Friends? Silo still understood what the concept of a friend meant.
A friend was a relationship where you could cooperate to kill people together and split the spoils afterward. Of course, it was also perfectly normal for them to turn against each other over an unfair division of the spoils.
Silo had seen too much of that.
The only reason he and his friends had never turned on each other was that the other party had died too soon—they simply hadn't had the chance to fall out yet.
Every relationship would only end in going separate ways and stabbing each other in the back. If it hadn't reached that point yet, it was only because death had come suddenly.
Silo could see through the box the neatly arranged cookies that looked quite appetizing. He had never received anything like this before, and no one would ever send him such meaningless, cheap pastries.
Snacks packed in a gift box and handed to someone else had only one purpose—to serve as a tool for poisoning.
Because no one would use cheap pastries as a bribe, unless they were stuffed with gold bars inside.
Silo stared at Tim for a moment, then looked back at the nicely packaged box of snacks, confirming: "So this is for me? Right?"
Tim nodded seriously: "Mm, you can do whatever you want with them."
"Then you can join me… forget it, since you gave them to me, they're all mine now."
He actually quite liked Timothy Drake. Humans were different from Kryptonians—they were fragile.
Anyway, even if it was poisoned, ordinary poison couldn't kill a Kryptonian.
Silo flashed a brilliant smile, happily opened the box, and under Tim's instinctive attempt to stop him, casually tossed a cookie into his mouth and chewed, chewed, chewed.
But after swallowing, Silo was a bit surprised. His eyes immediately lit up, and he said excitedly: "This is delicious!"
Tim retracted his hand speechlessly. "Your stomach probably hasn't recovered yet. Are you really sure it's fine to eat these directly?"
"It's fine, it's fine." Silo brushed it off while shoving cookie after cookie into his mouth under Tim's astonished gaze.
The box wasn't big, but it still held about twenty cookies. Tim watched helplessly as his pale-faced new deskmate, with a look of utter satisfaction, devoured all the cookies in just a few bites.
After finishing the last one, Silo's hand instinctively kept searching inside the box. When he found it empty, his expression crumpled as if the sky had fallen.
Tim found it somewhat amusing. Silo's reaction really was like a child guarding his food—the kind that was only three years old.
"Where did you buy these?" Silo reluctantly licked the cookie crumbs left on his fingertips, then turned to look at Tim.
"Then you probably can't buy them." Tim's expression turned mischievous.
Silo was horrified. So this was what that wicked duck Tim had been waiting for! He knew there had to be something wrong with this!
Tim proudly lifted his chin, smug and self-satisfied: "An elder of mine made them by hand!"
Silo narrowed his eyes seriously: "Then, can I kidnap your elder to cook for me, Drake?"
The mischievous Drake replied: "Then you'd probably get caught as an intruder first."
Silo seriously considered the possibility of kidnapping Tim's elder. The feasibility was quite high. He could kidnap the person and run straight to Antarctica, leaving them there to cook for him—no one would ever find out.
The only problem was… his strength probably couldn't support going back and forth for meals—Kryptonite. He still needed Kryptonite, not the synthetic kind that would give him a stomachache.
Technology wasn't the answer; he'd have to eat some natural ones. Silo thought gravely. He didn't want to eat additive-laced Kryptonite anymore.
The moment he thought of Kryptonite, he thought of Black Mask, who had given him the stomachache. And the moment he thought of Black Mask, Silo couldn't help but get angry.
He closed his eyes, suppressing the sudden heat rising in them.
Tim noticed Silo's expression change and leaned over worriedly: "What's wrong?"
He suspected Silo had eaten too fast, especially since the other had already had a stomachache the night before. He should have stopped him earlier. Tim felt a bit guilty.
Silo rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times. Tim noticed his new deskmate's eyes were a bit red underneath, looking rather pitiful. So Tim suggested: "Do you want to go to the infirmary and rest? I'll take you?"
If it really came down to it, taking him to the hospital wasn't a problem either. Tim didn't care about the cost of an ambulance or hospitalization.
Then he watched his listless deskmate suddenly perk up: "What? Skip class? Sure!"
Tim: "…"
Tim: "…"
Tim opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Stopped, then wanted to speak again.
In the end, the two of them happily left school together.
Once they stepped outside the school grounds, Silo raised his umbrella and said excitedly: "This is my first time skipping class—it feels so fun!"
The sun wasn't particularly strong today—to be precise, Gotham never had strong sun. But as long as there was sunlight, Silo would lie weakly on the ground like a mermaid stranded on shore without seawater but still with a tail, waiting for a prince to rescue him—though what eventually arrived wasn't necessarily a prince, but rather a whale-hunting crew.
Tim held his phone, looking at something unknown. He wasn't under an umbrella, only half of his shadow happened to overlap with the shadow cast by Silo's umbrella.
"We're not skipping class—we need to go to the hospital. I've already called a cab. You look terrible right now," Tim said calmly.
Silo shook his head decisively. He'd already managed to lure Tim out—how could he actually follow the other's plan and go to the hospital?
"No way. I've spent enough time in that kind of environment." Silo was a full half-head taller than Tim, but he wheedled with complete confidence and zero awkwardness, drawing out his words: "How about you just come with me this time? I haven't really gotten to explore Gotham yet."
The curly-haired boy thought for a moment, his canine tooth peeking out in a small point as he added with a smile: "For a friend's sake?"
Those blue eyes behind the glasses were filled with eager anticipation, then turned deliberately pitiful as he said: "I stayed in that environment for a long time—I don't really like it there. If something's actually wrong with my body, I'll tell you, Timmy? Little Tim?"
"You'll say yes, right—?"
Tim noticed that Silo loved using this phrasing—as if emphasizing, as if coaxing. He recalled the seat-swapping incident from yesterday; it seemed that once Silo used this sentence structure, things would shift in the direction he wanted.
That was the kind of sentence only someone who already knew the answer from being loved could speak—filled with eager expectation and natural, entitled willfulness. Just like when he faced Alfred.
Alfred never let him down.
He thought he could somewhat understand why his previous deskmate had buckled and desperately agreed to swap seats. Those blue eyes were simply too easy to soften one's heart.
Probably because Silo's external image in his mind had already shifted toward that of a frail, sickly little thing, Tim never connected it to what it truly was—the natural entitlement of a victor under tyranny. He sighed helplessly: "Fine, but if anything feels off, we're going to the hospital."
"Yay!" Silo cheered, and at Tim's reminder, scrambled to grab the umbrella he'd nearly thrown away.
"How are you even less careful than me?" Tim helped straighten the black umbrella, teasing.
"Because I don't really go out much," Silo replied. "And even when I do, I wait until dark, so I rarely use an umbrella."
Having a Kryptonian carry an umbrella outside was way too weird, Silo thought to himself. He could fly, after all—if it weren't for having to pretend to be an ordinary person because his powers were too weakened right now, he wouldn't bother with all this trouble.
This place was similar to his home planet—looked like it showed Kryptonians some respect, but if he actually revealed how weak he was, he'd be stuffed into a Blue Kryptonite cell in the next second. He drew power from green Kryptonite, but Blue Kryptonite would weaken him—and kill him.
Plenty of people wanted to study Kryptonians. The only reason no one dared to do so openly was simply because they couldn't win a fight. Oh—even so, didn't Lex still manage to figure it out?
Silo's thoughts wandered too far, but no matter how much he thought, not a single second of reality passed. He naturally switched topics: "I want to go to the arcade! And a bar!"
"Minors can't drink." Tim recalled a decent, safe arcade nearby, then grabbed this husky that wanted to bolt everywhere and stuffed him into the cab he'd just called: "Since we're not going to the hospital, from now on, we follow my plan."
Silo tilted his head up and blinked, looking at Tim who was still standing outside the car. Unexpectedly, a rare display of obedience appeared on him. The curly-haired teen stared at Tim, then quickly smiled: "Alright, I'll listen to you."
Tim smiled too, doing something he'd wanted to do for a long time. He patted Silo's head with its soft, silky shoulder-length curls.
Tim was a very organized person—being with him felt like you could completely switch off your own brain.
The arcade had nothing much beyond some cabinets, shooting games, dance machines, and the like—all of which tested one's reaction speed. Tim noticed that Silo's movements were quite clumsy at first, but within moments he'd get the hang of it. He had real talent for this.
Tim played a couple of rounds himself before stopping, and afterward just helped exchange tokens on the side, following Silo as he darted around to play every single game.
"Flawless Victory!"
As Silo refreshed the leaderboards for every game, leaving only one final game remaining, he had already drawn a large crowd around him. The system notification sound signaling success, accompanied by a heavy metal guitar solo, prompted cheers from everyone, with faint sounds of disbelief stirring in the distance. All of this made Silo especially proud.
He was naturally the center of everyone's attention, suited to standing in the spotlight. Though his features were ordinary, he still possessed a fatal allure for ordinary people.
However, once all the games were cleared, Silo lost interest. He pushed through the crowd, heading straight for Tim, and asked the question that concerned him, "Where do we go next?"
"Not going to enjoy your victory a little longer?" Tim chuckled softly.
"But I've already cleared everything," Silo replied nonchalantly, circling around Tim, curious about what new amusement he could bring. He never hesitated to speak his mind: "No matter how fun a game is, once you clear it, doesn't that mean it's over?"
"So where are we going to play next? Tim? Timmy! Little Ti—"
Silo asked with anticipation.