The Innocent Finale — Part 1

Marvel woke up early the next morning.

He put on his favorite Zhongshan suit, buttoned all the way up to the collar. Today wasn’t a day for casual clothes.

Today was a mission.

If he was going to follow PhD everywhere and uncover the secret behind his legendary success with women, he needed the perfect disguise.

Marvel rummaged through his messy room, tossing aside books, dirty socks, a broken electric fan, and a half-eaten sandwich he had forgotten about five days ago.

Then he found it: a pair of black pantyhose.

Marvel stared at it for a moment. He couldn’t remember where it had come from. Maybe he had stolen it. Maybe it was some forgotten souvenir from a strange night. He honestly had no idea.

Either way, he grabbed a pair of scissors and got to work.

First, he cut the pantyhose in half, separating the two legs. Then, with careful concentration and slightly shaky hands, he cut four small holes into one of them—two for his eyes, one for his mouth, and one for his nose.

He didn’t want to suffocate. Dying while spying on PhD would have been embarrassing.

Marvel pulled the pantyhose leg over his head. The black nylon stretched tightly across his face, making him look almost exactly like a bank robber.

The leftover fabric dangled behind his head like a long, limp tail, swaying whenever he moved.

Marvel stared at himself in the mirror for several seconds.

“…Not… not bad,” he muttered. “Stylish… practical… slightly disturbing… but not… not too much.”

Marvel headed downstairs and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

Almost immediately, he spotted a young man walking past and waved him over. “Hey… hey, bro. Can I ask you something real quick?”

The man slowed down and gave Marvel a strange look. “Uh… sure.”

Marvel leaned slightly closer. “Do… do you think I look too weird today? Like… is this outfit too much?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Weird? Nah. You’re fine.”

Marvel squinted at him. “Are… are you sure?”

The man nodded. “Trust me. I’ve seen way worse.”

The man started counting off examples. “I once saw an eighty-year-old grandpa wearing his old high school uniform and actually going to class like he still belonged there. And one night, I saw a guy walking home with no pants on at all, just letting his giant dong swing around.”

Marvel blinked. That was… somewhat convincing, but not quite enough.

Noticing his hesitation, the man pointed across the street. “See that guy over there?”

Marvel turned.

Across the road, a ripped, muscular man was strolling casually down the street wearing nothing but a pair of tiny pink triangle-cut women’s underwear.

No one around him even seemed to care.

The man shrugged. “See? Compared to people like that, you’re about as normal as it gets.”

Marvel stared at the underwear man for a few seconds, then slowly nodded. He believed him.

Marvel didn’t have to search for long.

As he passed an open-air barbecue stand, he spotted PhD sitting beside a petite young woman, dressed in his usual floral shirt, blazer, and slacks. Today, however, he wasn’t wearing his glasses—apparently, he had switched to contacts.

PhD had one arm draped around the girl’s shoulders and kept leaning closer to her. “Let me kiss you… just one kiss…”

The girl pushed hard against his chest with both hands. “No! Stop it!”

Marvel watched from a distance, completely impressed.

That’s… that’s PhD, he thought. A real scoundrel. I… I have so much to learn from him.

Suddenly, the man beside the girl was kicked several meters away, tumbling across the pavement in a ridiculous heap.

Marvel blinked and looked up.

Standing nearby was another PhD—same floral shirt, same blazer, same slacks. Except this one was wearing his glasses.

Marvel looked more closely. This man had a clean, sharp face and carried himself with calm precision. The one who had just been kicked away, on the other hand, had a pig-like nose and tiny slit-like eyes. Marvel immediately understood—this was the real PhD.

PhD hurried over to the girl, gently took her right hand in both of his, and asked, “Miss, are you okay? That pervert didn’t scare you too badly, did he? Don’t worry. I’m here now. I’ll protect you.”

Then he smiled warmly.

“By the way… do you have a boyfriend? If not, maybe we could go out sometime?”

The girl stared at PhD with obvious discomfort, then pointed toward the man still groaning on the pavement.

“That’s… actually my boyfriend.”

PhD glanced over and paused. The guy looked completely humiliated, his face twisted with pain and embarrassment.

Still, PhD smiled. “Ah… I see. Sorry about the misunderstanding.”

He leaned slightly closer to the girl. “But even if you already have a boyfriend… that doesn’t mean I can’t try, right? Tell me—do you like him more, or me?”

The girl stiffened. “I still really like my boyfriend. Can you please let go of my hand?”

PhD’s smile twitched.

Despite his bold opening, he had still ended up rejected.

PhD slowly let go of the girl’s hand, clearly frustrated. Almost casually, his hand drifted toward his zipper, as if he were about to resort to his ultimate technique.

But then he paused and glanced around. There were too many people—far too many witnesses. With a quiet sigh, he lowered his hand. There was no way he could unleash the Golden Dick here.

Just as PhD was about to leave, the fake PhD staggered back to his feet and shouted, “You! Stop right there! You think you can just walk away after that?”

He raised one fist and began gathering his energy, concentrating everything into it. The air around his knuckles seemed to distort slightly under the pressure.

“I’m going to beat you this time… because I’m in love!”

PhD stopped, calmly picked his nose, and rolled a dry booger between his fingers as if none of this concerned him.

The fake PhD charged forward and unleashed a furious barrage of punches, landing more than ten solid hits across PhD’s face and body.

PhD didn’t even flinch.

When the attack finally stopped, he casually flicked the booger away and asked in a perfectly polite voice, “Excuse me. Are you finished?”

PhD hadn’t taken any visible damage—not even a bruise.

BOOM!

He drove a casual Shoryuken-style uppercut straight into the fake PhD’s chin, launching him nearly three meters into the air before he crashed back onto the pavement with a painful thud.

PhD walked over, crouched beside him, grabbed the collar of his floral shirt with both hands, and ripped it apart. The shredded pieces drifted down through the air like cherry blossom petals.

He stood back up and looked down at him. “Next time, don’t copy my outfit. I really hate that.”

The girl immediately rushed over to her injured boyfriend, wrapped her arms around him, and begged PhD not to hurt him anymore. PhD let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead.

“Ah… shit. Guess today’s just not my day.”

Then he turned and walked away, with Marvel quietly following behind him.

For the entire week that followed, Marvel wore the same black pantyhose over his head and followed PhD everywhere, determined to uncover the secret behind his legendary success with women.

At a crowded subway station, Marvel watched PhD kneel in front of a girl with a bouquet of roses, confessing his love right in the middle of the train doorway. He blocked everyone from getting out, caused several passengers to miss their stop, and still got rejected.

At McDonald’s, PhD casually sat across from a random girl, stole a few of her fries, and said, “Such naughty fries… with such a naughty girl. What are you doing here, beautiful?”

The girl recoiled. “Get away from me, you creep!”

She grabbed her food and moved to another table.

Rejected again.

Then came the haunted house. A group of girls were nervously making their way through the dark when PhD suddenly descended from the ceiling upside down, staring at them expressionlessly.

“Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

The girls screamed, wet themselves in terror, and ran out crying.

Marvel kept watching and taking mental notes. But the more he observed, the more confused he became.

PhD’s success rate wasn’t nearly as high as Marvel had imagined.

In fact, it was shockingly low.

Then, finally, one day, PhD succeeded.

Marvel watched from the shadows as PhD took a young woman by the hand and led her into a love hotel. The woman herself was nothing remarkable—average-looking at best, perhaps even slightly below average. Still, Marvel squatted near the entrance and waited for nearly three hours until PhD eventually came back out alone.

But something about him felt different.

His posture was still upright, yet his eyes looked distant. There was no excitement, no pride, no sense of triumph—only a strange emptiness.

Marvel stared at him from behind the black pantyhose, his heart beating a little faster.

Could it be… that PhD isn’t actually happy?

For the first time, Marvel stopped seeing him as some untouchable god of seduction. Standing there alone, PhD looked more like a lonely man searching for something—or perhaps someone—he still hadn’t found.

One week later, Marvel was still following PhD.

At first, he had only wanted to learn the secret behind PhD’s success with women. But now, another question had started bothering him: why did PhD always seem so empty inside? Who was he really searching for?

Then, on a busy street, both Marvel and PhD noticed the same woman walking ahead while talking on her phone.

From the very first glance, both of them stopped.

She wore a flowing white dress. Her face was soft and almost angelic, while her figure carried a completely different kind of temptation.

PhD immediately started following her, and Marvel immediately started following PhD.

This time, however, PhD finally noticed the strange figure following behind him—a creepy-looking man with black pantyhose stretched over his head.

He glanced back for a moment, then smirked. Makes sense, he thought. With a woman this beautiful, of course I wouldn’t be the only one following her. That pervert must be after her too.

PhD chuckled quietly to himself. “Well, brother… you might have to wait your turn. I’m going first. You can have whatever’s left.”

The pursuit continued for nearly thirty minutes. The woman walked past a park, crossed a supermarket, and turned through several winding streets, still talking casually on her phone while PhD followed behind her—and Marvel followed behind PhD.

Eventually, she turned into a dead-end alley.

PhD’s eyes lit up. No witnesses. Perfect.

He adjusted his stance, reached down with complete seriousness, and slowly unzipped his pants. A faint golden glow began to spill out from beneath his blazer.

It was time to unleash the Golden Dick.

Just as PhD was about to unleash his technique, the woman suddenly stopped.

“Jesus, stop nagging me! I said I’m coming. Give me a few minutes!” she snapped into the phone.

Still holding the phone, she looked up at the three-meter wall blocking the end of the alley.

Then, without even pausing to think, she jumped.

Her knees folded sharply beneath her as her body shot upward in one smooth motion. For a brief instant, she seemed almost weightless. She pulled the phone away from her ear, stretched one arm out for balance, and extended the other with the phone still in hand, her body gliding over the top of the wall with the clean, effortless posture of a trained martial artist.

Then she vanished behind it.

PhD froze.

For several seconds, PhD simply stood there staring at the wall, visibly disappointed.

“…What the hell? I followed you for half an hour, and… oh… you just got away like that?”

Then he sensed someone behind him.

PhD slowly turned his head and saw the creepy-looking man with black pantyhose stretched over his head peeking around the corner of the alley wall.

Marvel’s eyes were wide. The faint golden glow reflected across the black nylon covering his face.

He slowly stepped out from behind the wall.

“Holy shit…” he whispered. “I… I finally discovered your secret…”

PhD stared at him.

Marvel’s pupils had widened unnaturally, and deep within his eyes, a faint trace of golden light was still flickering.

PhD’s expression changed instantly. There was a little surprise in his eyes, a little disbelief, and just a trace of panic.

“Oh… shit…”

He swallowed.

“Fuck… me…”