Time swiftly advanced to April 1st.

Today was April Fool's Day.

Dean was off today.

Because he hadn't returned home for many consecutive days, under the barrage of urgent calls from his mother, Sheila, he dutifully came back. He found himself lounging on the sofa with his younger brother, Thompson, watching TV.

Sinclair had gone out on a date today.

Thompson, that fellow, wasn't interested in talk shows or similar entertainment programs and had switched directly to a science program.

On TV, they were explaining the origin of April Fool's Day:

This festival originated from a calendar reform in France in 1564. At that time, the King of France wished to start the new year on January 1st, changing the old calendar which designated April 1st as the new year's commencement. During the implementation of the new calendar, some conservatives opposed this reform, staunchly adhering to the old system and rejecting the new one. These stubborn individuals continued to exchange gifts on April 1st and organize New Year celebrations.

The proponents of reform were displeased with the actions of these traditionalists. To mock these old-timers, the reformists would give fake gifts to the conservatives on April 1st, invite them to sham celebrations, and dubbed those who were fooled "April Fish."

Afterward, this mutual trickery on this particular day, over time, evolved into a popular custom in France.

By the 18th century, this custom had spread to the Commonwealth. Eventually, during the great wave of immigration to the Commonwealth, early immigrants brought it to the occupied land that is now the United States Federation. With the growing strength and prosperity of the United States, the custom disseminated globally.

At the end of the program, the 'historical' professor stated with a confident tone, "The dissemination of national culture invariably accompanies a nation's strength. We have reason to believe that, whether in the Eastern or Western Hemisphere, all will eventually lean ideologically towards the great United States!"

Thompson, hearing this, curled his lip scornfully. "Dean, I really don't understand. In the United States Federation, an immigrant country, do its historians even have what you'd call 'history'?"

In his view, this federal country was just a large entity bound by interests. The vested interests had established various measures allowing more ordinary citizens to enjoy all kinds of 'happy education' and generous benefits. This contented them to the point where they hardly had enough motivation to work hard. Consequently, they and their descendants were often unable to acquire sufficient knowledge and vision for social mobility.

As a smart person, Thompson had seen through these things early on and had begun to consciously study law-related knowledge.

Hearing his little brother's rant, Dean smiled. "The history of the United States, in fact, can be summed up as genocidal colonization, the African slave trade, civil war, and global economic plunder. None of these things are pretty. If it weren't for those so-called 'academic experts' beautifying them, the United States Federation wouldn't have so many people 'coming in admiration' every year."

This federal nation, although possessing many globally renowned universities and research institutions, also had a significant ulterior motive for their existence: to siphon off a large number of elites from other nations. Every year, the United States Federation spends a vast amount of money on public opinion campaigns, guiding the younger generations from various countries to yearn for this prosperous nation. A continuous infusion of excellent fresh blood was also one of the main reasons this historically brief federation had been able to maintain such vitality.

However, due to the overly complex composition of its immigrants, there were many internal problems. When economic growth slumped, these issues, along with civic unrest and internal conflicts, were often deflected towards 'harmless' matters.

But let's not dwell on that for now.

After Dean imparted to his little brother the logic of penetrating appearances to see the essence, he changed the subject. "Thompson, I heard from Mom that you've been frequently attending court hearings lately?"

"Yes. I used to be really curious about relationships, but after dating a few, I found them too boring," Thompson yawned. "I must consider the next generation of our family!"

Dean: "???"

A fifteen-year-old kid, after dating a few people, has already become this mature in his thinking?

He looked at his little brother with surprise. "Thompson, I must remind you, this is home, not your little girlfriend's pink wooden bed. You don't need to paint a rosy picture for your own brother!"

Thompson rolled his eyes. "Dean, be serious. I've recently been dating a girl from a very wealthy family, and she made me realize a harsh truth."

"What truth?"

"Pure hard work is useless."

Thompson lay sprawled lazily on the carpet, arms outstretched, eyes staring at the ceiling. "Although I'm confident enough to get into the best universities in the United States, I'm not confident that I'll make a lot of money or attain a high status later on. If I can't manage it with my smarts, it's even less likely for my descendants. But those wealthy heirs easily enjoy the best resources and enter fields their elders have already cultivated, with ample resources for trial, error, and growth. Their elders have already completed the initial accumulation for them. And our family doesn't seem to have formed this concept yet!"

Speaking of this, Thompson's face showed a determined look, and he said confidently, "As the smart one in the family, I've already realized this issue and am prepared to develop in this direction. We can't count on our older brother. Dean, work hard! One day you'll become a high-ranking officer in the police force, and I'll be the rising star of the Justice Department. We brothers will advance together—you with your badge and gun, and me with my gavel and laws. We'll work hand in hand to become bigger and stronger..."

Dean looked at his increasingly excited little brother and patted his forehead. "Buddy, did you just lose your virginity in the last few days?"

As soon as Dean said this, Thompson's impassioned speech abruptly stopped.

He chuckled sheepishly, stretched out his small hand, and rubbed his thumb against his index finger. "Yes, and I used her allowance for the hotel room and the 'little umbrellas.' Dean, could you give me some more allowance~"

Dean shrugged. "Of course, that's no problem. But you should first think about how you're going to explain eating the forbidden fruit to Mom."

Upon hearing this, Thompson stiffened. He tilted his head back, just in time to meet the gaze of his mother standing behind him, hands on her hips, looking down at him...

Oh no.

That bastard Dean! He didn't even warn me!

「At dusk.」

Sinclair returned home with a bag full of 'booty'.

Sheila greeted her with a warm hug, while simultaneously taking the opportunity to scan the outside suspiciously, trying to spot any little rascals hiding around who might have escorted her daughter home.

The incident with Thompson had left her shaken. When her son sowed his wild oats, as a mother, Sheila might feel a bit embarrassed, but at most, she would just silently leave a box of 'little umbrellas' on his bedside table to avoid becoming a grandmother too soon. But if anyone were to mess with her daughter, who was only eleven years old!!! Then Sheila would be more than pleased to grab the double-barreled shotgun from her room and have a serious talk with the offender's parents about self-respect and self-love!

Sinclair, precocious for her age, rolled her eyes at her mother. "Cut it out, Sheila. I'm not interested in those kids my age. Help me with my loot; I'm exhausted today."

As she spoke, Sinclair's cheeks were flushed, and her gaze was slightly unfocused. Just by the sound of her voice, she'd had a pretty good day.

"Loot?"

Sheila took the sack from Sinclair's hand. Opening it, she found dozens of small plaster animals inside, each about the

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