The Innocent Perv — Part 2

Section 1: Questions from the Audience

After the commercial break, the program returned to the live studio. The host was once again smiling warmly as he addressed the audience.

“Welcome back, everyone,” he said. “In just the few minutes during the break, we received a flood of viewer questions. We’ve picked two of the most interesting ones to ask our guest, Mr. Marvel.”

He lifted a cue card. “Let’s start with the first one. A lot of viewers want to know what happened to the young man from the café. Is he still alive?”

The host glanced down at the card. “Well, according to the latest information we received, he’s out of immediate danger. He’s been transferred from the ICU to a regular hospital room. Unfortunately, his face has been permanently disfigured. Apparently, he looks a bit like a pig now.”

He paused, then smiled toward Marvel. “But I suppose there’s a bright side. It looks like Mr. Marvel’s Face Destruction Punch may have saved countless innocent young women in the future. That young man is no longer handsome enough to go around deceiving their innocent hearts.”

The host turned to Marvel. “Mr. Marvel, how do you feel about his condition?”

Marvel sat perfectly upright, his hands folded neatly on the table, his expression calm and serious.

“I… I think this is… probably the best outcome,” he said. “I just… just hope he can learn… learn from his mistakes and… and become a better person.”

The host nodded approvingly. “Well said.”

The host glanced back down at the cue card.

“Alright, let’s move on to our second question.”

He read aloud:

“This viewer writes—and I quote—‘Marvel is basically a pervert who almost raped someone. So why the hell is he sitting here on a talk show like he’s some kind of guest speaker? Shouldn’t he already be in jail? I heard the police showed up at the café afterward. So what happened? Why wasn’t he arrested?’”

The room went quiet.

The camera turned to Marvel. He sat perfectly upright, his hands still folded neatly on the table, and gave a slow nod.

“I… I think people have… misunderstood me,” he said calmly. “They call me a… a pervert. They say I’m… I’m violent. But I’m… I’m really not. I’m just… just an innocent boy.”

“I… I never litter,” Marvel continued. “If I saw a… a dog fall into a river, I’d… I’d save it. I always help… help old ladies cross the street. I’ve never even… even been in a relationship.”

“Boring,” the host said flatly.

Marvel stopped.

“Mr. Marvel, our audience wants to know what actually happened. The police showed up at the café that day. So why weren’t you arrested? Why aren’t you behind bars right now? I think we’re all dying to know.”

Marvel gave a small nod.

The screen faded out once again, taking them back to that chaotic afternoon.

Section 2: The Wrong Suspect

A squad of police officers rushed into the café, led by Grayson—a short, half-bald officer swaggering confidently at the front of the group.

Grayson stopped dramatically in the middle of the chaos, planted one hand on his hip, and pointed forward with the other, posing like the star of an action movie.

“Move in! Apprehend the suspect!” he barked with authority.

The officers immediately looked around, then at each other. None of them had any idea who the suspect was.

Their eyes scanned the mess—overturned tables, spilled drinks, crying staff, and debris everywhere. In the middle of it all stood the café owner: broad-shouldered, furious, one arm bleeding, with a tattoo running along his forearm.

One of the officers pointed at him. “It’s gotta be him.”

Another nodded immediately. “No doubt about it.”

The cops charged forward all at once and tackled the café owner to the floor.

“Don’t resist!” one officer yelled, pinning him down.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the café owner shouted from the floor. “I’m the one who called you, idiots!”

SMACK!

One of the officers slapped him across the face.

“Who are you calling an idiot? Shut your damn mouth!”

Meanwhile, Marvel slowly stood up nearby. He dusted off his slacks and calmly straightened his clothes, looking completely at ease, as if none of the chaos around him had anything to do with him.

A customer standing nearby finally shouted, “Hey! You got the wrong guy!” He pointed straight at Marvel. “That’s him! That’s the guy!”

Grayson turned and squinted at Marvel, looking him up and down—the stiff posture, the round glasses, the neatly parted hair, and the perfectly calm expression.

Marvel didn’t look threatening at all.

If anything, he looked like a harmless nobody—the kind of person you could pass on the street without giving a second glance. With his Zhongshan suit buttoned all the way to the top, his round glasses, and his perfectly upright posture, he looked more like a model student obsessed with books and exams than someone who had just beaten a man half to death.

Grayson studied him for another moment, then stepped forward.

“You. Are you the suspect?”

Marvel calmly shook his head. “No… no, I’m not.”

Grayson pointed at the unconscious boy on the floor. “Did you do that to him?”

Marvel nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I gave that… that scumbag a good beating. Some… some good-for-nothing player messing with… with women’s hearts. I just wanted to… to teach him a lesson so… so he wouldn’t do it again.”

SMACK!

Grayson slapped the back of Marvel’s head.

“You dumbass! You beat the guy half to death! That makes you the suspect!”

Marvel slowly shook his head, looking completely innocent.

In his mind, he hadn’t committed any crime. He wasn’t the bad guy. He was the good guy—the one who had stepped in, taught a scumbag a lesson, and saved an innocent girl.

One of the officers stepped forward, ready to cuff Marvel.

But Grayson raised a hand. “Hold it.”

“I’ll search him first. Need to make sure he’s not carrying a weapon.”

Section 3: A Thousand-Dollar Misunderstanding

Grayson stepped closer and began patting Marvel down. The search was strangely casual and half-hearted. His hands lingered around Marvel’s coat and pants pockets a little longer than necessary, while the rest of the inspection seemed almost like an afterthought.

Then, by accident, his hand brushed against the inside of Marvel’s thigh.

Grayson suddenly recoiled.

“The hell is this?!” he shouted. “Why the fuck are you this stiff?! What the hell are you thinking about right now?!”

Marvel scratched his head awkwardly. His cheeks slowly turned red, and a little drool appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Ah… s-sorry,” he said softly. “That… that kiss earlier really… really got to me. I… I don’t know what’s happening. I think… I think I’m falling in love with her.”

He swallowed and pressed a hand against his chest. “My heart… my heart’s beating so fast. I… I think I might be… having a heart attack.”

As he spoke, the excitement only seemed to intensify. The front of his pants strained visibly against the fabric, looking almost ready to punch a hole straight through and expose his cock in public.

Grayson stared at Marvel for a moment.

This guy didn’t seem like a creep at all. If anything, he seemed innocent—almost painfully pure, like a boy who knew nothing about the ways of the world and was simply filled with innocent hopes and expectations about love.

Grayson casually reached into Marvel’s coat pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash—about a thousand dollars.

He waved it in front of Marvel’s face.

“What’re you doing walking around with this much cash? You got some sketchy plans or what?”

A cold drop of sweat slid down Marvel’s temple.

The thousand dollars was his paycheck. He had just gotten paid that day—two weeks of hard work, all sitting right there in Grayson’s hand.

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, what were you planning to do with all this cash?”

Marvel hesitated. “I… I was just going to… to get a prostitute. I mean… I… I was going to buy… buy some groceries.”

Grayson stared at him for a moment, then casually slipped the entire thousand dollars into his own pocket.

Then he clapped his hands and turned to the other officers.

“Well, folks,” he announced. “Looks like this was all just a big misunderstanding. No one got seriously hurt, and nobody died.”

He pointed toward the door. “Pack it up. We’re done here.”

Grayson walked up to Marvel and gave him a firm slap on the shoulder.

“I think you’re a good boy,” he said with a grin. “One day, you might grow up to be as excellent as I am.”

The café owner stared at the two of them.

Oh no… God help us if that ever happens.

Then Grayson turned on his heel and led his officers out of the café, leaving behind a trail of confusion and disbelief. The customers and staff stared after them, stunned and speechless, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Marvel simply straightened his Zhongshan suit and calmly walked out after them.

Section 4: An Important Errand

On the way back to the station, one of the younger officers finally spoke up.

“Chief, why’d you let that guy go? He nearly killed someone.”

Grayson kept walking. “I don’t know. I just saw that boy and he reminded me of myself when I was younger. Innocent. Pure. Still believed in love.”

The officer stared at him. “That guy?”

“Yeah.” Grayson nodded. “Jail would ruin him.”

A few minutes later, the officers passed The Forbidden Garden. Grayson suddenly stopped.

“You guys go ahead back to the station,” he said. “I’ve got something very important to take care of. Get started on the paperwork. I’ll be back later.”

The other officers continued down the street. Grayson waited until they were gone, then turned toward the entrance of The Forbidden Garden with a grin.

“Oh yeah baby… A thousand bucks in my pocket… best prostitute in the house, here I come.”

Section 5: The Final Question

The screen faded, bringing the audience back to the studio.

Marvel was still sitting perfectly upright in his chair, his hands folded neatly on the table as if he had just finished telling a completely ordinary story.

The host nodded approvingly. “Officer Grayson. Brilliant and perceptive as always. It seems he saw something in you that everyone else failed to see—that deep down, you were still just an innocent boy who believed in love.”

Marvel gave a small nod. “I… I think he… he understood me.”

Across the table, Professor Stiffen Hawking was already stretched out sideways across the sofa, lazily scratching his crotch with one hand. His eyes were nearly closed, and he looked like he was about to drift off to sleep.

The host looked down at the cue card in his hand.

“Well, Mr. Marvel, it looks like we still have a little time left, so we can squeeze in one last extra question.”

He looked up at Marvel, his expression suddenly serious.

“Back at the café, when you forced yourself on that young woman… did you actually intend to rape her?”

Marvel blinked behind his round glasses.

For the first time in the interview, he seemed to give the question some serious thought.

Marvel looked directly at the host, his expression perfectly serious.

“Have I… I ever peeked under… under a girl’s skirt? Have I ever… ever fantasized about my best… best female friend? Have I ever pretended to… to accidentally bump my elbow into… into a woman’s chest? Have I ever stayed up… up late at night… jerking off to porn?”

The host stared at him, slightly taken aback by the questions. Then he quickly shook his head.

“Nope, sir.”

Marvel answered with slightly more emphasis, as though correcting an obvious misunderstanding.

“Of course I have.”

The studio fell dead silent.

After a brief silence, Marvel continued, his voice settling back into its usual serious tone.

“But that day… I… I never once thought about… about raping her. Not even… even for a second. I just wanted to… to save her.”

The host studied Marvel for a moment.

Marvel sat perfectly upright, meeting his gaze through his round glasses with the same sincere, almost childlike expression he had worn throughout the interview.

After a moment, the host slowly nodded.

The host leaned back slightly, studying Marvel for another moment.

“I believe you, Mr. Marvel.”

Section 6: A Truly Remarkable Man

Marvel gave a small nod.

The host turned toward the camera. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think today’s interview has shown us what kind of man Mr. Marvel truly is. He saw an innocent young woman in danger, and he chose to step in and save her. Yet instead of being praised for his courage, he was misunderstood, criticized, and called a pervert.”

He paused, his expression solemn.

“But Mr. Marvel never allowed the judgment of others to stop him from doing what he believed was right. He followed his heart, stood by his principles, and helped someone when he believed she needed him most.”

The host smiled warmly. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes him a truly remarkable man.”

The host turned back to Marvel.

“Mr. Marvel, thank you for joining us today and sharing your story with the people of Flushing City.”

Marvel nodded politely. “Thank… thank you for… for having me.”

The host smiled. “And of course, as promised, you’ll receive a one-thousand-dollar appearance fee for today’s interview.”

Marvel’s eyes lit up slightly.

“Thank… thank you.”

For the first time that day, something had finally gone Marvel’s way.

The interview ended shortly afterward.

Marvel left the studio with his thousand-dollar appearance fee and headed straight to The Forbidden Garden.

The host, however, wasn’t quite as fortunate.

After the episode aired, his overwhelmingly sympathetic treatment of Marvel quickly earned him a new nickname among viewers: Indifference.

Not long after that, the station fired him.

In the weeks that followed, Marvel’s story gradually faded from the public eye. Like so many strange stories in Flushing City, people eventually stopped talking about it and moved on.

The host had already lost his job, but he left behind an unexpected legacy.

Section 7: The Next Generation

A few weeks later, on a playground somewhere in Flushing City, a young boy was walking through the sandbox when he accidentally kicked the corner of another boy’s sandcastle, sending part of it crumbling to the ground.

“Hey! You clumsy, yo! Watch where you’re going!”

The boy slowly turned around and glared at him.

“What the dickhead did you just say?”

The children nearby burst out laughing.