calm, simply shrugging as if it didn't matter.

Upon hearing this, Dior quietly clenched his fist.

Because it's exactly like his family background.

But in Gotham, there are still plenty of people without parents, and they are considered lucky.

Damn it.

Bruce sensed the tense atmosphere emanating from Dior and quickly steered the conversation back on track:

"Let's talk about Pine Forest Farm instead."

"it is good."

Karen nodded, a flicker of pain crossing her eyes as she recalled her experience in the lab ten years ago.

"They liked to use disabled children and corpses for experiments, and the person in charge often muttered one phrase..."

Her expression was conflicted; she took several deep breaths before finally speaking.

"He said that Gotham's electricity was different, a rare miracle. I can still remember the smell of those burnt corpses, my God."

"A miracle? A burnt smell?"

Dior repeated the two words, his handsome brows furrowing.

He tapped his fingers lightly twice on his knee.

He knew that the water in Gotham was not normal water at all.

But why isn't Gotham's electricity normal anymore?

Dio seemed to vaguely understand why the Court of Owls wanted to take away the technology for electrocution.

At that moment, the three keywords—electricity, corpse, and miracle—instantly reminded him of a story.

Frankenstein.

At this moment, the scattered chain of evidence was perfectly connected.

Electric shocks, corpses, miracles—the Court of Owls isn't creating monsters, it's replicating them.

Using DNA implantation technology to repair damaged bodies, using electric current to awaken dormant neurons in electrocuted individuals, turning the dead into young, living people.

Dior recalled the weak voice of the contact woman on the phone.

He had always thought it was an illness, but now he realizes it wasn't an illness, but aging.

An old woman, nearing the end of her life, hides behind a voice changer, desperately trying to hold onto the passing time.

How ridiculous.

Dior's lips curled up uncontrollably.

He bit his lip, his nails digging into his palms, desperately suppressing the slight smile.

I can't laugh, at least not now.

You have to hold back for at least thirty seconds!

Hahaha!

He used to think that time was not on his side.

After all, he's only twelve years old, while the other side has been operating for over a hundred years. How can he possibly compete?

But at this moment, Dio finally understood that time had never been on their side.

Those mole rats are the ones who can't wait.

They are the ones who should be worried.

The advantage lies with me!

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

At this time, Dior was unaware that something had also happened at the flea market.

Meanwhile, flea markets.

"Are you Peter Parker?"

"It's me, what's wrong, officer?"

The two criminal investigation officers exchanged a glance and pulled out a pair of silver bracelets from behind their waists.

"You're under arrest! The charge is suspected theft!"