North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws

A large pile of photographs sprinkled down like raindrops from above.

Dean grabbed one at random and found an image of a sky-blue test tube on it, then another of an inconspicuous gun barrel...

All the photographs seemed to feature some sort of potions, weapons modifications, or mechanical traps.

"I learn things very quickly. I'm proficient in pharmaceuticals, biology, mechanical modifications, explosives mixing, and network technology... Many of the things from the Source of Pain now are actually just my Father directly using my achievements. If you let me go, all these can be yours," explained Little Mike.

Dean looked surprised. "But as far as I know, without the proper conditions, it's hard to make progress on theory alone."

"Yes," nodded Little Mike. "But replication doesn't require research. What I'm talking about is replicating, not inventing or creating. These are two different concepts."

Dean nodded.

He had figured out that Little Mike was leading him on, deliberately showcasing his value.

And it was quite understandable.

Without assistance, this sickly child would likely starve to death.

Dean was initially just curious to make contact, but Little Mike had piqued his interest.

After some thought, Dean extended his hand. "Alright, I'm quite curious about what you mentioned. Let's get reacquainted. My name is Dean. I've just avenged your father, and what I said before was just a joke. I wanted to test your cognitive approach to emotions. Things become clearer when facing life and death."

Listen to that! Were those the words of a human being? Anyone else hearing that, even if they didn't dare retaliate, would have at least rolled their eyes and cursed inwardly.

But Little Mike's gaze at Dean brightened considerably.

He extended his thin palm and laid it on Dean's hand. "My name is Little Mike, Dean. Your intelligence is higher than any of my own kind that I know. I enjoy communicating with you."

"You know what 'liking' is?"

"I can't understand it, but my Father told me that 'liking' is something I'm willing to do. There aren't many things I'm willing to do. Communicating with a not-so-stupid peer is one of them. I've read in books and seen in movies that this is called a 'companion.' If you can keep up with my thinking, perhaps we can become companions. You should be able to tell that my perception of others' emotions relies entirely on interpreting words literally and observing micro-expressions. I judge these rigidly, which makes me easily deceived. Having an auxiliary companion would aid my survival!"

Good grief. Dean was completely bewildered again.

He had now fully grasped Little Mike's way of thinking.

Only two things mattered to Little Mike: first, things he wanted to do, and second, things that were beneficial to him.

To put it plainly, Little Mike was an animal unconstrained by emotions like joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness. He operated purely on basic instincts: doing what he wanted, seeking advantages, and avoiding harm, without any other distracting thoughts.

To put it more elegantly, he possessed what could be called a child's pure heart.

Overall, Little Mike had made a reasonably good first impression on him.

Because he was easy to deceive!

As long as one controlled their expressions and actions, then in Little Mike's eyes, whatever they said was the truth.

The key was that Little Mike's speech and actions followed an overly obvious logical pattern.

Even his disguised emotional expressions, which might mislead an ordinary person, were transparent to Dean.

It was simpler than observing a normal person.

For people he could handle, Dean was always patient and tolerant.

Facing a silent Dean, Little Mike took the initiative. "So, can we become companions?"

He needed someone to help him survive. Dean looked strong and healthy.

"Sorry, Little Mike. In my understanding, a 'companion' in that sense usually refers to someone of the opposite sex, and I only like women. However, I know an equally smart girl whom I could introduce to you someday."

"But I've seen on the news that same-sex relationships are legal now, and actually, I'm more in favor of this kind of relationship because..."

"Stop there!" Dean felt that if the conversation continued, he wouldn't be able to explain himself clearly. He changed the subject. "What do you plan to do next?"

Little Mike lowered his head. "I don't know.

"I originally thought that after my Father died, people from the Source of Pain would approach me.

"Because I know Ona has already been bribed by them.

"But you came instead, and you don't seem interested in the value I deliberately displayed.

"Other than the laboratory beneath the villa, I don't know what else I can offer to make you help me."

He was still trying to entice Dean into helping him. This was Little Mike's way of thinking—using enticement to secure interaction.

A normal person in this situation would have long since played the victim card, seeking sympathy and a hug, not trying to entice an adult.

A smile flickered in Dean's eyes. He had long been curious about the things Little Mike mentioned.

Poor kid. He might be smart, but one couldn't expect a child who'd never left his home and couldn't empathize to understand the art of playing hard to get.

"Alright, seeing how pitiable you are, I'll go with you to see this laboratory of yours. If there's anything suitable, I can help you sell it for money and then hire someone to take care of your daily needs."

Little Mike reached out his hand. "My laboratory is on the basement level. That distance is a challenge for me."

Dean picked him up and cradled him in his arms.

Little Mike's body was indeed very frail, probably weighing only thirty to forty pounds. He was like a large-headed doll, all skin and bones—not a very appealing sight.

Under Little Mike's guidance, Dean, holding him, made his way to the villa's basement level.