Marvel: You Call This A Sorcerer?

New York Police Department Headquarters, inside the interrogation room.

Ronan sat inside the interrogation room, observing his surroundings out of sheer boredom.

Oh, no—according to those officers, this wasn't called an interrogation room; it was called an inquiry room.

Although the names weren't much different, in reality, the difference was like night and day.

But to Ronan, the name change didn't matter. It all felt the same to him anyway.

After a while, a middle-aged man with blonde hair walked in from outside.

He held a cup of coffee in his hand.

He gently placed the coffee in front of Ronan, then sat down across from him.

"Hello, Ronan, I'm George Stacy."

"Commissioner of the New York Police Department and also Gwen's father."

George Stacy looked at the boy in front of him without any expression. He clearly remembered that it was this boy who had sent his daughter home last night.

When he asked his daughter what she'd been doing, she only said she'd had dinner with a friend.

Clearly, Ronan was that "friend."

"Hello, Mr. Stacy, nice to meet you," Ronan smiled. It's always good to meet a friend's father.

Not as good as meeting the mother of a friend, but it did give him a chance to gather some information in advance.

"Just call me George."

"Actually, I'm not here to question you."

"Because it's not the NYPD that wants to question you this time, but rather another, more mysterious agency."

George Stacy gave Ronan a useful piece of information.

Although Ronan had been mentally prepared, he still smiled as he received the well-intentioned reminder.

"A mysterious agency?"

"Does it have to do with what happened last night?"

Ronan didn't seem nervous at all.

Some people believe that when they hear about a mysterious agency, they should act a little flustered.

But that wasn't the case for Ronan.

In his story, he was someone who didn't know anything and had slept comfortably all night.

So, the first thing he had to express was confusion.

Why would some mysterious agency be coming for him?

Though he didn't know if anyone from S.H.I.E.L.D. was watching him at the moment, he was sure there was surveillance here.

Even if having surveillance in an inquiry room was considered an infringement on rights.

But if the person being questioned wasn't informed, then officially, there wasn't any.

Unless you found the recording.

"You don't seem nervous at all?" George Stacy looked at Ronan with a bit of surprise.

A sixteen or seventeen-year-old kid coming to a police station and not showing an ounce of nervousness—it was indeed rare.

Even people who had never committed a crime should, instinctively, show a trace of nervousness.

"No, I was nervous, actually."

"But I thought it over in the police car—this whole thing has nothing to do with me, so I just have to tell the truth."

"So, being nervous wouldn't be of much use."

Ronan smiled and told the most genuine version of his thoughts.

Pretend it has nothing to do with him.

Surely, they weren't going to use a lie detector or anything, right?

But even if they tried, Ronan wouldn't let them—they'd be violating human rights.

In the U.S., "human rights" aren't words to be taken lightly.

Knock, knock, knock.

Just then, there was a knock at the door.

The door to the inquiry room opened, and two people—one man, one woman, both in suits—walked in.

Phil Coulson.

Melinda May.

Seeing those familiar faces, Ronan sighed inwardly.

As expected, Nick Fury, that baldie, wouldn't let this go.

What surprised him, though, was that Fury had sent his best agents, including Phil Coulson.

Wasn't Coulson supposed to have died during the Battle of New York?

Showing up like this—was that really a good idea?

"Commissioner Stacy, we're taking over from here," Phil Coulson said with a smile, asserting authority.

Although S.H.I.E.L.D. often got criticized by world powers, they still had considerable influence over departments like these.

George Stacy glanced at Phil Coulson, then looked at Ronan, finally standing up from his chair.

As he walked past Coulson, he paused.

"This is my daughter's boyfriend. I hope you won't do anything extreme."

"Ronan, if they ask any unrelated questions, you can call me—I'll be right outside."

George Stacy nodded at Ronan before confidently leaving the room.

Wait, what?!

Bro—no, Uncle—wait a second!

Since when did I become your daughter's boyfriend?

I swear we're innocent—I haven't even held her hand!

And now you're my father-in-law? Isn't that unfair?

No!

Ronan wanted to explain, but he hadn't expected George Stacy to leave so quickly!

Now Ronan finally understood why he felt that chilling sensation on his back the night he left Gwen Stacy's house.

He'd initially thought it was some unsavory hellish demon watching him.

But, turns out it was his "father-in-law's" eyes.

How unjust!

Phil Coulson and Melinda May exchanged glances, both seeing the words "not easy to deal with" in each other's eyes.

The guy was the NYPD commissioner, after all.

No matter how powerful S.H.I.E.L.D. was, they were still a secretive organization.

Besides, different agencies answered to different superiors, and if any issues arose, their future operations could become very difficult.

They had to tread carefully.

"Alright, kid, since Commissioner Stacy is your girlfriend's father, let's have a proper chat."

Phil Coulson and Melinda May both sat across from Ronan.

Ronan sighed.

Since when did he become someone's son-in-law?

"Alright, go ahead—what do you want to know?"

"If it's about last night, I can tell you I don't know anything."

Ronan's face showed a trace of helplessness.

As if he'd been asked the same question countless times and was tired of answering.

When it came to acting, Ronan was a professional!

"Are you sure you know nothing?" Phil Coulson asked again.

"Really, I was sleeping at home all night—I didn't even have any dreams."

"If my classmate hadn't shown me that video today, I wouldn't even know about what happened."

Ronan looked at Coulson and shrugged, his face full of helplessness.

With both hands spread out...

"You didn't follow the news?" Melinda May pressed.

"I woke up late today—I was riding my bike while eating breakfast on the way to school."

"So, no, I didn't keep up with the news."

Ronan shook his head, completely playing clueless.

Once he decided he knew nothing, that was it—he knew nothing.

Nothing could change that.

"Then why were you the one involved?" Melinda May asked.

As soon as she said that, Ronan gave her a very strange look.

The kind of look that made Melinda feel deeply uncomfortable.

It was as if he were staring at an idiot.

"Why was I involved?"

"Why are you asking me that? Shouldn't that be something you all need to figure out?"

Ronan's classic sarcastic tone emerged.

What he said left Melinda speechless.

Because Ronan was right.

But Ronan didn't give them a chance to respond.

"As a so-called mysterious agency, you're asking me about this, so you must be the ones in charge."

"Bottom line is, you should catch the culprit and give me an explanation."

"Though I don't pay taxes directly, every single thing I buy has sales tax for the country."

"So I count as half a taxpayer, right?"

"And as a taxpayer, being messed with like this, and instead of investigating the culprit, you come to ask me why?"

"Don't you think it's ridiculous?"

"I've already been asked this question by my classmates today, and I don't even know how to answer."

"And their eyes—they look at me like I'm some sort of weirdo."

"Do you think I'd be happy about that?"

Suddenly, Ronan acted like a firecracker, exploding out of nowhere.

He was just like a teenager, full of emotions.

A high-schooler being bombarded with questions while being clueless.

This outburst of emotion was clearly something Coulson had anticipated.

"Calm down, Ronan. We understand how you feel, and that's why we're here to handle it."

"Mel didn't mean anything wrong by that, and if there was, I apologize on her behalf."

Coulson tried to comfort Ronan, though his face barely showed any change.

This too was within his calculations.

In fact, they had calculated that Ronan might react this way.

Hearing Coulson's words, Ronan's anger seemed to subside a bit.

He sat back, but his expression wasn't as friendly as before.

An unhappy teenager.

Yeah, Ronan would give himself a 9/10 for this performance.

"From the video, we saw that this involved Tony Stark as well, since he saved you."

"And based on our investigation, you spoke to Tony Stark that afternoon."

"Can you tell us what you talked about?"

Phil Coulson finally got to the main point.

Everything before had been groundwork, even the intentional provocation.

It was all to get Ronan to let down his guard and lose his rationality.

Their goal was to find out exactly what Ronan and Tony Stark had talked about.

"Are you interrogating me?"

"Do I have to answer?"

What Coulson didn't expect was for Ronan to throw a question back at him.

"Uh..."

"We're not interrogating you, just routine questioning."

"We're not forcing you to disclose what you talked about, but for the sake of the investigation, we'd suggest you do."

Coulson used some diplomatic phrasing.

He couldn't say "yes" because then Ronan might call a lawyer, and they'd be in for a lawsuit.

A lawsuit was manageable—after all, the FBI usually took the heat for them.

What worried him was that the court might issue an order forbidding them from approaching Ronan.

And then their hope of getting information from him would be completely dashed.

"Alright then, give me $100,000."

"No, $80,000, and I'll tell you."

Ronan stretched out his right hand.

????

Coulson and Melinda were full of question marks.

We're trying to help you solve a case, and you're asking us for money—what's the reasoning here?

Obviously, they hadn't expected things to go in this direction.

"You shouldn't be so surprised. It's perfectly reasonable for me to ask for payment."

"Mr. Tony Stark bought that information from me for $100,000."

"Considering you'd be the second group buying it, I'm only asking for $80,000. That's pretty reasonable, right?"

Ronan glanced at them, smiling.

He looked like a sly fox that had successfully tricked someone.

This slight smirk was perfectly executed.

"Uh..."

Phil Coulson's face twisted awkwardly.

He hadn't expected this extra layer to the situation.

$80,000 wasn't a lot of money—he could easily pay it.

But giving it felt a little humiliating.

When had S.H.I.E.L.D. ever faced such humiliation?

But just as Coulson was debating it, something happened that caught him off guard.

"Forget it. Even if you paid now, I wouldn't sell it to you."

Ronan suddenly changed his mind.

"Why?"

"Wouldn't you want the money?"

Melinda furrowed her brow, not understanding this high school kid at all.

She felt something was off.

Since when did S.H.I.E.L.D. agents start dancing to someone else's tune?

"It's not that I don't want the money."

"It's just that Mr. Tony Stark bought exclusive rights to the information for $100,000."

"Even though I love money, I'm a trustworthy American citizen with principles."

"Since he bought exclusive rights, I can't sell it to someone else."

"If you want to know, why not ask Mr. Stark himself?"

"Maybe he'll share more information with you."

Ronan shrugged as if there was nothing he could do.

Coulson's jaw dropped. Right now, he only felt two words:

Regret.

Extreme regret.

Why hadn't he just agreed earlier?

Now, they were in this predicament.

If we could get the answer from Stark, why would we even come to you?

$80,000!

And you say you have principles?

Facing Ronan's seemingly noble and honest persona, Coulson felt he had no leverage.

He had to change tactics and emphasize the danger of the situation.

"Ronan, you need to understand how dangerous this is."

"The first time he abducted you in your sleep without waking you—there could be a second time."

"Tony Stark saved you once, but what about the next time?"

Coulson could only try reasoning with him.

However, Ronan's expression grew even stranger.

"So, if I tell you, you can guarantee I won't be attacked again, right?"

"If so, let's sign a contract that makes you fully responsible if anything happens."

"Can you do that?"

Ronan fired back.

This swift counter left the two agents speechless.

Who would dare make such a promise?

If anything happened, they'd be responsible for coercing personal information and liable for Ronan's life.

Who would take that risk?

"More importantly, if he approached me once without being noticed, he can surely do it again."

"If he really wants to kill me, there's no way I'd still be alive."

"If he'd intended it last night, I'd already be dead."

Ronan sighed, as if he understood something.

Seeing him like this, Coulson frowned.

"You seem to know who he is?" Coulson asked.

"Of course. I thought it was just a legend, but it doesn't seem that simple."

"Seems like the legend is true."

"If the legend's true, it means I leaked their secret."

"If they want me dead, no one—not even Tony Stark—could stop it."

"So I assume Tony Stark must have made some deal with them to spare my life."

"Otherwise, you wouldn't see me here now."

Calmly, Ronan tossed out another bait.

"They?"

Clearly, Coulson had been lured by the bait.

Looking at Ronan, it seemed like he knew something but wasn't saying.

Coulson felt like a thousand ants were crawling on his body.

Ugh, it was unbearable!

"Are you sure you're not going to tell us what happened?"

Coulson took a deep breath.

Ronan simply shook his head.

"Sorry, but I can only tell you one thing."

"You can listen or not. It's up to you."

Finally, Ronan had his big reveal ready.

"Go ahead."

The two agents' eyes immediately lit up.

"My conversation with Tony Stark was about only one thing."

"He wanted to find the so-called sorcerers, and I happened to know something about them."

"As for what that is…"

"There's only one thing I can share."

Ronan smiled at the two agents listening intently.

"I gave Tony Stark an honored name."

"Using that honored name, he can summon a very powerful sorcerer."

"As for who the sorcerer is, or what the honored name is…"

"The former—I don't know. The latter—well, that's confidential, so I can't tell you."

"If you want more information, why not ask Tony Stark?"

"Maybe he'll share more with you… maybe?"

Take the bait.

Come on, little fish.