Lynn had kept quite a few things from Harry, but on certain matters, he hadn't lied.
He really had left the orphanage to wander the streets for several years, and he really had been kidnapped and coerced. However, by that time, he had already been practicing his superpowers for over a year. He had almost completely mastered telekinesis, so saving himself had not been an issue.
The "Superpower Training Box" allowed a person to learn and master three different abilities: telekinesis, clairvoyance, and teleportation. If one focused on a single discipline, it took about a year to master it. Compared to teleportation, telekinesis was simply more practical for Lynn at the time.
As for his claim about enjoying helping others, that was also true.
Unlike other transmigrators from Earth, Lynn didn't have a "System." His helpfulness was born of genuine passion. However, what baffled him was that even when he successfully helped others, he rarely saw a happy smile on their faces.
In fact, those he helped would often hurl abuse at him, or even punch and kick him.
This had struck a heavy blow to Lynn's morale for a time. However, his resolve wasn't so easily shaken; he simply learned from those experiences and became much more cautious when offering assistance.
Although he lacked a System, Lynn wasn't distressed. He had something a hundred times more useful than a System.
The year the orphanage closed down, the director had returned the personal items the children had arrived with. What Lynn received was the "swaddling cloth" that had wrapped his tiny body years ago—a half-moon-shaped pocket that looked somewhat old and oddly shaped.
To others, it appeared to be a decent quality cloth pocket. But in Lynn's hands, this cloth pocket could produce a multitude of bizarre and wonderful things.
For example, the Superpower Training Box he used to learn his abilities, and that cookie he had given to Harry.
These were magical tools possessing extraordinary power. The only downside was that these items were almost always single-use, or even incomplete. The cookie, for instance, should have been a full box, but when Lynn got his hands on it, only a single piece remained.
This pocket—or more accurately, this magical treasure known as the Four-Dimensional Space Pocket—contained an immensely vast space. Every month, a few magical items would suddenly appear inside it, ranging from one to three in number. They were almost always second-hand goods with obvious signs of wear and tear. If he didn't "loot" them before the next refresh, the items would disappear.
In the three years since acquiring the pocket, Lynn had obtained a total of 47 magical items. The most common among them was the "Bamboo Copter," a device one could place on their head to gain the ability to fly. However, only one of these Bamboo Copters was barely close to factory-new, offering nearly eight hours of flight time. The rest were battle-worn rejects that lasted only three or four hours, or even just one or two.
Yes, it was that Four-Dimensional Pocket from Doraemon, but it was more like the pocket-sized version of a four-dimensional trash can. The pocket wasn't connected to the Future Department Store; even if Lynn used his powers to get money, there was no channel to spend it here.
As for why he didn't get money to buy himself a house... it was simply because Lynn was currently undocumented. He had no social security number, and documents like his birth certificate were stuck at the orphanage. The police in England weren't exactly public servants of the people; as an outsider with no legal identity, he wouldn't be well-received.
However, wandering the streets didn't make him uncomfortable. After finding an uninhabited empty house, Lynn used a "Blink" to teleport inside. He then unzipped his backpack and pulled out a hard-shelled tent. It was light coffee-colored, and although old, it was very clean. This item, which looked like a mere single-person tent, was truly named the "Universal Tent."
Although some of its functions were damaged, as a suitable residence, it was still quite impressive.
Opening the transparent glass entry hatch and stepping inside revealed a spacious area of about thirty square meters. With the press of a button, the tent could change its interior layout: living room, bedroom, bathroom, and even a fully transparent panoramic mode. It also possessed environmental camouflage capabilities; unless someone physically bumped into it, the tent was invisible to the naked eye.
The only regret was that the tent's ordering function was broken. Originally, one only had to say what they wanted to eat, and the tent would debit the cost from the void and deliver the food. Or perhaps the tent just didn't accept British Pounds, or maybe it was because Lynn didn't have a registered "home" address.
But food was not an issue. He also had a "Gourmet Tablecloth"—described as "99% new, used by a girl." Aside from needing a patch or two, this tablecloth could provide various foods for free. However, likely due to overuse, the food summoned by the tablecloth was random. Fortunately, it was all edible, with a cooldown period of over an hour between uses.
"Let's see what's for dinner tonight!"
This blind-box experience was always quite a thrill for Lynn.
"Old Beijing Fried Noodles, Braised Chicken Wings, Braised Pork Ribs, Jellyfish Salad!"
Although he shouted the names of the dishes, whether the tablecloth listened was another matter entirely. The dishes were random, though the quantity corresponded to his request.
Under Lynn's wide-eyed anticipation, the tablecloth rapidly "grew" four dishes.
"Authentic Indian-style Banana Leaf Rice? Is this stuff even fit for human consumption?"
Lynn's face went dark the moment he saw the first dish. He had once fearlessly tasted a mouthful of authentic Indian curry, only to suffer diarrhea for two whole days, vomiting and purging until he nearly checked out of existence.
Fortunately, the subsequent three dishes were up to standard: a steak roughly medium-well, a bowl of plain noodle soup, and a chicken vegetable salad exploding with calories from way too much dressing.
Putting aside the issue of food processing, everything from the Gourmet Tablecloth was edible. But that magical substance known as Indian curry... really, only the iron stomachs of the Indian people could endure it.
While Lynn was enjoying his free dinner, Harry, harboring a heart full of anxiety, pushed open the door to Number 4, Privet Drive.
Aunt Petunia had just finished making dinner. Seeing Harry as she walked out of the kitchen, she glanced at him, gave a soft hmph through her nose, and walked to the dining table with a stony face.
Sitting at the corner of the table, Harry was somewhat cautious. The food before him wasn't scarce; although it couldn't compare to the portions given to Uncle Vernon and his cousin Dudley, it was enough to make him eighty percent full, roughly the same amount Aunt Petunia had herself.
The atmosphere at the table was no different from usual. Dudley stuffed his face while watching television, his table manners atrocious, while Aunt Petunia occasionally reached out with a napkin to wipe his mouth. Uncle Vernon didn't say a word, his face wearing a trace of post-work fatigue.
After the silent dinner ended, Harry cleared the dishes and went to the kitchen to wash up as usual. Once he had cleaned the kitchen and taken off his apron, he looked at the three people in the living room. The atmosphere was familiar, yet he still couldn't adapt to it.
"By the way, boy, you!"
Uncle Vernon suddenly put down his newspaper and spoke.
"What is it?" Harry took a deep breath and took two steps forward.
"I'm telling you, you'll be going to Stonewall High for school later..."
"Stone~ wall~" Dudley drawled the name upon hearing it, then burst into loud laughter. clearly, he thought the school's name was hilarious, though Harry didn't know what was so funny about it.
"I understand..."
Harry nodded silently after glancing at Uncle Vernon. He knew he didn't have much of a choice, but at least he could still go to school. Although Stonewall High wasn't a very good school, it wasn't without its merits.
This comprehensive school was essentially a mix of a standard secondary school and a vocational school. After graduating with his GCSEs, if his grades were decent, he could continue with two years of A-Level courses and then enter a university. Or, he could take a vocational preparatory course and smoothly transfer to a vocational college. The income for skilled technical workers wasn't low; one-third of 16-year-old graduates in the UK chose to study at vocational colleges.
If his grades were truly terrible, he could go straight into employment upon graduation—for instance, watching the warehouse at Uncle Vernon's drill company. If he had the capability, he could also apply to join the Army Cadets. Compared to Smeltings Academy, where Dudley was going, Stonewall High offered a broader range of choices. Harry's grades at school weren't great, so this path wasn't exactly a trap; in fact, the cost-performance ratio was quite high.
"Good, as long as you know."
Uncle Vernon pulled his newspaper back up, speaking no further to Harry. The incident with the boa constrictor had indeed left a psychological shadow on them.
"I'm going to take a shower."
Harry whispered a sentence, picked up his change of clothes, and walked toward the bathroom.
After closing the door, Harry leaned against the cold ceramic tiles of the bathroom wall. He carefully fished the cookie out of his pocket and stared at it for a long time.
Ever since receiving this cookie, Harry had been in a constant state of internal conflict. On one hand, he worried about the price of eating it; on the other, he hoped this cookie could bring him some kind of change.
On one end of opportunity lay risk, and this risk was unknown.
"Maybe I don't have to eat it? I'll be going away to school in September. I'll only come back for holidays. I can go a long time without seeing them, living my own life..."
"I just need to survive these last two months..."
Harry swallowed hard, constantly making excuses to himself to reject this unknown risk.
But looking in the mirror at his thin, frail self, draped in loose, ill-fitting old clothes...
Harry's gaze sank, fixing dead on the cookie in his palm.
"If only my mum and dad were still here... how good that would be."
Harry let out a long sigh, feeling a sense of weakness akin to collapse. Then he closed his eyes, opened his mouth, stuffed the cookie inside in one go, and chewed vigorously.
It was no different from a normal cookie. Crisp and crunchy, with the scent of wheat flour and a faint salty taste. There were no other strange flavors. After swallowing hard a few times to get the whole cookie down, none of the scenarios Harry had imagined occurred.
It was as if... it was just an ordinary cookie.
Suddenly, a trace of disappointment rose in Harry's heart. He felt he must have been tricked. After all, it was just a plain, unremarkable cookie. That was all.
He took off his shirt and trousers, turned on the showerhead, placed his glasses to the side, and let the perfectly warm water wash over his body.
But just as he was scrubbing his body, Harry, feeling a subtle and peculiar sensation on his chest, suddenly went rigid. He frantically turned off the tap, reached up to wipe the water from his face, and forced his eyes open.
His trembling hand groped downwards.
A scream filled with terror and despair echoed shrilly within the bathroom.