Chapter 9: He is, a Legend

"Is Michael drawing another picture?" Victoria asked as she shoved another biscuit into her mouth.

In Mummy's eyes, Michael always liked doing these things, making two identical paintings that seemed to have no difference.

And later on, these paintings would mysteriously disappear.

Victoria was a simple-minded person in some ways.

She could neither imagine that the stolen painting in the news was Michael's "first painting". Nor could she conceive that the recovered painting in the news was Michael's "second drawing".

Michael has been doing this for two years now.

Every time he got hold of an original painting, he would forge a replica that was difficult to distinguish from the original. Then, he would return the counterfeit to the museum and sell the original to a new owner.

But in Mummy's eyes, her darling was merely displaying a slight aptitude for drawing.

This drawing talent was just a tiny bit better than her own talent for drawing chickens pecking at rice!

Victoria thought as she bit into her biscuit. After chewing the first bite, she made a humming sound, her mouth covered as she spat out the whole biscuit.

"Darn!" Before Michael could express any concern for her, she exclaimed in shock, "The biscuits are burnt again!"

Having said that, she snatched the remaining biscuit from Michael's hand, took the plate, and ran off like the wind.

"Dodo, did you eat the biscuit! The biscuits are burnt!" She shouted all the way.

"Mummy —— I like eating burnt ones ——" Dodo replied while dodging attacks from Punch King in the combat room.

Dodo, my first darling, is indeed the most caring girl baby. As long as it's food made by Mummy, even if it's burnt, she loves it.

Michael, my second darling, is indeed the smartest boy baby. He didn't even say a word, yet Mummy discovered that the biscuit was burnt.

My babies and I are all geniuses!

Thought the proud Victoria.

As to where the babies came from... Sorry, I haven't thought about it and have no time to think about it.

In any case, they mysteriously appeared in this world, mysteriously knew how to call me 'Mummy', mysteriously learned to do housework, and mysteriously lived with me for six years.

Victoria absolutely loved this mysterious life, raising her arms and cheering —— let the whole world continue in such a mysterious way!

...

Paris, Charles de Gaulle Airport.

A man of majestic bearing was walking through the airport's special passage.

He was tall and extraordinary in temperament. His large sunglasses shielded his eyes, but could not hide his perfect facial features, his high nose and his persistent lips.

With every step he took, his long legs strode firm steps, as the echo of crisp footsteps sounded throughout the hallway.

This sound was like the gunfire of justice, seeming to shatter any evil or pretense in the world.

The officer in charge of the Louvre theft case in Paris has already gone to greet him.

"Mr. Clegg, welcome."

The officer smiled warmly, "This case is troubling, thank you for coming to help us."

Hank Clegg, the youngest and most handsome team captain in the history of Interpol.

The most widely circulated miracle about him is not his stunning looks, nor how young he was when he attained this respected position.

But that at the age of just fifteen, he successfully completed the internationally acclaimed toughest G13 level Secret Agent Training.

That same year, he undertook a mission, snuck into the most notorious terrorist organization, captured the leader of the organization, and handed him over to the International Court.

The next year, he cracked the largest smuggling and drug trafficking gang internationally, gathered solid evidence, and brought down a powerful politician.

Additionally, during a plane hijacking incident, he successfully intercepted the aircraft, saving all the crew members and passengers.

...

He was the most admirable lone hero and a wise and thoughtful leader.

He was also the deity that evoked terror and made all evil retreat.

He was a legend.

However, what broke many women's hearts while simultaneously filled them with anticipation was that such a marvellously gallant man kept a distance from women.

According to Hank Clegg's own female subordinates, that is to say, there isn't a female creature in the world capable of making this iron-hearted man willing to spend the night with them.

As for what woman would have the honor to obtain his genetic code, to bear his child?

My oh my!

Perhaps, only an alien woman?

The theft at the Louvre Museum has been a headache for the Paris Police for a full two years now.

The responsible police officers have been changed several times, yet they are still unable to determine how the thieves stole the painting successfully.

The security technologies have been upgraded, again and again, but the painting would still go missing when it was supposed to.

What angered the police was that after not too long, the painting would return back to its original place in perfect condition.

They had experts authenticate it, and the results were always authentic.

The police were baffled and couldn't figure out who would steal a painting just to return it.

Did the thief just want to admire the famous painting up close?

Or did he enjoy the process of quietly stealing and then returning the painting?

Or did he just like toying with the police?

If it wasn't for the recurrence of such events causing immense public outrage and immense pressure on the law enforcement, they wouldn't have sought help from Interpol.

After all, seeking help represented their incompetence.

Although admittedly, to be less competent than Hank Clegg wasn't exactly something to be ashamed of.

The police respectfully invited Hank Clegg to the Police Department.

When the coffee was served, Hank Clegg took off his sunglasses. His elegance and his casual movements were akin to a sovereign wielding his scepter.

Seven years had gone by, his eyes were deeper and more handsome than before, but his gaze was even colder than before.

Even so, the policewoman holding the files nearby couldn't help but swallow and subconsciously stand straighter.

A man like Hank Clegg can make any woman in this world change themselves for him.

Whether they become more docile and cowardly, or more competitive and jealous.

But no matter how much they change, the only commonality is that they all end up falling for him…

The officer began to introduce Hank Clegg to the case and the information currently at hand.

He quietly sipped his coffee, his wrist steady and powerful as he held the cup. His lips barely open as he took each sip, yet his masculine aura subtly spread around making the policewoman next to him heartbeats accelerate.

Ultimately, he put down his coffee cup.

His eyes remained indifferent and calm throughout.

In perfect French, he asked, "Have you ever considered the possibility of a child perpetrator?"

"A child?" The Paris police were all taken aback and then burst out laughing.

How could it be a child?

The security level and the preparedness level of the Louvre Museum are so high that not even a mosquito could fly inside, let alone a child.

Was Hank Clegg kidding them?

Hank Clegg tilted his head slightly, unfazed by the incredulity of the Paris police, but it did not affect his judgment.

With a delicate accent, he slightly narrowed his eyes, "You've been investigating for two years, and you haven't even identified the prime suspect population?"

One of the Paris police officers began to feel enraged.

He raised the roll of paper in his hand and said loudly, "Mr. Clegg, are you questioning our anti-theft technology and our intelligence. Can you tell us how can a child steal the painting?"

Hank Clegg leaned forward and tilted his head in an attractive angle, "The ventilation ducts, children under ten, with normal development, can go through."

He waved his hand casually, "Every room with a famous painting has a proper ventilation system."

"Ha ha ha," the officer laughed loudly, shrugging to his companions, "Mr. Clegg is making a joke. He's saying a child under ten can crawl through the complex ventilation pipes of the Louvre Museum, and then what? Fly to steal the painting?"

The others also started to laugh.

But Hank did not laugh. He just looked coldly at the self-righteous officer.

"When I was six years old, I could have emptied the entire Louvre Museum. But I didn't do it, do you think it's because I couldn't?"

His voice rose, carrying a regality that scorned the world, causing the entire room temperature to freeze suddenly.