I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

Chapter 105 Why Do You Have a Problem with Toilets? (10K Long Chapter, Requesting Monthly Tickets and Subscriptions)

It snowed heavily overnight, and the temperature suddenly dropped by ten degrees.

December 12th, Christmas Eve.

Most businesses have ceased operations.

On Christmas Eve afternoon, the main hall of St. Patrick's Cathedral was brightly lit.

Sawyer-Belmont wore a crimson cloak with a golden cross around his neck, and was followed by four bishops and twelve attendants.

He personally visited Debbie, handing her a "good news letter" sealed with gold foil, and smiled and addressed the seven or eight media cameras outside the door.

The flashbulbs went off everywhere.

Debbie Dixon's name was immediately featured in the religious sections of major New York online media outlets, with phrases like "prepared saint" and "daughter favored by God" appearing frequently.

With the NYPD fire, a large amount of data was lost, and the incriminating material about Mike disappeared, causing public opinion to shift.

Discussions about the NYPD fire overshadowed the scandals surrounding Mike.

However, most ordinary people have no idea what the "canonization case" is; it's just something to talk about online.

The New York Catholic Church leadership, however, began to focus their attention on Debbie's canonization case.

The seemingly improbable canonization proposal that Sawyer initially pushed for is now gradually becoming a reality.

The fire at the NYPD destroyed the potential hazards of the black material in the microphone, which, in the eyes of devout believers, was also a form of divine protection.

Did that girl really receive divine favor?

Is it really possible for her to become a prospective saint?

However, it still seems difficult; America hasn't had a living saint for many years.

This matter is not limited to New York, or even to the United States; churches worldwide will be paying attention to it.

If you in New York have a saint, but we don't, wouldn't it seem like we're not protected?

Unless Debbie can keep performing miracles...

"Damn it, I don't want to go to that bunch of old men's midnight mass. I want to go to my classmates' party!" Debbie was throwing a tantrum at home.

Catherine remained silent as she watched the makeup artist apply her makeup.

For this canonization case, Sawyer sent the archbishop's personal makeup artist and stylist.

Today is Debbie's first public appearance in front of important figures, so it's very important.

Richard sat quietly in the back reading a book, occasionally looking up.

Debbie was frightened by Richard's gaze, and could only grumble a few words, not daring to move.

"Damn it! This skirt is choking me!" Debbie complained.

As a candidate for sainthood, Debbie was to wear a specially made white gown.

It wasn't an ordinary white dress, but a "catechumen's robe" custom-made by the church's exclusive tailor.

The upper body is fitted with a high-necked long-sleeved top, with a simplified cross pattern embroidered on the chest. The waist is cinched with a wide satin ribbon, and the skirt hem reaches the ankles. A cape of the same color is then draped over the top.

The stylist styled her hair into an intricate updo, secured it with a silver hairnet, ensuring not a single stray hair was left in front of her forehead, and finally covered it with a pure white silk shawl trimmed with gold.

Her neck was also tightly wrapped, from her neck all the way to her ears, with not a single bit of skin showing.

Debbie felt like she was trapped in a stiff wetsuit, with no airflow in any part of her body except for her face.

Around his neck hung a heavy, golden cross, personally blessed by Sawyer.

The whole process lasted a full hour and a half. Debbie was so choked that she couldn't breathe and felt uncomfortable whether she was sitting or standing.

The New York Catholic Church's liturgical director personally explained the midnight mass procedure to Debbie, a process so complicated it made her scalp tingle:

When entering, keep your head down and stand in the designated position.

She is required to stand up and bow when the Pope's representative delivers his address.

When singing hymns, sing along, but not too loudly or too softly.

Finally, one must walk alone to the altar to receive the archbishop's blessing.

There's no need to worry about her not remembering; there will be someone to guide her every step. She just needs to listen obediently.

Debbie felt like she would be manipulated like a puppet for more than two hours.

"This is terrible!" Debbie complained.

The head of etiquette's expression changed slightly, but he pretended not to hear.

Catherine calmly said, "A midnight mass in exchange for a Princeton recommendation letter. If this news gets out, every girl in New York will be scrambling to wear this dress."

"Okay, okay," Debbie said helplessly. She looked at herself in the mirror, at the old-fashioned and conservative dress she had never worn in her life. "My classmates will laugh at me. I'll look like a medieval nun with her head wrapped up."

"At least the nuns can show their faces, but I can't even see my neck," Debbie thought to herself.

The head of etiquette remained silent and continued explaining.

The stylist tightened the inner corset.

"I can't breathe! Loosen up! Loosen up!" Debbie grimaced as the tightness tightened around her, feeling dizzy and her hands were cold.

"What's wrong?" the stylist asked worriedly, noticing that she seemed a little unsteady.

"I am on a diet."

The head of the ceremonies said respectfully, "You'd better eat more today, the ceremony is quite long."

Debbie glanced at Richard, her face resolute: "No, I have to lose weight. I want to participate in the Super Bowl. I'm the prettiest cheerleader."

Richard couldn't understand why Debbie was so obsessed with cheerleaders.

However, everyone has their own pursuits, and he continued reading.

At 11 p.m., Catherine drove Debbie and Richard to St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Debbie wore a heavy down jacket, carefully wrapping her precious gown inside, afraid of wrinkling it.

Upon entering, she took off her down jacket and was taken over by two church deacons who helped her tidy up her entire outfit. Then, the head of the ceremonies led the way, and she was led to her designated seat in the front row like a delicate doll with limited mobility, her eyes glazed over.

Richard almost burst out laughing; he had never seen Debbie so clueless.

Mass has begun.

As the organ music began, the children's choir voices floated down from the dome.

Debbie stood in the designated spot with a worried expression, her hands clasped in front of her, her eyes downcast.

She didn't like this feeling, but the solemn atmosphere around her made her afraid to move, yet she felt tense all over, with an uncomfortable tingling sensation.

As a cheerleader who spends most of her time jumping around, this environment made her feel uncomfortable all over.

Archbishop Sawyer stood before the altar and led the prayer, followed by the other bishops who came forward in turn to pray.

The believers below the stage were extremely solemn, their faces filled with piety.

Even though Debbie disliked it, she was affected by the solemn and dignified atmosphere, and her expression became much calmer, making her look somewhat like a saint.

Richard saw the desires in the hearts of these bishops: longing, jealousy, envy, anger...

You bunch of false believers!

He didn't see a single sign of atheism from beginning to end.

Richard, not wanting to waste time, retreated to the private lounge prepared for Debbie and started scrolling through his phone, posing as a member of the saint's family.

Debbie watched Richard leave with envy. She still had to play the role of a puppet, being guided to the altar to receive a blessing.

Sawyer placed a hand on her head and recited a Latin blessing.

Debbie struggled to read along, thinking, "Damn clothes! I can't breathe!"

The flash went off once, instructing the photographer to take a picture.

Immediately afterwards, a flurry of flashes went off.

Some journalists also attended the midnight mass, which, as an annual major Catholic event, still garnered some attention even among conservative Catholic families.

The whole process lasted for more than an hour.

At the end, Debbie was taken by Sawyer to meet three important donors to the parish, all of whom were elderly men and women with gray hair. They held her hands and said some nonsense like "God is watching over you."

A stiff smile hung on her face, her mind was starting to spin, and she had no idea who the other person was.

"Where did Richard go?" Debbie asked, subtly looking around.

I'm starving.

She was manipulated for two hours and felt like her whole body was about to fall apart; it was more tiring than dancing for two hours.

My head was spinning in waves, and my mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts.

You haven't eaten enough; you need to eat more.

What are these old men babbling about?!

I drank too much water and now I need to urinate.

When can I go to the bathroom?

For Richard, it was just an ordinary holiday; he just wanted to see what a high society mass was like.

My phone rang; it was a message from Alex: "Any plans for tonight? I'm delivering food to poor children. Want to come check it out?"

As a student of Tokyo University, Alex doesn't participate in Christmas Eve activities and doesn't care much about Christmas. He's usually only interested in beautiful women at Christmas. I don't know why he suddenly decided to do charity work today.

"Bringing food to the children?" Richard asked.

Alex said, "Yes, I donate a few hundred dollars every year to deliver meals to poor children in the neighborhood. Around Christmas Eve, Halloween, and things like that. It's very cold today, and many children are having a hard time."

Richard discovered for the first time that Alex was actually quite kind-hearted.

"Fine, I've got nothing better to do anyway." He had lost all interest in this hypocritical ritual where everyone wore masks.

Alex immediately replied, "I'll head out now to buy some food. It should take about an hour. I'll send you the address."

Richard checked the navigation; the location was very close to St. Patrick's Cathedral, just a few minutes' drive away, across the river: "Okay, I'll go there then."

Every year during the holidays, kind-hearted people bring food to children and homeless people.

Normally, no one dares to do charity or donate food casually, as that would violate the "no feeding homeless" regulations.

In the United States, charity isn't something you can just do whenever you want.

The ceremony finally came to an end.

After completing the complicated ceremony and meeting with several powerful supporters, Debbie felt drowsy.

The symptoms of hypoglycemia are becoming more and more obvious.

"I need to get something to eat."

Debbie thought to herself, glancing at Catherine, who seemed quite interested in the occasion.

"With Mom here, there shouldn't be any problem."

.

Debbie seized an opportunity to slip back to the lounge.

Richard was leisurely reclining on the sofa scrolling through his phone when he saw Debbie and said lazily, "Huh? You're back? Is it over?"

Debbie felt a pang of resentment seeing Richard looking so relaxed: "I have to be outside in shackles dealing with those hypocrites, and you're just playing on your phone?"

"Otherwise what?" Richard said matter-of-factly. "You're the one who wants to go to Princeton, not me."

Debbie was speechless, then felt another urge to urinate, and could only grimace as she tried to take off her clothes: "How am I supposed to undo this damn dress? It's so tight!"

She fiddled with it for a while but couldn't take it off, and she was almost crying from holding it in.

"Help me, Richard."

Richard saw that she was really in pain, so he stood up and pondered with her. They found that this thing was indeed not something an ordinary person could solve.

He could only take photos and search while researching with his phone.

Debbie pressed her legs together in a hurry: "Hurry up, I can't hold it in any longer."

"Shall I tear it open for you?"

"No, it's too expensive! $15800 a set! Is it gold-plated?"

Richard continued to examine Debbie's back: "Then you'll just have to wait and let me take another look. Speaking of which, this thing might actually be inlaid with gold; I feel the gold thread is real gold."

Debbie rubbed her legs back and forth, her face flushed with anxiety: "Oh dear! How come you can't even unbutton your clothes?"

Richard glared at her: "Why don't you solve it yourself?"

Debbie shrank back: "Hurry up, hurry up, I really can't hold it in anymore."

Why are you always in such a hurry to find the toilet?

Debbie screamed, "Don't bring up what happened in the car again! We already said that!"

Richard chuckled.

He finally learned the method, untied a row of complicated buttons, and then untied the rope, revealing the huge and expensive gown on the ground.

Debbie leaped out like a monkey jumping out of the Five Finger Mountain, almost jumping, and rushed to the bathroom without even unbuttoning her tight-fitting underwear.

Richard tossed the dress onto the sofa and continued playing on his phone.

He had just sat down when he heard a muffled thud coming from the bathroom.

Pfft!

Richard frowned, stood up, and asked, "Debbie? What happened?"

There was no sound inside.

Richard decisively pushed open the bathroom door and went inside.

Debbie was lying face down on the toilet, motionless, her pants pulled down and soaked.

Richard immediately stepped forward: "What happened?"

Debbie said in a tearful voice, "I'm dizzy, my vision is going black, and I can't see anything clearly. Am I going to die... Waaaaah."

Richard touched her forehead; it was covered in cold sweat, and her face was pale.

"It's nothing, just low blood sugar," Richard diagnosed. "You've been dieting too much, eating too little."

Richard quickly pulled up her half-down pants, helped Debbie sit up, and leaned her against the toilet: "Wait a minute, I'll go get you something to eat."

He immediately returned to the mass, grabbed some sweets and pastries and a Coke, and quickly went back to the room to hand them to Debbie: "Eat these, and you'll recover right away."

Debbie's face turned pale. She closed her eyes tightly and gulped down half a bottle of water. She then ate a few bites of pastry. The empty feeling in her stomach finally eased a lot, and the cold sweat subsided.

A few minutes later, she finally calmed down and let out a long sigh of relief: "I felt like I was going to die."

"Hmm, it's a normal reaction to low blood sugar. Remember in the future, don't go overboard with dieting."

"Oh..." Debbie was still shaken. Suddenly, she felt something wet down there and a foul smell. She screamed, "Get out of here!"

Richard pouted, "I was the one who pulled up your pants just now, what are you calling me now?"

Debbie was both embarrassed and annoyed, and also felt a strange impulse. Unfortunately, there were still church members outside, so she dared not do anything and could only say, blushing, "You go out first!"

"Why are you so obsessed with toilets?" Richard left with a smug look on his face.

Debbie wished she could shove herself into the toilet.

It took her a while to recover, and just as she was about to take off her dirty clothes, Richard suddenly pushed open the bathroom door again.

Debbie screamed in fright and quickly crouched down to cover herself: "What are you doing?!"

Richard scoffed, "You usually wear much less on the court, what do you call that?"

"How can that be the same!"

Richard tossed in a bag of clothes—her everyday clothes, which she had brought in advance to change into after Mass.

Richard closed the door and called out from outside, "Change your clothes."

Debbie blushed and quickly locked the door.

A full half hour later, she finally finished cleaning herself up and came out of the bathroom, glaring at Richard and saying, "Don't tell anyone!"

"What?" Richard feigned ignorance.

"You know what I'm talking about! Don't you dare tell anyone about the toilet again!"

Richard laughed: "Don't worry, I didn't see anything."

Debbie pouted: "I don't believe you."

She had changed into her usual clothes and finally felt much more comfortable, as if she had returned to the human world from hell.

Richard stood up: "Are you waiting for Catherine to go home together, or do you want to come out for a walk with me? It's too stuffy here."

"I don't want to stay here at all, let's get out of here!" Debbie said with disgust. "It's too hypocritical here. Everyone's lying, everyone knows the others are lying, but they still lie. What are you going to do here?"

"That's how high society is," Richard said calmly. "I have a friend who's planning to deliver some food to children from poor families."

"Bringing food to kids? Great idea!" Debbie had seen some students from poor families at Francis Lewis High School who struggled to even get enough to eat.

Those people get free lunches; Debbie has seen it, and it's terrible.

Although it's a bit cold outside, it's still better than being here.

"OK." Richard nodded. "Tell your mom."

Debbie picked up her phone and texted Catherine: "Richard and I are going out for a bit. When you leave, just go ahead and don't wait for me."

Catherine replied with a message: "Are you coming home tonight?"

Debbie blushed slightly when she saw the message.

She bit her lip, looked at Richard, and didn't reply for a long time.

Are you going home tonight?

A while later, Catherine sent another message: "Be careful."

What safety precautions should be taken? Catherine didn't say.

Debbie's cheeks were even redder.

Richard was ready. He glanced at the screen, grabbed the phone, and sent a message: "Go home. Don't worry."

After sending the message, he tossed his phone to Debbie: "What are you standing there for? You need to reply to Mom's question as soon as possible. Let's go."

Debbie grimaced in anger.

ass!

The two left St. Patrick's Cathedral together from the back, and Debbie's mood immediately improved.

The place is indeed adorned with flowers, filled with luxury cars and fine clothes.

The affected tone of the upper-class ladies made Debbie feel extremely uncomfortable.

She grew up in a middle-class family and felt like an ugly duckling in that situation.

Although most people were polite to her, she could see the disdain and contempt in their eyes, as if she were just a lucky person who had managed to sneak in.

"I didn't want to come!" Debbie pointed to the brightly lit cathedral. "I don't belong in that world."

Richard glanced at her: "Why are you suddenly feeling sentimental?"

Debbie repeated, "I don't belong in that world. I like to dance on the court, work up a sweat, listen to some loud music, and then gossip with those bitches."

4

The vehicle moved slowly through the snow and mud; the road was slippery, and Richard drove very slowly.

Richard said, "Everyone has to do things they don't like. The world doesn't revolve around our preferences, even if you're a god. You know? At Dongda University, even if you're a god, if worshippers offer you incense, you have to do your job. That's called dedication to your work. Hehe."

"Even God can't be free?" Debbie pouted. "If I were God, I'd have everyone singing and dancing, and give the world endless food. Also, I don't like this damn winter; dancing is too cold."

She pointed to the sky: "Isn't that guy up there omnipotent? Why can't he make the world eternally spring-like, always 25 degrees Celsius? Why can't he make the earth grow an endless supply of food? Why can't he make everyone happy?"

"Because that guy doesn't even exist," Richard laughed. "But you still have to pretend he does. You're a saint, after all."

"Yeah, I'm a saint, after all." Debbie sighed, utterly dejected. Thinking about the photos she took today, she wailed, "My classmates are going to laugh at me! That outfit is even more ridiculous than a medieval nun's. I'm a cheerleader, for crying out loud!"

"No, they'll only envy you," Richard said calmly. "Did you see today's Mass? Archbishop Sawyer-Belmont, the Pope's envoy, New York City Mayor Madsen..."

Big stars, big tycoons—many important figures were present. This scene will definitely be broadcast on television. You're famous among your classmates! Even if you don't get chosen as a saint, you'll still get into Princeton, and maybe you can even become an internet celebrity and gain hundreds of thousands of followers based on this experience.

"Great idea!" Debbie's eyes lit up. "I should open an online account!"

Richard's lips twitched slightly: "Are you sure? Those old men already dislike you showing your legs in public. Becoming an internet celebrity? They'd definitely find that even more unbearable."

Debbie also has a personal account. Although she is famous, she has not managed it much. She has a few thousand followers, which is enough for her to show off in class.

"I don't care about them! Secular ideas are constantly eroding young people, and it is the shepherd's duty to actively spread faith to them."

"Wow, being a saintess really makes a difference; she speaks so eloquently."

Debbie giggled, a hint of pride in her eyes. These were some of the few things she'd jotted down after listening to the bishop ramble on all night. Suddenly, she asked, "What do you think about me joining the cheerleading team? I've heard that people at East University don't like women showing their faces in public."

"Showing your face in public? You've read quite a few stories about Tokyo University, haven't you?" Richard chuckled. "I think it's alright."

"That's good." Debbie's mood brightened.

The vehicle slowly came to a stop on a street block.

In the old neighborhood of Flushing, the streetlights are dim, with only a few still lit, and a small stall is set up under one of them.

A group of kind-hearted people spontaneously organized a small event to deliver meals to children from poor families.

Several folding tables were pushed together, with steaming pizza boxes and insulated containers on them.

A dozen or so children were lined up, the oldest being around ten years old and the youngest only four or five. They were dressed in thin clothes, their noses running from the cold, their skin red, and their lips purple.

They were wearing simple sneakers, their shoes soaked through in the muddy snow—definitely not shoes for winter.

In this most powerful and wealthiest empire in the world, children from poor families look like this.

If it could be any less human, America would be absolutely inhuman.

Christmas Eve is roughly similar to New Year's Eve at Tokyo University. People often don't have enough to eat on Christmas Eve, but what about on other days?

If this scene happened at Southeast University, and someone took a picture and posted it online, turning it into news, the poverty alleviation office would be in trouble for as many words as the headline.

Richard sighed.

However, this has nothing to do with me. They can only provide themselves with enough raw materials by not acting like human beings.

Richard, Alex, and Debbie distribute food together.

After receiving their pizzas, the children squatted in a sheltered corner and ate them heartily.

Some people ate half of their food and then carefully put the rest into bags and stuffed them into their clothes, perhaps intending to take it back to their families.

Richard met an acquaintance.

Irving-Morris was also there, silently handing out food to the children.

"Hey, Kyrie."

"Hey, Richard." The two greeted each other.

The three of them decided to work together as deliverymen.

Richard noticed some chilblains on Irving's fingers: "You got frostbite?"

"It's alright. I've been coming every night lately. It's so cold, and these children have no food. I'm afraid they'll get sick," Owen said with a sorrowful tone.

Debbie felt that the young man in front of her was more like a real bishop than the gold-and-silver-clad bishops in St. Patrick's Cathedral across the river.

Richard sensed that Irving was trying to atone for his sins.

He has been in a low mood ever since he found out he was also earning extra money.

Bringing food to the children seems to relieve the guilt in my heart.

He is a good person.

Unfortunately, this country doesn't need good people.

Alex and his two companions, along with Debbie, finished delivering the food, but hungry children continued to arrive.

News of the food being delivered had spread.

They were very disappointed when they saw that the food had run out, and looked pitifully at Alex and the others.

Dozens of thin, bony children surrounded her, dressed in light clothing, some of them clearly a size too big. This scene deeply shocked Debbie.

She asked, puzzled, "Why are they so hungry?"

Debbie's understanding of "hungry children" is probably similar to the group of black children at Francis Lewis High School. They are very hungry, but not to the point of not having a clean set of clothes, a winter down jacket, or even going hungry on Christmas Eve.

This was completely beyond her imagination.

Shouldn't this kind of situation only occur in places like Africa?

Irving remained silent.

Alex sighed, "What kind of poor people are the ones you've met? Those who can afford to go to Francis High School are at least blue-collar workers or better. The situation here is far worse: runaway fathers, drug-addicted mothers, broken families, and a starving child. Most of these kids have mental health issues, and when they grow up, they'll repeat their parents' experiences, like an endless cycle, never finding relief, until one day they collapse on the street. Maybe from hunger, maybe from the cold, maybe from a drug overdose. I've seen it all."

'

Debbie's big eyes widened.

"They'll still starve to death?"

"What do you think?" Alex bluntly shattered Debbie's worldview: "Starving to death is actually a good thing; at least you didn't turn into a Gundam."

Richard and Irving haven't changed much; working at OCME, they've seen plenty of corpses like this.

"What is Gundam?" Debbie asked blankly.

Alex did not answer.

The number of children is increasing.

Richard and his two companions pooled together another thousand dollars and had a delivery driver bring them enough pizzas.

Under the dim streetlights, Alex connected the car's power supply to set up the lights, illuminating a small open space.

Dozens of children buried themselves in their food, the aroma of oil spreading, and the atmosphere gradually becoming pleasant.

Richard stood in the cold, dark snowy night, looking at the magnificent St. Patrick's Cathedral on the opposite bank, and felt a strange sense of irony.

Just then, a luxury yacht slowly sailed across the river, and excited shouts came from the yacht.

They were dressed in gorgeous gowns, holding bottles of red wine, and swaying wildly to the loud music.

Suddenly, one of the guys stripped naked, rushed to the side of the boat, and jumped into the river with an excited scream.

The companions rushed to the railing, shouting excitedly like wild beasts.

"He jumped!"

"FXXK! Richard really jumped!"

"FXXK! He's such a man!"

"Help me! I'm freezing to death!" the guy who jumped into the river screamed.

He must have drunk too much and jumped in in his excitement. Once he got into the water, he found it was so cold that he almost got a cramp.

His companions laughed heartily, but no one offered to help.

The crew members were panicked; the death of even one of these young masters would be a major incident.

They hurriedly threw in a lifebuoy, finally managing to pull the reckless guy up.

Amidst the chaotic and absurd revelry, the yacht slowly sailed into the boundless darkness.

Daylight has broken; it's Christmas Day.

Debbie jumped out of bed excitedly as soon as she opened her eyes and rushed downstairs.

Richard was already leaning against the window reading a book. Outside, the snow-covered landscape was white, while inside the room it was warm and cozy.

Richard stretched and felt very comfortable.

Debbie asked doubtfully, "I feel like you never sleep, and whenever I see you, you're always reading? What's so interesting about that stuff?"

Just then, the system notification appeared: "Ding! You are studying a magic notebook. Knowledge of [Soul and Desire]: Level 2, 49% → 50%."

7

We've finally broken through 50%!

"Get used to it." Richard closed his endocrinology textbook.

As long as you study, you can continuously see your knowledge increasing and you can visually see yourself becoming stronger, which will give you strong motivation.

If the world gave everyone a dashboard system, without any other functions, just allowing everyone to see their numerical changes, everyone's motivation to work hard would be greatly enhanced.

Debbie held out her hand: "Where's my gift?"

Richard pointed to the Christmas tree.

"Yay!" Debbie exclaimed excitedly upon seeing a huge box. "Thank you!"

She quickly opened it; inside was a toilet seat.

"Richard!" Debbie was furious.

Richard laughed heartily and pulled a small box from his pocket: "Merry Christmas! This is the real gift."

"Hmph!" Debbie rolled her eyes. "That's more like it."

She picked up the box, opened it, and saw a pair of large diamond stud earrings.

Artificial diamonds are worthless now, so Richard ordered two from the East in advance, which were only delivered a few days ago.

Debbie, quite satisfied, gazed at it for a while, then said contentedly, "It's so beautiful." Suddenly, she leaned close to Richard's ear and whispered, "Where do you want me to nail it?"

Richard squinted at her, glancing down at her. "Are you sure you want me to choose the location?"

Debbie shuddered: "Never mind, never mind."

She took off her earrings, put on studs, and looked at herself in the mirror with delight.

After a while, he took out a box and handed it to Richard: "Your Christmas present."

Richard opened it and saw that it was a ring.

Catherine walked over and said with displeasure, "Debbie, this is inappropriate."

"What's inappropriate about it?" Debbie glared at her, her voice firm but her tone somewhat timid.

Everyone understands the meaning of the ring.

Richard smiled and put the ring on the middle finger of his right hand.

Debbie was a little disappointed.

Catherine could only sigh and take out three boxes: "Merry Christmas!"

Debbie saw hers, opened the package, and excitedly hugged Catherine, giving her a kiss: "A new phone! I've wanted one for so long! Thank you, Mom!"

"I'm involved too?" Richard asked in surprise.

Catherine smiled.

Richard opened it and saw a mechanical watch, which looked quite expensive.

"Thank you." Richard put his watch on his wrist.

Debbie opened the last package, which was a gift for Shadow: a huge cat scratching post that could be stuck to the wall.

Debbie giggled and stuck the cat scratching post on the wall.

The shadow seemed to know it was its toy and happily jumped onto it, meowing.

It hopped and skipped clumsily, then fell off again.

Debbie simply laid out a yoga mat on the floor and played with the kitten.

After busying herself with the beauty salon for a while, Catherine started preparing lunch and dinner.

It's snowing outside, but it's warm inside.

Debbie and Catherine were dressed very lightly.

Richard felt the warmth of family.

The entrance to the cell laboratory.

Cole-Barnes stood in the snow, pleading, "Please let me in! I need to speak with Professor Shepard. There must be some misunderstanding here!"

Two burly guards, fully armed and holding rifles, looked at him with disdain.

One of the Black men said coldly, "Get lost! This isn't a place for you to run wild."

Cole-Barnes pulled out his old access card: "I used to be a researcher in the lab! Really! Look, I still have my access card!"

The Black security guard scoffed, "Every year, idiots like you get in with all sorts of excuses. If I let you in, I'd lose my job. Get lost!"

The black security guard brandished the gun in his hand.

Cole-Barnes was so frightened that he backed away repeatedly.

The equipment in the cell laboratory is extremely expensive, there are many confidential research projects, and security measures are very strict.

All security personnel were fully armed and wore bulletproof vests while on duty.

The two guards burst into laughter when they saw his timid appearance.

They certainly knew Cole-Barnes.

The security department in the cell laboratory has a high salary, and memorizing every license plate and every person's face is a required skill.

But so what?

He has now been fired!

Cole-Barnes clutched his backpack, which contained a sawed-off shotgun.

He has decided that if Christina disagrees, he will kill her!

But now we can't even get in the door.

The two guards looked very strong and skilled in combat.

Cole didn't dare to take out his gun at all; that would only turn him into a sieve in a second. He didn't even dare to look the two men in the eye.

The Black security guard yelled, "Get out of here!"

Cole-Barnes quickly took a few steps back, his hands trembling.

It was snowing heavily, and the weather was extremely cold; his fingers were red from the cold.

He gazed at the building in the park from afar, the building he hated so much and which tormented him day and night, but now he couldn't go in.

The building was still brightly lit, and even during the Christmas holidays, there were still people on duty in the laboratory.

Many experiments cannot be stopped and require 24-hour shifts.

However, he no longer belongs there.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Cole-Barnes' hands trembled. He had struggled from the bottom up, racking up huge debts and selling almost everything he owned and his dignity to get into Princeton. He then worked his way into the laboratory and became Christina's protégé.

I thought my life was destined for greatness, but now I've been inexplicably kicked out.

He had no idea what he had done wrong. Christina Shepard hadn't even said a word to him. That lackey Evelyn Shaw had just sent him a termination letter, paid him a penalty, and deleted all his access control information and data.

He hates this society, he hates this world.

He wanted to rush in and riddle Christina with bullets, but he didn't dare.

Those two security guards looked so strong and had such good weapons; there must be at least ten more security guards inside.

When he used to work here, he thought these people were brainless idiots, but now he realized that they were actually a huge threat.

At that moment, a car slowly drove up, passed through the gate, and entered the cell laboratory area.

I stopped briefly as I passed the gate.

The person inside poked their head out and asked, "What's that guy doing?"

Cole stood out clearly against the pristine white snow.

"Mr. Randall!" the black doorman quickly said with a smile, "It's probably one of the employees who was fired, but he's refusing to leave."

"Get him out of here right now." Randall was one of the senior leaders.

"Yes." The two guards, furious but not daring to argue, walked menacingly toward Cole with their guns in hand.

"Get lost, you stray dog!"

"Either you walk by yourself, or I'll call an ambulance to take you away!"

Cole dared not linger any longer and fled in a panic, driving his beat-up secondhand car back to his cheap apartment.

He sat in his cheap apartment, his phone screen blank.

He has been kicked out of the work group.

Throughout Christmas, there were no invitations, no party invitations, and not even my own parents contacted me.

What did I do wrong?

I sold my house just to go to college.

As long as I graduate from university and start earning money, I can still buy back the house, right?

He didn't know where his parents lived in this snowy weather.

But he knew he was about to die.

He scrolled through his contacts, hundreds of people, but not a single one had contacted him.

He was like a transparent person; nobody cared about him at all.

Cole was filled with resentment.

Why me?

Why is it always me?

He remembered that damned Dongda student, an exchange student from an enemy country, who just swaggered into the cell laboratory, only in his eleventh year of middle school.

On what grounds?

This world is unfair to me!

That damn yellow-skinned guy, everyone revolves around him.

And me?

I didn't receive a single invitation all Christmas.

From childhood to now, he has always seemed like a transparent person.

Either you're bullied or you're ignored; there's never a second situation.

Ding!

My phone suddenly beeped with a message.

Cole felt a surge of energy; after all, someone still cared about him.

He quickly picked up his phone, only to find it was a payment reminder for a student loan.

Once he leaves the lab, he will have no other income. If he can't repay his loan, he will fall into an abyss!

There was a pile of letters stuffed under the door, all of them demanding payment.

Without a job in the cell lab, he simply couldn't repay any of his loans.

Cole's mental state completely collapsed.

Economic pressure, psychological pressure, career failure, lack of attention—countless negative emotions converged.

He went into a frenzied state, his eyes bloodshot as he opened his phone's photo album and deleted his pictures one by one.

Nobody cares about me...

Nobody cares about me...

He touched the shotgun in his backpack; it was cold and real.

He had originally planned to kill Christina if she didn't take him in.

Unfortunately, even security guards couldn't get in.

He gulped down the remaining half-bottle of whiskey from last night, his head spinning.

Today is Christmas, a Christmas filled with laughter and joy, but I feel like a stray dog ​​that no one cares about, hiding in this damp corner!

This is not fair!

He looked at the photos one by one, then deleted them.

Many of the photos were taken when he was a child; he has hardly any photos from the last ten years.

As he was marking names, his fingers stopped.

This photo was taken when he was a child, taken by his grandmother at the church entrance. He was wearing a ridiculous church robe.

But his grandmother was the only one who was truly good to him.

He specifically saved this photo on his phone.

He stared at the photo for a moment, took another sip of wine, and deleted the photo, as if erasing his past.

After drinking half a bottle of whiskey, he took a handful of painkillers or some kind of "smart drug".

He didn't see it clearly, and he no longer cared.

This society has no reason to exist.

The heavy snow continues.

Cole felt he had to do something, or he would go crazy.

He ripped the cross pendant off his neck, slammed it to the ground, and then put the shotgun back into his bag.

He stepped heavily on the cross, slung his backpack over his shoulder, pushed open the door, and walked out.

Cole drove slowly toward Princeton University in the distance.

The dormitories are closed, the main canteen building is shut down, and many of the school's administrative buildings are also closed for the holiday.

However, there are still many people at the school.

Today, I want everyone to know that I am not invisible.

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