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Henry gave an awkward expression and said bluntly, "The producer fired me—wanted to avoid any further conflict between us."

Tony asked directly, "So… do you want me to help get your job back? Or maybe introduce you to something else? And just so we're clear, I'm not doing this because I feel obligated."

"I know. And no need," Henry shook his head. "This was just everyone being cautious and making decisions for themselves. Even if you hadn't said anything, they'd still have made the same call after tonight.

"Same logic applies here—because I helped you, as long as you don't go out of your way to blacklist me, people will naturally figure out what to do. Even if they don't hand me new opportunities, at least they won't actively block me. That's all I need."

"That's all?" Tony looked puzzled. "That's the only reason you helped me?"

Henry scoffed. "Come on, Mr. Stark—use that genius brain of yours. Maybe you couldn't tell at first, but looking back now—were we ever actually in danger?

"Their target was that fat bastard, Josh Hilton. As long as everyone else complied and didn't resist, nobody was ever going to get hurt.

"You could say you acted to save people, but in the end, they still got to their target. You didn't save the guy, did you?

"So your 'intervention' just ended up with you shooting a few people—some of whom might've died. That's what you wanted? Tired of shooting inanimate targets and couldn't pass up the chance to try live ones?"

He went on, "So yeah—helping you wasn't some noble act. It was low-risk from the start. All that 'life-threatening' danger you felt was self-inflicted. You brought it on yourself.

"And I didn't help you because I thought you could get me my job back. My goal became making sure you didn't get yourself killed—because if you had gotten shot tonight, the fallout would've been massive."

Tony bristled. "How could anyone know that in advance? In the beginning, you couldn't guarantee those gunmen wouldn't hurt bystanders, right?"

Henry nodded honestly.

Tony continued, "Then someone had to step up—couldn't just let the bad guys do whatever they wanted. So why shouldn't that someone be me? And as for the fallout… come on, do I even have that much influence?"

"Tch. Classic Stark heir," Henry muttered.

It was like people born on Earth taking oxygen for granted—never realizing how precious it was until it was gone. Talking to this guy about privilege felt just as pointless.

The same way, arguing with this trust-fund kid just made Henry painfully aware of his own poverty—not just in money, but in every possible aspect.

Once Henry realized that, he lost interest in continuing the conversation. Yep, best to stay far away from main characters like this—lest he get sucked into their disaster-prone gravitational fields.

Even if Iron Man wasn't cursed by fate, he was definitely a magnet for trouble—or worse, someone who created it.

Henry stood up and glanced around, looking for a cop or FBI agent. Time to give his statement and go home. The sooner he left this walking catastrophe behind, the better.

Tony noticed and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Turning myself in. Do whatever they want with me."

"You're not gonna wait for my lawyer to get here?"

"I'll represent myself. The law's written in books, right? A quick skim should be enough."

It was an insanely cocky thing to say—but coming from Henry, it didn't even sound that crazy. Tony wasn't offended either, probably because he felt the same way. He usually let his lawyers handle things just because he didn't want to read.

But what did bother Tony was how desperately Henry seemed to want to get away from him—like he was some kind of plague.

Luckily, Tony had an excellent memory. Maybe he didn't care about a lot of things, but he sure remembered details when it mattered.

"If I invited you to another party… would you go?" he asked suddenly.

"No thanks," Henry replied immediately. "Pretty sure I've developed an allergy to rich-people parties. A few more of these, and I'll end up in a body bag. Seriously, are you sure you're not part Russian? You act like you downed a bottle of vodka and shouted 'Ura!' before showing up."

Tony actually didn't take offense. He just said, "It's not one of those parties. Just a small dinner. A gathering hosted by a relative of mine."

"Then I definitely don't belong there. You think I'm gonna show up and do party tricks? Or maybe serve as the token poor guy so everyone can feel grateful for their trust funds?" Henry said, walking away.

Tony pulled an exaggerated pout. "A shame. Ms. Hepburn's dinners aren't something just anyone gets invited to. Then again… what would I bring you for? You don't know anyone there. You wouldn't fit in."

Henry stopped. Then turned back around.

With a dramatic shift in tone, he approached and bowed slightly, face full of humble sincerity.

"Mr. Stark, I believe there's been a misunderstanding between us. If I've done anything to offend you, please accept my deepest apologies.

"Your lawyer should be arriving soon, right? I can give them the full rundown on tonight's events. You'd only need to add a few details yourself. Save you some breath."

He wasn't done.

"Of course, I'll emphasize your bravery. The heroic conduct, your noble character… As the heir to Stark Industries, you risked your life to save so many people. A true role model for American youth!

"And hey—we're in Hollywood. Maybe we should get this story on the big screen. Let the world see your perfect aim, your fearless courage. A movie deal might not be a bad idea."

He went on, voice dripping with faux reverence.

"If the whole 'body count' thing hurts your image, we could say I did the shooting. You, using your genius intellect, provided expert tactical guidance that saved my life countless times. Without your command, I'd have died for sure!"

The barrage of flattery left Tony speechless.

He stared, visibly disturbed, at this shape-shifting Kryptonian.

"…Was that a bit much?" Henry asked with a sheepish grin.

"Bit much?" Tony backed away a few steps. "That was like ten different personalities at once. Are you schizophrenic?"

Henry grinned wider. "It's still me, sir—your most loyal friend. Or if that's too much, your most loyal servant." He nearly lunged forward to hug Tony's thigh.

Tony cursed, "For god's sake, talk like a normal person! And don't call me Mr. Stark. That reminds me of the old man. Call me Tony. Then maybe… maybe I'll think about bringing you to Hepburn's dinner."

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