Chapter 144: A Hero's Burden

So, what does it feel like when a seemingly defenseless beauty is lying on your sofa, gazing at you with hazy, alluring eyes?

John's reply was simple. "The cost of the door lock will be deducted from your salary."

Natasha's sultry expression vanished.

After witnessing Tony's multi-billion-dollar fireworks show, John was struck by two thoughts. First, he was far too frugal. Second, he was still a very long way from being truly wealthy. After all, he'd had to resort to alchemy to afford his last purchase of vibranium, while Tony had just blown up dozens of armored suits without blinking an eye. Considering Tony would also have to rebuild his villa, John was deeply moved by his own simple, thrifty spirit.

There's no boss who doesn't exploit their employees; it's simply a matter of ambition.

Although Natasha was a master spy, encountering such a relentlessly practical boss, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Her charming, seductive posture dissolved as she sat up.

"Don't tell me you have to work on Christmas too."

John took off his coat and set it aside; the garment floated to the coat rack and hung itself neatly. He assumed Natasha was here on S.H.I.E.L.D. business.

Natasha, however, decided to test her charm one last time. She puffed out her proud figure, her voice taking on an ambiguous tone. "Can't I just come to reminisce with you?"

"Reminisce?" John looked genuinely surprised. "Let's not deceive ourselves, Natasha."

He was a brutally clear-headed person.

"Okay," Natasha gave up. She suddenly felt that Tony, for all his bluster, was easier to deal with. "Fine. Just a small matter. What's the situation with Silver Hand Fashion Architecture?"

"It is what it looks like," John walked over and shrugged. "A group of friendly wizards saw the damage done to beautiful New York and came out to help with repairs."

"Wow," Natasha said, her voice completely devoid of sincerity.

If she hadn't known that the city government's reconstruction funds were flowing directly into Silver Hand's pockets, she might have actually believed him. She couldn't help but recall the assessments S.H.I.E.L.D.'s profilers had made of John. He was, in many ways, very similar to Tony.

The difference was, he possessed less empathy than Tony, and far more rationality and indifference.

To describe him with a code name, it would be... The Observer.

Tony Stark, in the first half of his life, was a billionaire, a super-genius from MIT, and a playboy. After seeing weapons made by Stark Industries in the hands of terrorists, he whimsically announced the closure of the weapons division. The largest arms company in America suddenly transformed, with its leader becoming Iron Man, a man working for the welfare of the people and creating clean energy.

Whimsical. Tony was like a child who had suddenly seen the truth of the world. Before that, he was a chick wrapped in an ivory eggshell, accepting only its beauty. He became a Superhero entirely because of his kindness and sense of responsibility. Despite S.H.I.E.L.D.'s initial, less-than-glowing assessment of him, they all knew that such a person was often the most suitable for a hero organization.

John was different.

So different that Fury still refused to consider him for the Avengers Initiative, even though the man had single-handedly decided the outcome of the New York War. Fury saw him more as a competitor, or rather, a key person requiring S.H.I.E.L.D.'s constant, responsible attention.

His capriciousness was, at its core, a direct disregard for the life-and-death crises of others. The identity of this wizard, his status a mystery, had completely defeated an alien god. It was undeniable that John protected New York, but his protection always felt like he was pushing others to do the actual protecting. The appearance of the Steel Soldiers, for example, had coincided perfectly with the start of the New York War. After the war, Silver Hand Fashion Architecture was launched. The dilapidated city was restored in less than a year, collecting a massive amount of money from the city government.

All his help needed to be paid for.

Even S.H.I.E.L.D. had been forced to spend a large sum of money just to wake up Steve Rogers. This man brought the essence of a businessman to its absolute extreme. Calmly considering every action, viewing the world from an observer's perspective.

Fury was investigating John—or more accurately, his identity. After hitting a wall at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, he realized John's status in the Magic World was a complete mystery. What was his position in that secretive Magical Country, and what allowed Silver Hand Fashion Architecture to follow his orders? All of this was the purpose of Fury's investigation.

Thoughts flashed through her mind. Natasha refocused on John. "Some people have filmed wizards repairing buildings. Don't you have a Statute of Secrecy?"

Wizards would usually use Memory Charms to erase the memories of all witnesses to conceal their tracks. But with the development of the times, while Memory Charms could erase memories, street cameras and increasingly clear satellites made it impossible to completely destroy these secrets.

Hearing Natasha's question, John smiled. He looked at her and asked, "How much longer do you think?"

"What?" Natasha didn't understand.

But John's next sentence sent a chill down her spine.

"When will the people being protected turn their weapons on their heroes?"

This was an unavoidable problem. Blaming losses on the destroyers is an inescapable part of human nature. Whether it's superheroes or terrorist attacks, they all cause destruction.

The difference is, superheroes cause it through protection. Terrorists cause it through attacking and destroying. But the losses are real; it's just a matter of scale.

The protection by superheroes merely reduces a crisis that would have otherwise expanded. This can protect many people, but the group directly affected will not always be grateful.

A bomb exploding on the ground floor will cause the collapse of the entire building and the death of over a thousand people. If a bomb explodes on an upper floor, the people on that floor will be injured, resulting in dozens of deaths. The public will not know how great a disaster you prevented or that ninety percent of the people in that building survived because of your appearance.

They will only feel that the Superhero did not protect them well and caused this tragedy.

Smart people are always in the minority.

Those affected by the explosion on the upper floor will resent the hero, their relatives and friends will blame them, and the public will be enraged by the damage and losses. Even if no one dies, when a Superhero casually picks up a car that someone bought on a thirty-six-month installment plan and throws it at a villain, the owner of that car will not be grateful.

He will only be devastated, only angry, spreading bad words about the hero.

A hero and a terrorist both wreak havoc. The latter doesn't need to bear the consequences; they are criminals to begin with. The former, however, will be criticized, investigated, and then forced to publicly apologize.

The weapon of the weak has never been strength; it is the criticism of the strong from the perceived high ground of the weak.

"Why do they do this?" Natasha asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Because heroes are not villains," John smiled. "Heroes need to compensate. Villains... are already bad."

"Right now, it's only a small portion who complain; they feel uneasy because they still need superheroes."

"Once they get used to it, they will change from the protected to the critics, telling you afterward what could have been done and what shouldn't have been done."

"But it all comes back to one meaning," John stared at Natasha, saying meaningfully, "You did something wrong."

Natasha's face paled slightly. She stared at John; this intelligent woman clearly understood what he meant. Being given the title of 'Superheero' means stepping outside the realm of ordinary people. Everyone yearns for a perfect saint; they are even more eager to create one.

But even Steve Rogers, the spiritual symbol of America, will not be perfect.

Natasha composed herself and asked, "So you let Silver Hand Fashion Architecture start appearing?"

"The repair capabilities of wizards are exactly what the Superhero era needs," John didn't deny it. He nodded and said calmly, "For the losses incurred by residents when superheroes are preventing villains."

"Wizards can solve this problem very well."

He curled the corners of his mouth, lazy and relaxed. "Of course, these services need to be paid for."

"Stark acts as the backup and financial support for the Avengers," John sat on the single sofa, resting his right hand on his cheek, and smiled playfully. "It's strange. S.H.I.E.L.D. says they protect the world."

"The organization behind S.H.I.E.L.D. openly consumes Stark's kindness and wisdom." He shook his head, the smile on his lips like a sneer.

Natasha processed this information. She didn't even need to ask Fury for instructions; she understood that what John said was correct, and S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't refuse. Manhattan was just one example. The Avengers would inevitably damage buildings or other property in the future. Wizards being able to repair and restore them was the best logistical support imaginable.

Natasha exhaled heavily, making her impressive figure seem like it was about to burst the buttons of her white shirt.

"You really are hard to figure out. Did you read my mind just now?" Natasha hadn't said anything, yet John had articulated precisely what she wanted to know.

John chuckled at the question, his reddish-brown eyes gazing deeply into Natasha's, and said, "I don't use Legilimency on friends, Natasha."

In that instant, Natasha suddenly understood why Fury was so wary of John. A King of Agents was destined never to treat people with genuine sincerity; even the closest allies would be met with three parts suspicion.

But John wouldn't.

He had the ability to read minds but never used it on his own people.

He was tolerant, tolerant of those who might harbor not-so-bright thoughts while staying by his side.

Those ambitions, those selfish desires.

He respected them. He simply, purely trusted.

He could have people around him who weren't selfless saints.

He was, in his own way, very selfish.

(End of Chapter)

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