Good grief.
Locke wasn't exactly thrilled about this turn of events.
For an assassin, there is nothing worse than being hyper-focused on by a member of law enforcement.
Fortunately.
Locke wasn't your average assassin; he had a "cheat" on his side.
Two days ago, when Locke went to Gwen's house for dinner, George received a phone call. Upon hearing that another body with a "Sin Notice" had been found in an abandoned building in Brooklyn, he rushed out the door in a frenzy.
In George's words: "Even if I'm no longer a precinct captain, I will absolutely not allow any stain on my career. Even if I rise to Deputy Chief, I will catch this Sin Hunter."
Fine.
Locke had only one sentence for that: Good luck.
Regardless, he had no intention of turning himself in to George just to help him settle his internal demons. Therefore, he had to rely on a single solution—the belief that time eventually fades all things.
The NYPD had zero chance of setting a successful trap for him, and it was impossible for them to trace any of his information.
As time passed, no matter how much passion someone had, they would eventually grow weary.
George was no exception.
Furthermore...
Locke planned to put his assassination missions on hold for a while. As his academic progress at Midtown High increased, more and more assessments—similar to exams—were available to keep his Achievement Points growing steadily.
After a month of assassination work, Locke's private treasury now held a surplus of nearly two million dollars.
He could afford to take a break.
After all, in another week, the students participating in the chemistry competition in Maine at the beginning of December would likely need to spend their evenings in a new round of training.
...
The next day.
Locke drove his car and arrived beneath Gwen's apartment. A moment later, Gwen pulled open the passenger door and hopped in.
The used car Gwen had bought had broken down again.
So lately, Locke had been picking Gwen up every morning to head to school together.
Gwen thanked Locke: "Dad said the car will be fixed by tomorrow. If it has another problem, he says he'll haul that damn shop owner down to the station for a 'chat'."
Used cars were very cheap.
Typically, for anyone over sixteen, their first car in life was a used one.
After all, not everyone was as wealthy as Locke.
Despite being an orphan, whether it was his clothing or his living situation, he exuded the aura of a millionaire.
This was an unsolved mystery that arose among the Midtown High students after they learned Locke was an orphan. They might know he was an orphan, but they didn't know he had a family fund that distributed money to him every year.
Gwen was the only one who knew about that.
"By the way."
Locke thought for a moment and looked at Gwen in the passenger seat. "Can you be my date for the dance this weekend?"
Gwen: "..."
Yes.
A dance.
About half a month ago, rumors started spreading that the student council wanted to hold a dance, but whether it could happen depended on the school's approval.
Just yesterday, news of the approval broke. It was green-lit in the morning, and by the afternoon, members of the student council were already scurrying around the gymnasium to get everything ready.
As for the school administration, aside from supervision, they stayed completely out of it.
After all, this was a dance for the students, not for them.
Once it was confirmed that the dance was real and happening this Saturday, everyone naturally moved on to the next agenda item.
Finding a date.
This wasn't a difficult task for the school's "gods" and "goddesses," but for the students who were average-looking or, frankly, aesthetically challenged, it was a nightmare.
But regardless, participation was what mattered.
Locke certainly didn't belong to the latter category.
In terms of looks, he was top-tier, outclassing 99.9% of the people at Midtown High—leaving out that 0.1% was just him being humble.
In terms of temperament, he stood out like a crane among a flock of chickens.
Confirmation came yesterday morning. By the afternoon, when Locke went to open his locker in the hallway—good grief—he hadn't received a single invitation from a girl.
...There was no helping it.
The entire school had silently accepted one thing: that he and Gwen were a couple.
After all, lately, Locke had been driving Gwen to school every single morning, and in the afternoon, regardless of who got out of class first, they always left together.
It was already that blatant!
But...
In reality, Locke and Gwen actually weren't.
Locke felt there was no need to explain; the innocent remain innocent. Given his personality, he wasn't going to do something just because people were talking about it.
"I am destiny." As for the opinions of others, Locke didn't care one bit.
However, as for why Gwen didn't explain, Locke felt he understood a little, but not entirely.
But over the past month, Locke had been so addicted to grinding missions that he hadn't paid much attention to it.
And now?
Hearing Locke's invitation, Gwen turned her head. The sunlight from outside the window illuminated her profile, making her look stunning. A beautiful curve appeared at the corner of her mouth: "Are you asking me out, Mr. Locke Broughton?"
Locke glanced at Gwen and didn't hesitate: "Yes, I am inviting you, Miss Gwen Stacy. I would like to ask you to be my date for the dance."
To be honest, Locke felt that besides inviting Gwen, he really couldn't invite anyone else.
Furthermore.
Locke felt that if he really did invite someone else, Inspector George Stacy would probably put a bullet right through his forehead.
After all, for the past two weeks, George had been very enthusiastically taking Locke to a suburban firing range to practice shooting.
Moreover...
For high schoolers in the US, there were three cardinal sins:
1. Breaking up with a girlfriend over the phone.
2. Breaking up with a girlfriend on her birthday.
3. Breaking up with a girlfriend the week before a dance.
Locke felt that if he did that, he would suffer immediate "social death."
Besides, it was a bit late; there weren't many other female classmates left to invite anyway.
Kim?
With her boisterous personality, she had already gone to find her "god" to do a reverse-invitation.
Blonde Betty?
The broadcasting goddess who was as famous as Gwen; she had a boyfriend, the captain of the school's basketball team.
Mary Jane?
Forget it.
Let's put it this way.
The day the dance was confirmed, the first-tier campus stars had already formed their pairs.
It was like playing a video game.
In a school environment, the popular kids were like players in a pre-made team with voice chat.
As for the students with average grades, average looks, and average social lives—they were playing the same game, but they had to join a random party.
And even then...
They might not even find a slot, or they might get kicked from the party as soon as they joined.
***
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