Chapter 5, Episode 05: I'm a very timid person.
Episode 05 I'm a very timid person
Because I need to go to Lloyds Bank again, and it's right before the bank closes for the day.
I asked my new colleague, Jenny Agnes, to make a phone call to their bank manager, Rich Tucker.
They don't have business hours at night, and there's no stipulation in the contract about overtime or night shifts, so logically, my unreasonable request should be rejected.
And just as I suspected, my idea of storing gold at night was rejected.
The radiant secretary, Miss Jenny, used a gentle voice that didn't suit her image to mimic Manager Richie's polite refusal and express her hope that I could go to the bank earlier the next day.
I want to express that I am very angry.
So while playing a mobile game, I said, "I'm very angry."
London: "Perhaps your anger could be a little more convincing."
Jenny Agnes clearly saw that I was just saying it casually.
However, given that I had already verbally expressed my anger, she still coaxed me, "Or do you have any other preferred times that I can help you book in advance?"
Without looking up, I asked, "What time is it now?"
Because the mini-game I was playing had a time limit, I felt that even looking up was a waste of time.
"4:34 PM".
I thought for a moment and said, "Then we can go home for dinner after get off work, right?"
London: "..."
It tried to hold back, but still spoke up: "You've already had a two-hour nap and ate two big slices of fig Napoleon cake."
Feeling indignant, I asked, "Jenny, can I go home now?"
Jenny said, "Yes, you can leave work anytime you want."
Me: "Look."
London: "Milverton is not that kind of idle spendthrift."
Me: "I'm not Milverton."
London: "..."
I see…"
I picked up my coat as if it were the most natural thing in the world and walked towards the door.
But as I brushed past Jenny, I paused, my gaze not lingering on her, but fixed ahead, and spoke in an unapproachable tone.
"Next time, please read the document carefully before giving it to me. I don't want to spend time reading even garbage."
Jenny's relaxed expression stiffened at my sudden remark, and she replied respectfully, "Yes, Mr. Milverton."
Me: "Are you satisfied now? I've lost a friend because of you."
London: "..."
London's electronic voice remained flat, as if the silence had continued without pause, "I'm talking about how casual you are in your work and your attitude."
Just as I was about to refute, a sudden inspiration struck me.
I realized something—London is a J person, and I am a P person.
"Have you ever taken an MBTI test?" I asked with great interest.
"The MBTI is nothing but pseudoscience; its validity and reliability are unreliable, and its dimensions are incomplete. What's the point of testing it?"
I laughed and said, "Then we'll have another topic to talk about."
"All you need to do is study how to become Milverton," London coldly refused.
I said, "But through these daily interactions, the more you trust me, the more I rely on you, and the closer our cooperation becomes. In the future, it's more likely that I'll obey your every word. What downsides would that be for you?"
London, unmoved by reason, only those with a clear understanding of everything said, "Do you think I would believe such a lie?"
I thought to myself, "As expected, it's not easy to be manipulated by PUA."
*
Once I arrived at the parking lot, I climbed into Milford Town’s custom-made Lexus van, worth £1.4 million.
Milford Town has so many luxury cars.
I was thinking to myself.
The driver in a Lexus is on call 24/7.
So, when I transmigrated, my predecessor was involved in a car accident with a limousine tanker truck. After failing to survive the emergency at the hospital, I took her place. The driver in charge of the car quit his job because of the terrifying experience, and now they've replaced him with a 1.98-meter-tall veteran driver named McKay.
What's unusual is that his right hand is a prosthetic.
Although he was wearing gloves, I could see a metallic sheen in the gap between the gloves and the cuffs.
The only explanation for this situation is that either he is Iron Man, or he has a prosthetic limb.
Before he could ask a question, I said, "Don't you ever use your phone?"
The reason is that I saw him sitting upright in the driver's seat from a distance, without relaxing.
“I don’t use my phone during work hours,” McKay explained.
I casually asked, "So, did you work as a security guard before, or were you in the army?"
Being able to spend an entire day doing nothing but waiting in the car for orders, boredom and monotony will first and foremost torment one's will.
McKay paused for a moment, hesitated, and then told him the details: "I served in the army and participated in wars."
"Did you encounter anything interesting during the war?"
McKay looked displeased. "War is not interesting."
"That's not interesting, so why participate? Some people like to use fame to commit murder and arson, some like to serve their country, and some like to achieve upward social mobility through military merit. Which type of person are you?"
As soon as I finished speaking, London said, "If you continue, he'll shoot you in the head."
That lasted only a second. I immediately said to McKay, "McKay, take me to Lloyd's Bank on Marie-Leben Road."
McKay seemed surprised that my topic changed so quickly; he just instinctively gripped the steering wheel, and then the car engine started.
I fastened my seatbelt and continued playing on my phone.
Some levels require watching ads to unlock, and I had no choice but to watch a 30-second ad.
Fortunately, the games in those ads had interactive elements, allowing me to play a level for free, so time passed relatively quickly.
The journey was completely silent.
London was the first to break the silence.
It asked, "Who were you before?"
I was engrossed in looking at the ads on my phone and casually replied, "What?"
"You can identify whether someone's gun is self-loading, and you can tell at a glance what their previous profession was. This is not an ordinary person's ability."
When I think back to the past, all I can recall are the days I spent barely clinging to life in a hospital bed.
So I blurted out, "In my past life, I was pampered and lived the life of a young master. I wouldn't eat unless someone fed me; I wouldn't wake up unless someone called me. I was originally lazy and didn't know anything about farming, but I've suffered a lot since coming here. I even have to bathe myself."
London: "..."
London and I chatted idly, making small talk.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a car speeding straight past the Lloyds Bank on Marie Leben Road.
I turned around and saw the bank sign rapidly shrinking behind the car. My alarm bells rang, but I tried to keep my voice calm: "Sir, you've passed by the bank."
Kidnapping?
Me: "If this is a kidnapping, I will never go out again."
London: "I have good news for you, it's not a kidnapping."
That would be even worse.
Kidnapping might result in financial loss at most, but everything else could be fatal.
I was wondering if this person in front of me was some kind of assassin sent from somewhere, planning to take me to some remote corner and get rid of me on the spot.
At this moment, McKay, in the driver's seat, calmly responded to my words, "Mr. Milwalton, your brake lines have been cut."
I:"……"
That would be the worst possible outcome.
I quickly gave the order: "Find a Volvo or a Land Rover and ram it."
The bodies of those models are all sturdy enough.
McKay is also trying to find a less extreme solution: "I think we might be able to wait until we run out of fuel and then pull over."
"Is a human life more important, or this car?"
Given my bad luck, I don't think I'll be able to safely run out of gas and stop the car.
Before he could finish speaking, a white Land Rover appeared in front of them.
"Hit it!"
I made a decision immediately.
In fact, the Lexus couldn't stop at all, and there was a red light ahead.
Unsurprisingly, accompanied by a screeching sound and a loud "bang!", the two cars collided.
We were jolted forward by inertia, the front of the car deformed instantly, and thick, gray-black smoke billowed out.
A pungent, acrid smell seeped into the car through the glass.
I froze for two seconds, my ears still ringing.
The surrounding vehicles slowed down and carefully drove around us, trying to avoid the disaster that had just ended.
Once I confirmed that the car had finally come to a complete stop, I quickly pushed open the car door and got out. As soon as my foot touched the ground, I felt a little lightheaded.
However, before I could even feel relieved that I had lost money and avoided further trouble, the front car door was suddenly pushed open. The impact had sent the other car lurching onto the sidewalk and crashing into a roadside tree.
The front of the Land Rover was also damaged, with a large dent.
The driver of the car in front calmly opened the door and got out, showing no sign of panic.
His gaze lingered on me for half a second before sweeping over my car, which was still smoking.
"Mr. Milverton, I didn't know you had a penchant for rear-ending others?"
The speaker was Albert James, a passerby who had been waiting for a long time that morning and had left first.
At this moment, if he hadn't spoken, his impeccably tailored suit and gentle demeanor would have made him appear exceptionally elegant. However, paired with that statement, it took on a particularly ironic tone.
Seeing that it was an acquaintance, I skipped the formalities and said, "If I say yes, do I not need to pay compensation?"
Albert: What do you think?
That's not interesting.
I immediately pointed at the driver, McKay, and said, "This pedestrian is asking you for compensation. Go with him through the proper procedures. I'll cover the cost for you." With that, I turned to leave, not wanting to deal with this mess at all.
But before I could take two steps, a large hand grabbed my shoulder tightly.
That force rendered me completely immobile.
“Mr. Milverton, we’ll settle the car later,” Albert said firmly. “You left something with me. Don’t leave yet.”
It was only then that I remembered Jenny had indeed said that this person had come to return something to me.
At the time, I didn't feel like I was missing anything, and I thought it was just a lame excuse for them to meet me, so I didn't take it to heart at all.
After hearing what he said, I obediently waited to the side like a student waiting for a teacher to give out small gifts.
A moment later, Albert pressed a strangely familiar black object onto my hand.
The cold touch of the metal went straight to my skin, and before I could even get used to it, Albert released my hand, and my hand suddenly felt heavy.
I examined the black object and asked, "...Hmm, what is this?"
"A device combining a highly destructive chemical substance with a plastic adhesive. Once activated, it can produce a large amount of neutron radiation on living organisms, killing them in a very short time."
He paused, his gaze sharp as he stared intently at my expression, and said, "Yes, just as you guessed, this is the bomb."
Upon hearing this, I immediately flicked my wrist, changing from holding it with both hands to grabbing it with one hand, and casually weighed it in my hand: "So, if I threw this at you now, would you get blown up?"
Albert's expression changed drastically.
I added softly, my tone both chilling and playful, "I'm very timid, don't scare me."
London: "..."
Albert: "..."
The deathly silence lasted for quite a while.
Albert seemed to remember his own voice then, and said seriously, "Mr. Milverton, I need to talk to you. If you value your life—"
I feel like I've almost died several times over this whole trip...
I was just thinking about it when I noticed that London stopped talking after Albert appeared.
My heart skipped a beat.
"London, is your real name Albert? The way you two talk sounds similar!"
London's electronic voice unusually produced a very unstable electrical noise, and finally, as if suppressing emotions, it forced out a sentence.
"No, you can shut up now."
A note from the author:
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