Asperger's Syndrome is a social disorder similar to autism, often seen in infants and young children.

This type of disorder does not usually affect intelligence, only social interaction and communication abilities.

Hogan had such a social disorder.

Harper tried to imitate some of his sister's actions and expressions.

When their parents were alive, they were busy with company affairs. Most of the time, the sister was taken care of by him and the housekeeper.

He was also very clear about some of Hogan's small actions.

He just didn't know if he could deceive the security bureau personnel across from him.

The two people across exchanged a few words, and the young, clean-looking soldier stood up and walked into the interrogation room.

He came to Harper's side, twisted a switch, and lowered the brightness of the interrogation lamp.

"Jerome, bear with it if it hurts. We'll take you to the hospital as soon as the questioning is over."

Harper's heart skipped a beat. Was it someone he knew?

He tried hard to control his facial expressions, not to look at the young soldier, and did not respond to his words.

Communication impairment is also one of the typical manifestations of Asperger's Syndrome.

The young soldier was not angry either. After doing these, he returned to the surveillance room next door.

"Are you ready to answer the questions?"

The corporal was getting impatient.

Damn, it seems like they won't get any useful information this time.

The boy seemed to be looking at something with great interest.

Following his gaze, the corporal saw that for some reason, water was seeping from the ceiling of the interrogation room.

Drip by drip, very regular.

The boy was watching very intently.

The private laughed awkwardly at him, "Sir, he—"

He pointed to his head, "Something's not right here."

This interrogation can't go on!

Damn it, they ran fifteen kilometers for nothing!

The corporal lit another cigarette, and the private lit it for him.

He took a deep breath, and the smoke swirled, weaving a blue net under the pale light.

"Shh...you say..."

The private hurriedly leaned in.

"Do you say that driving a hover car at low altitude in a crowded city and causing injury—causing serious injury to a minor, is that the responsibility of the security bureau?"

The private's eyes widened, "Of course! Who says it's not? Who dares to say it's not?!"

"Hey, don't make us out to be hooligans—we're here to solve problems for the citizens."

"Of course!"

"Go check out the background of that idiot who hit the person."

"Sir, there's no need to check, I watched every blade of grass and tree grow in Sunset Town!"

The private said righteously, "That skinny guy has no background, he's from Bennett Company—"

"Are you stupid?! People from the company are not considered without a background?!"

The corporal was startled, "Do you think I'm a colonel or a major?!"

"Sir, it's okay. He's a temporary worker at Bennett Company, and the hover car isn't his, he was running errands for his boss, delivering it for maintenance."

"Oh?"

"As a result, this idiot, in order to show off, specifically drove it into his own yard. The next day when he went out, he knocked this kid down. Now his boss probably wants to kill him."

The corporal took a puff of his cigarette, and the corners of his flat mouth gradually curled up, "So that's what happened..."

"That idiot started with a small business, spent two hundred thousand to buy a temporary worker's position in the company, and then this happened."

"Two hundred thousand?"

The corporal was getting a bit restless.

Shouldn't they hurry?

If he gave all two hundred thousand, and if his boss catches this idiot and makes him pay for the car repair, what can they get?

"Cough, cough."

He coughed twice, glancing at the interrogation form in his hand, "But this form..."

"I'll write it, sir."

The private hurriedly took it, "I'll write it neatly with my right hand, and then write it for myself with my left!"

"Thank you."

The corporal, with a pretentious air, handed the paper form to him.

"If it weren't for the upper echelons insisting on using the paper version, it would be so much easier to have AI generate it in a second."

"Don't worry, I'll use AI, ensuring it's undetectable."

The corporal took one last look at the boy in the interrogation room, smiling broadly, "Thankfully, he's a minor."

Then the smile faded a lot, "Unfortunately, he's just a second-class citizen."

He grumbled, got up, and walked out.

The private quickly packed up his things, glanced at Jerome, and followed.

It wasn't until the heavy door of the surveillance room closed that Harper slowly exhaled.

At this point, his clothes were soaked with sweat.

Half because of the pain, half because of the tension.

To be honest, aside from imitating Hogan, he couldn't do anything else.

If the two people outside insisted on not believing him and asked him more questions, Harper wouldn't be able to hide it.

But fortunately...

The first crisis seemed to have passed.

As his body relaxed, the physical pain became even more apparent.

He gradually began to gasp for breath, like a drowning person, tightly gripping the crossbar on the side of the chair, and gave it a heavy push.

"Clang!"

...

The corporal and the private walked out of the surveillance room, rushing out.

In the lobby of the Sunset Town Police Department, the private pointed out a direction to the corporal.

"Sir, that's the father of the child."

A grubby middle-aged man sat on the bench in the lobby.

He was wearing an old, oil-stained work coat, his hair was messy, and his face was covered with scruffy beard.

He looked dull, as if he hadn't spoken for many years.

He didn't seem much different from the poor people who frequented the police department for trivial matters.

"Tsk, he looks like a poor worker."

The corporal sneered.

"That one, is the perpetrator of the car accident."

A fat man in a suit stood out of place at the entrance of the police department, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a delicate handkerchief.

Unlike most people here, he had meticulously styled hair, wore almost new brown leather shoes, and occasionally squatted down to wipe the surface of his shoes with his sweat-soaked handkerchief—then wiped his forehead again.

...He seemed a bit off.

The fat man was anxiously waiting.

He had received a furious call from his boss, ordering him to handle this accident alone.

"When you come back, my car must be spotless! There can't be even a single dent! Otherwise, you're fired—what two hundred thousand! Are you extorting me?! How dare you?!"

The fat man wiped the sweat from his forehead again.

At this moment, he saw the two security bureau soldiers coming out.

Before he had a chance to approach them, he heard the leading corporal tighten his belt and give a deep order:

"Attention, everyone!"

"Immediately arrest this lunatic who drove at low altitude in a crowded area, causing serious injury to a minor!"

The fat man hadn't reacted yet.

The private immediately pounced on him, stepping on his shiny leather shoes, and punched him!

The Sunset Town Police Department descended into chaos.

In this absurd and chaotic situation, Jefferson sat emotionlessly and quietly on the bench.

A nurse ran out of the room, tapped Jefferson on the shoulder.

"Uncle Ji! Jerome needs to be transferred to the Second Citizen Hospital immediately!"

Jefferson lifted his head, "Ah. He won't be shot, will he?"

"No, we've received instructions that he can be taken to the hospital immediately—his condition is not good."

The emotionless middle-aged man nodded, "Well, that's good."

"…Huh?"

"Then you guys take him to the hospital, I'm going home."

"Uncle Ji?"

"Is there anything else?"

"I mean, your son needs to be hospitalized, his condition is very bad."

"I understand, can the hospital cure him?"

"We're not sure, his condition is very bad right now."

"I see."

Jefferson stood up and put on a soft hat.

"Then I'll go first."

His indifference left the nurse stunned.

"...That's strange."

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