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In Hell's Kitchen, a place notorious for countless thefts, Schiller had never heard of any thieves in Hell's Kitchen targeting cakes, let alone not stopping at cakes alone; they were also stealing Schiller's freshly ground coffee beans, soda crackers, and jam.

"Is this thief a glutton reincarnated?" Schiller wondered. Stealing four pounds of cake in a day wasn't enough; they also needed half a pound of soda crackers, two cans of coffee beans, and three bottles of jam.

"He must be trying to eat himself to death," Schiller thought.

Of course, while what was lost wasn't particularly valuable, Schiller needed to capture this thief and figure out how they were making off with his belongings.

Schiller set a trap, using a cake – the thief's favorite – and a touch of fear gas. He placed it in the warehouse, the one he least frequented, waiting for the thief to take the bait.

While waiting for the bait to work, Schiller worked on a story in a notebook – one he planned to use to manipulate The Ancient One.

Implanting the concept of the Yellow King in The Ancient One's mind wasn't without purpose. In the MarvelSpace universe, countless Cosmic Gods existed, such as the Vishanti Trinity. The Ancient One drew upon their power.

The origins of Cthulhu in Marvel were somewhat scattered – some said it was an incarnation of nothingness, while others claimed it was born from the blood and tears of Space. They weren't a unified race, and their appearances varied widely.

But Schiller chose to introduce The Ancient One to another concept – the cursed script from Robert W. Chambers' short stories: "The King in Yellow."

This script was even more fantastical and romantic than the Cthulhu mythos. In the distant Pisces constellation, on the ancient City of Carcosa's Lake Hali, an ancient alien god, the Yellow King, was imprisoned. He had witnessed the fall of two black suns and was set as the embodiment of "Wind" among the ancient rulers, becoming a nemesis to Cthulhu.

One of the most distinctive features of the Yellow King was a symbol – the Yellow Sign.

But all of this was irrelevant. What mattered was that Schiller needed a convincing identity to engage The Ancient One.

He could approach Stark as a psychologist or act as a life mentor to Spider-Man. Even if Daredevil mistook him for a criminal, it wouldn't matter. However, The Ancient One was different. Without a sufficiently mysterious and powerful identity, the Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't entertain him.

Schiller had seen comics, and he knew that the MarvelSpace universe also had ancient rulers. Now, he had alerted The Ancient One. If she investigated, she would discover that everything "Hasta," the character he portrayed, said was true. A group of blind and foolish ancient rulers had been imprisoned in an extra-dimensional realm, but no one knew if they would return to Earth.

As long as The Ancient One believed even a fraction of Hasta's identity, Schiller could glean a lot of information from her.

While waiting for the thief-catching trap to work, Schiller intermittently filled in details about the Pisces constellation setting. After all, to deceive the Sorcerer Supreme, his background had to be plausible.

The thief didn't keep Schiller waiting too long.

On a dark and windy night in Hell's Kitchen, an unusual silence reigned. Schiller lay in bed, half asleep, when he heard a loud noise from the warehouse below.

He immediately woke up, realizing that his trap had sprung. He couldn't believe that a cake alone had captured the thief.

Silently, he descended the stairs without turning on the lights. If the thief had a gun and noticed him coming down, they might take aim in advance. To ensure his safety, when he reached the other side of the corridor, he planned to use Blink to teleport directly and catch the thief off guard.

But just as he was about to Blink, he suddenly noticed the warehouse door opening. Had the thief not been affected by the fear gas? Could they open the door on their own? This was starting to look bad.

Schiller abandoned the Blink plan because, once he teleported, both he and the thief would need a moment to acclimate to the unfamiliar environment, as was the case with each Blink.

He realized that the thief seemed unaware of his presence, tiptoeing along the wall down the corridor. Then he saw an extremely short figure, about as tall as a person's shins, with a round shape. As the figure emerged from the door crack, it grumbled, "Damn it! Am I drunk? Why does this cake smell like a sewage pond?"

Schiller looked at the figure, speechless. Then, he turned and reached for the light switch, flicking it on.

The round creature on the other side let out a startled cry. In an instant, it attempted to run, but Schiller extended his right hand, using a telekinesis spell to capture the creature.

Schiller's face turned visibly grim as he felt the soft, fluffy texture in his hand. To his astonishment, it was a yellow, round, and chubby creature with two long ears and a tail shaped like a thunderbolt – a Pikachu.

"Damn it! Let me go! Don't touch me with your dirty hands! What's wrong with you?! How could you capture me? Let go of me!!"

Schiller's expression was now utterly unsightly. He couldn't believe that in such a serious and somewhat dark story, a yellow electric rodent had made an appearance.

Suddenly, he found Pikachu's screaming voice strangely familiar. Wasn't this Deadpool's voice?

Schiller felt a pang of dread as he recalled that there was indeed a Hollywood movie about Pikachu – "Detective Pikachu." In that film, Pikachu shared the same voice actor as Deadpool.

Schiller took a deep breath, turned Pikachu around, and grabbed its two tiny hands. "Was it you who stole my cake, soda crackers, coffee beans, and jam?"

Pikachu's eyes rolled around, and its impossibly cute face took on a disdainful expression. In Deadpool's voice, it replied, "Hey, buddy, I had no idea your taste was so terrible. Those soda crackers you bought were tasteless without butter, and that jam, how could you like strawberry jam? It's not to my taste at all. Also, next time you cut a cake, can you not put the cake knife on top of it? Do you know how dirty that is?"

Schiller held Pikachu with one hand, covering his eyes with the other. It was a form of mental contamination he hadn't expected. Faced with Pikachu's complaints, he was genuinely at a loss, as his taste did indeed differ significantly from that of a typical U.S. citizen.

"Listen, you little thief," Schiller began, his tone stern, "firstly, you've repeatedly stolen my food, and secondly, you seem to lack any sense of guilt. It appears you're a habitual offender..."

"Alright," Pikachu waved its paw dismissively, saying, "Clearly, you're not a normal person either. I mean, how many ordinary folks can have a calm conversation with a talking mouse?"

Schiller pursed his lips, exchanging incredulous glances with Pikachu. The appearance of Pikachu had caused a seismic shift in his worldview.

Just a moment ago, he had been discussing life ideals with Batman in the incredibly dark and gothic Gotham, and now, this yellow rodent with a distinct Deadpool flavor had appeared before him. How could Schiller's mind not short-circuit?

Should he now explore the nearby bushes, gather all the Pokémon companions, and challenge various gyms? This shift in narrative style was completely out of place!

What was even more peculiar was that this yellow electric mouse, despite being only the height of a human's shin, had Deadpool's mouth – the most notorious aspect of Deadpool's character!

It hadn't missed a beat, absorbing all of Deadpool's essence, both the good and the bad.

This reminded Schiller of the comics from his previous life, where Deadpool's speech bubbles often occupied a significant portion of the comic pages. Now, Deadpool-version Pikachu, Deadpool, and Spider-Man were all converging...

Schiller thought that if he lived in a comic, he might have been obscured to the point where his face was invisible.

Moreover, he recalled that in the Hollywood version of "Detective Pikachu," Pikachu's character was adapted from the eponymous Japanese game. Here, Pikachu wasn't just a cute creature that said "Pika Pika"; it was a detective with a mature voice. Judging from Pikachu's reactions so far, its intelligence was evident. It was more than just a regular pet.

After a moment, Schiller and Pikachu sat face-to-face on the sofa. Pikachu held a cup of coffee in its tiny hands and said, "In reality, I don't have any memory. I only recall a flash of light, and then I found myself in a dumpster. It took me quite some effort to crawl out. I was starving, and I walked for miles. But all the houses on this street were locked up, except for yours. It seems the back door of your warehouse wasn't securely shut. After I came in, I followed the corridor and found the fridge... Of course, about the theft, that was indeed wrong of me, but I was just so hungry. If I manage to earn money, I'll reimburse you for the cake."

Schiller applauded him and said, "I must admit, as a mouse, your level of enlightenment is frighteningly high. If all the world's mice were as polite as you, humans wouldn't need to invent so many rodent control methods."

"So, the gas you placed next to the cake today, was it rat poison? That was incredibly stinky. Honestly, that smell nearly took half my life away."

"In reality, it wasn't rat poison. It's actually something scarier than rat poison... Anyway, you're just a mouse."

Schiller put down his coffee cup and curiously stared at Pikachu, saying, "So, can you do it?"

"Do what? What are you talking about?" Pikachu looked at him with confusion.

Schiller gazed at Pikachu's cute yellow face, which now displayed a complex expression, resembling someone who had just eaten something distasteful.

Reluctantly, under Schiller's gaze, Pikachu turned around, jumped onto the back of the sofa, and let out a resounding,

"PIKA—PIKA!!!!"

Schiller was thoroughly satisfied.