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

Wayne Manor, the secret study.

This place has completely changed now.

Besides the old computer Thomas left behind, there were several brand-new devices in the corner.

Several Gotham maps were pasted on the wall, covered with dense red markings, like a spider web.

Bruce sat in front of one of the computers, wearing headphones, listening intently to something.

An audio waveform and a constantly moving red dot were displayed on the screen beside me.

Suddenly, his brow furrowed, then slowly relaxed, then tightened again.

"Um?"

Bruce's expression shifted from serious to confused, then from confused to an inexplicable strangeness—as if he had heard something that could never happen.

Shortly after, Bruce took off his headphones, held them in his hand, and stared at the screen for two seconds.

"...Why did you suddenly start crying?"

"And who exactly is that 'guy who can't cover his ass'?"

He stared at the computer in front of him with a strange expression, sighing repeatedly.

You blond pretty boy, you can't even cover your butt, how dare you treat me like this!

What terrible lines!

"Ugh."

Bruce sighed deeply again, feeling that he should respect his foster brother's privacy and give him some personal space.

This is a freedom granted to the other party by national law, which I cannot infringe upon, even though I have already infringed upon it several times.

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

Shortly after, Claw stopped the car in the garage.

Before Dio could even give him any instructions, the guy eagerly darted into the freezer, as if he were hiding from something.

"Um?"

Dio watched the fleeing figure of the claws disappear into the distance, then rubbed his temples.

"It's strange, I still can't understand the thought process of a madman."

He looked down at his hands, then subconsciously touched his left eye.

My eyes don't hurt anymore, but there's still a trace of warmth in my eye socket, and I feel like something is moving around inside.

It's weird, but I seem to be able to get used to it.

Moreover, the saint's remains allowed him to see the demons hidden in Gotham City!

Those street prostitutes and thugs, those guys he thought were just ordinary people, actually harbored demons among them!

This discovery excited Dior—he hadn't realized there were so many Easter eggs in the city where he grew up.

This saint's left eye must be more than just that; it must have other functions.

He instinctively felt that some of his abilities had been enhanced, but now was not the time to verify it.

After this incident, Dior felt it necessary to put Latin on the agenda.

Firstly, since there are demons, we must learn exorcism rituals, and the most famous exorcism ritual in the world is the Catholic exorcism ritual.

Secondly, Latin is the official language of the Catholic Church, and for centuries, the Bible, Mass, and exorcism ceremonies have been conducted in Latin.

Of course, there is also the most important point—Constantine often used Latin to exorcise demons.

Dior believed that since the saint's remains had already revealed the truth, something much bigger was waiting for him.

Therefore, Latin must be learned, and it must be learned well.

Most importantly, the succubus I met today was really ugly!

A muscular giant with wings and a heart-shaped tail, he's so disgusting he could make you vomit.

Dior suppressed the urge to wash his eyes, pushed open the door, and strode into the living room.

He wanted to ask Alfred if he had anything to eat.

He felt he desperately needed something sweet to cheer himself up about his less-than-ideal mood that day.

But he found Bruce sitting on the sofa, looking at him with a strange expression.

Dio paused, instinctively touching his left eye, but then thought:

That's not right!

He clearly wiped away his tears before he came back!

Why is this evil little bat staring at me with such a strange look?

Was he also attracted by the remains of the saint?

Dio felt inexplicably guilty under the stare and subconsciously took a step back.

"Young Master Dior..."

Fortunately, Alfred came over at that moment and said that he had left dinner for Dio.

"snort!"

Dior snorted coldly, glared at Bruce, and walked towards the restaurant.

After watching the other person leave the living room, Bruce withdrew his strange gaze and continued reading the book in his hands.

But after watching for a while, I found that I couldn't concentrate on it no matter how I looked at it.

After all, he was just too curious.

What kind of person could make a scoundrel like Dio cry so bitterly?

It can't be that he misses his mother, can it?

Bruce chuckled at his own thought and shook his head.

Today he uncovered many clues: the exact location of Indian Hill, the group's corruption, and even clues about the murderer.

He had a premonition that he was not far from catching the murderer who killed his parents.

At that time....

Bruce's expression turned cold again at the thought of this.

He glanced in the direction of the restaurant and walked over without making a sound.

Inside the restaurant, Dior was eating a steak sandwich made by Alfred when he asked:

"Are there any books for learning Latin at Wayne Manor? And a Catholic Bible?"

"The Bible? Latin? Young Master Dior, why are you looking at these?"

"I'm curious," Dio said, pursing his lips.

"curious?"

This answer completely stumped Alfred.

It's worth noting that although he was born in Britain, a country with a strong Catholic atmosphere, he is actually a pragmatic person.

Simply put, it's like how Chinese people believe in whatever gods are effective.

Alfred was also a Catholic, but his faith was flexible, principled, and selective.

Why did Dior suddenly transform from someone who viewed God as bullshit into someone who wanted to read the Bible?

Could it be that you've encountered something confusing?

Oh~

The confusion of youth.

Alfred smiled knowingly.

As the butler, he felt obligated to guide Dio toward the path he wanted to take, rather than wasting time studying some damn Bible.

So Alfred carefully considered his words and gently advised:

"Young Master Dior, it's okay to believe in gods, but it's just a psychological comfort and doesn't really help in life."

"I think at your age, you should read books that will be useful in the future, rather than the Bible."

Dio immediately realized that Alfred had misunderstood.

He doesn't want to believe in God, since God doesn't give him money.

Besides, although there is indeed a God in this universe, there is also a demon.

So believing in God is somewhat useful, but it's also unlikely that believing in God will be useful.

Dio smiled and shook his head; he was probably the least respectful person to God in the world.

At this moment, Alfred was still saying:

"Although I believe in God, I don't really believe in Him, or to be precise, I don't believe in Him that much."

"When I was a child, I prayed to God to give me a bicycle, but He still hasn't given it to me."

"So from then on, I only pretended to believe it. Young Master Dior, do you know why?"

Upon hearing this, Dio looked at Alfred, whose face was full of worry, with a strange expression, and casually said:

"Then why don't you just steal a bicycle and then repent to God?"

"what?"

Alfred stood there, blinking, and began to doubt his ears.

What did he just say?

Steal a car, then repent to God?

"hiss!"

Alfred gasped.

Sure enough, after all these years in Gotham, he still hadn't adapted to the Gotham people's thought process.

"Alfred, don't listen to him. He's playing you."

Bruce emerged from the shadows speechlessly, looked at Dio with a wicked grin, and shook his head.

A simple-minded old housekeeper, a wicked foster brother—alas, this family would fall apart without him.

"Alright, let's get down to business."

Bruce pulled out a chair, sat opposite Dior, and said in a deep voice...

"I found the exact location of Indian Hill, evidence of corporate corruption, and clues about the Wayne killer."

"Where should we begin, Dior? I'd like to hear your opinion."

You want me to talk things out, right?

As expected, it's an evil little bat imp.

"snort."

Dior snorted coldly, mocking without any mercy:

"Are you sure we won't die in the sewers tomorrow?"