6

"Hi, Mr. Rick Smith. I'm Kate Beckett, a trainee patrol officer from the Third Precinct in New York. I hope I haven't disturbed your thoughts while you're analyzing the case. I'm a big fan of Sherlock Holmes. His unique perspective and passion for solving cases inspire me."

"Could you sign my book?"

The tall female police officer suddenly appeared in front of Rick, her movements slightly awkward as she approached.

Rick was uncertain how to handle the policewoman before him.

In his past life, Rick had known her.

She was the heroine of a popular American TV series who chose to become a police officer after her mother's murder, driven by an obsession with detective novels. Ten years later, according to the plot, she would meet the hero of the story. She would solve various unsolved cases and ultimately uncover the true murderer of her mother, a member of a political family. By the way, the hero was also a suspense detective novelist.

"This idiot expects me to help investigate a case over ten years in advance? What do I gain from this? According to the original plot, no superior in the entire New York Police Department assisted her in the past decade. Think it through; you're courting disaster!"

"Officer Beckett, I must object to your attempt to persuade Mr. Stark into buying tens of thousands of my novels at the dinner party. Achieving high rankings on the bestseller list is no honor for my work. Nevertheless, I appreciate your admiration for my work. Have a good day."

With a proud turn, our esteemed writer headed home. He was a planner, despite still being somewhat vulnerable. Even amidst unexpected situations, he refused to be drawn into trouble. The time traveler possessed his own sense of pride.

"Failed? Whoever can write Sherlock Holmes isn't a fool. Don't provoke him again. The Stark Group is unfathomable."

Officer Stacy returned to Beckett.

"Maybe. I was just testing the waters. Who knew Tony Stark would react so strongly? It seems Holmes can't be relied upon in the short term. I've heard there's a formidable individual in the medical examiner's office named Morgan or something. What do you think about me making friends with him?"

Kate regarded her superior with a relaxed expression.

"Don't trouble yourself any further. You're just a trainee patrol officer. A rookie. Got it?"

"If it hadn't been for that Roy Montgomery insisting on bringing you along... He spoke highly of you. Don't create problems for yourself. Understand?"

George turned and re-entered the crime scene, closing the conversation on a failed note.

A full day had passed since the Wisteria Lane Massacre. Rick returned home in the morning, shutting out visitors. He slept deeply, his mind empty—no dazzling golden light in his dreams, at least.

Upon waking, everything around Rick was pitch black. He felt disoriented, unsure how long he had slept, unsure of his location in those first few waking seconds.

After a thorough shower in the brand-new bathroom, Rick looked at his slender reflection in the mirror and vowed to strengthen himself as soon as possible. With this frail body, he lacked the strength to flee. Using the magic bestowed by the Asgardian Queen might leave him drained after a while.

Just moments before waking, Rick seemed to walk into the crime scene again. The body under the sheet in the corner of the living room appeared ready to stir at any moment, leaving him with a cold, trembling feeling that robbed him of restful sleep.

How fortunate he had been in his prior life, under the protection of the family.

One only appreciates things once they are lost. Rick urgently called Jones, his contact at the company, only to learn awkwardly that it was already dark outside—no one would be in the office at this hour. The matter of hiring a bodyguard would have to wait until tomorrow.

Alone in the study, Rick found himself with nothing to occupy his time. This was not the state suitable for a time traveler striving to progress, to plan for the future, and to strengthen himself. At this moment, he could not focus. He would not write the second book in the Sherlock Holmes detective series. He could not endure the torment of a criminal case. What was safe to write about in this dreadful Marvel universe?

Suddenly, a butterfly fluttered past the study window... In that moment, inspiration struck like a lightning bolt!

Well, well—hello, Peter Pan.

"All children grow up—except one..."

The story of Peter Pan was brief, yet it sufficed to craft a new book. It centered on a boy named Peter Pan who never wished to grow up.

He dwelt in Neverland, the realm of eternal childhood. Cherished by all, he was capricious and mischievous—and he could fly.

Behold—a splendid fairy tale. Even a serial killer might soften after reading such a tale. Our esteemed writer basked in his pride.

"I'm so clever," Rick mumbled as he toiled on the manuscript.

A week later, after a two-hour drive on his own...

Rick returned to the editor-in-chief's office at the Daily Bugle. On the brightly lit top floor, he and the editor-in-chief meticulously discussed the pertinent details concerning the inaugural serialization of his new book in the Daily Bugle.

Finally, he dialed the Stark Group's press office directly from his office. The call was promptly answered. After Director Jones grasped the manuscript's essence, he advised Rick to deliver the book's manuscript after it had been copied. He would oversee the book's publication.

Regarding the newspaper serialization, Jones granted Rick the freedom to decide.

See—this underscores the importance of possessing a professional team. There's no need to fret over publication matters, and serialization is settled to everyone's satisfaction. He simply pondered how Stark and Pepper would react upon discovering his new book was a fairy tale.

That evening, after finishing his work at the Daily Bugle, Rick drove to a small bar near Central Park in New York. The bar boasted an elegant décor, with upper-class nobility flitting in and out. The door's security guards proved quite courteous, reassuring Rick of no concern about being accosted.

Upon entering the bar, a waiter led him to a semi-open booth. Several familiar faces were already seated within. Foremost was Ms. Pepper Potts, the "renowned secretary" of the Stark Group. Seated to her left was a stout man of great strength, familiar to Rick from his previous life's plot lines.

The stout man conversed with Lloyd Jones, the Stark Group's press office director, whose awkward smirk Rick could discern.

To Ms. Pepper's right sat an elderly gentleman in a suit. His gray hair was meticulously coiffed, with dual mustaches gracing his visage. Engaged in conversation with George Stacy, the head of New York's Major Crimes Unit.

"Rick, you've arrived. Allow me to introduce you—this is Mr. Howard Stark. The actual proprietor of the Stark Group. Upon learning of tonight's event and you, he stopped by to visit us."

Ms. Pepper winked, energetically presenting Rick.

"A pleasure, Mr. Stark is a genuine heavyweight. This evening's event is indeed noteworthy."

Rick expressed without hesitation.

"Hello, Mr. Smith. I was just speaking with Officer Stacy about you. Your novel's excellent. The investigative concepts you describe are innovative and might even establish a paradigm. I read the entire story roughly yesterday, finding it genuinely captivating."

Howard Stark weighed in with seriousness.

Pepper kept giving Rick meaningful looks, signaling that old Stark's appearance tonight was no coincidence—the old man had come for him.

"Mr. Stark, you jest. I simply penned a tale."

"Incidentally, this is a new piece I recently completed. A fresh style, a novel story. Should you be interested, Mr. Stark, you might peruse it."

Uncertain of Pepper's meaningful glances, Rick opted to tread cautiously.

"Very well. I'm merely a trifle bored. Permit me to examine this new story's nature. You all may converse—Officer Stacy has a matter to discuss with you."

Old Stark accepted the manuscript, settling into a corner to peruse it.

Such an approach—vigorous and efficient.