Manhattan, William's apartment.
When William opened the door, Jessica Jones was sitting on the sofa, her feet resting on the edge of the coffee table, a bottle of whiskey in one hand, and her phone in the other, engrossed in something.
"You're back."
Jessica didn't even lift her head, still focused.
"Hmm, it smells... strange. Where have you been messing around?"
"Brooklyn, closed a big client."
William walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of Water.
"Big client? Took an oil bath in Brooklyn's industrial zone in the middle of the night?"
Jessica put down the bottle and stared at him.
"Don't tell me you've switched to selling drugs."
"Much more high-end than that."
William took a sip of Water.
"Risk management."
Jessica slammed the bottle down on the coffee table.
The thud of glass hitting wood made the air vibrate.
"Risk management?"
She let out a soft laugh, her eyes, always filled with mockery and weariness, scrutinized William from head to toe.
"I heard Police sirens, a lot of them, all heading to Dumbo."
"The CyberFuture Data Center over there is in chaos."
She leaned forward, the smell of alcohol mixed with her sharp scrutiny hitting him.
"Your 'big client' wouldn't happen to be the one who drew all of New York's Police there, would he?"
"My client is the victim."
William sat down opposite her, his expression unchanged.
He placed the coffee table between them.
"Their data center was visited by a thief who comes and goes like a Shadow, suffering heavy losses."
He opened the briefcase beside him and took out a beautifully bound folder, its cover emblazoned with "CyberFuture Data Center Asset Theft Risk Assessment Report" in gold foil.
He pushed the folder onto the coffee table.
"This is my preliminary assessment report, which I'm preparing to submit to the board tomorrow."
Jessica glanced at the incredibly professional-looking document, but her suspicion didn't lessen in the slightest.
She picked up the bottle and took another swig.
"You want to make me laugh myself to death so you don't have to pay rent? Your idiotic board is just you!"
"A ghost, huh?"
She mumbled indistinctly.
"Recently, there have been some rumors in Hell's Kitchen about a ghost that can walk through walls, stealing things everywhere."
"Sounds like a tabloid headline."
William hadn't expected news about Ava to already be circulating in the underworld.
"It does sound very bizarre."
William maintained his composure.
"But for the insurance industry, any bizarre risk, as long as it exists, has assessable value."
"Is that so?"
Jessica put down the bottle, leaned back into the sofa, and crossed her arms.
"Yesterday, some shady guy came to my detective agency. He wanted to hire me to catch this ghost."
William's nerves instantly tensed.
"Oh? And you took the case?"
"I kicked him out."
Jessica pouted.
"He didn't offer enough money, and I hate people telling me what to do."
Her gaze returned to William.
"However, I'm a little curious now."
"You, an insurance salesman, why are you so invested in this 'ghost' client?"
"You don't seem like the type to chase urban legends for a few insurance policies."
William felt the pressure.
Jessica's intuition was as keen as a hound's nose.
"You're right, Jessica."
William's tone changed, losing its professional smoothness and gaining a touch of honesty.
"You've always known that what I sell has never been ordinary insurance."
He gazed at Jessica, as if trying to penetrate the thick mental defenses she had built with alcohol and irritability.
"I provide 'battle damage maintenance agreements' for billionaires bound in Iron Armor, and 'anonymous identity protection' for lonely souls seeking justice in the dark night."
"My clients, their problems, have never been solvable by money."
William leaned forward.
His hands were clasped on his knees.
"Their problems are the curse brought by power, the loneliness brought by secrets, the fear of walking on a knife's edge and not knowing which step will plunge them into the abyss."
Jessica let out a disdainful snort.
She placed the half-empty whiskey bottle aside, but her body did not relax.
"Easier said than done."
She changed her posture.
Her elbows rested on her knees, her entire being like a leopard poised to strike.
"I've seen more bastards than you've drunk Water, and every single one of them had a fancy speech. If a billionaire's tin toy breaks, he has his own money to fix it."
"As for those lunatics who act as vigilantes at night, they don't need insurance policies, they need a Doctor. So, put away your sales pitch."
"Xiao Wei, I don't understand you."
William was not intimidated by her aura.
He knew that any false empathy or flowery language was a waste of breath when dealing with Jessica.
He needed to use a logic she could understand to explain his "product."
"What I sell is certainty, Jessica."
William's voice became calm.
"In a World full of uncertainty, I offer a predictable outcome."
He didn't look at Jessica, but instead cast his gaze towards the floor-to-ceiling window behind her, outside of which was the dazzling yet detached night view of Manhattan.
"You possess strength far beyond ordinary people; this is your 'asset,' and also your biggest 'risk exposure.'"
"Every time you lose control, every time you are forced to use your abilities, every time you clash with someone, you are generating potential 'liabilities.'"
"A door you accidentally crushed, a thug you accidentally pushed over, or even this expensive floor beneath your feet."
"These are all money, Jessica."
"From a few hundred U.S. dollars in repair fees to millions of U.S. dollars in damage lawsuits and hush money."
"Can you afford it?"
Jessica fell silent.
She hated this topic; she remembered William saying similar things before, and every word he said hit her where it hurt.
A large part of the reason her detective agency was always on the verge of bankruptcy was the extra expenses caused by her uncontrollable destructive power.
Even though William had paid out 500,000 U.S. dollars.
But the orphanage, her own debts, the poor... there were too many places that needed money.
Perhaps she wasn't selfish enough?
Jessica thought self-deprecatingly.
William continued, "This is just the financial aspect; let's talk about the more core risks. Mind control, personality overlay, memory alteration."
"You've experienced it; you know what that feels like."
"When your body no longer belongs to you, when your will is manipulated, what Doctor can cure that helplessness and fear?"
Jessica's breath hitched abruptly; William had forcibly pried open the deepest, locked room in her heart, overgrown with nightmares.
"What if you had 'Mental Barrier Rider insurance'? It could provide a third-party, high-strength psychic shield when you suffer a psychic attack."
"It can't guarantee 100% safety, but it can buy you those precious few seconds, giving you a chance to break free, a chance to fight back."
"It can give you a choice, instead of just passively enduring."
"Enough!"
Jessica abruptly stood up, the sofa beneath her groaning under the strain.
Her emotions fluctuated violently as her sensitive spot was touched, powerful energy surging within her, making the surrounding air heavy.
"Stop dissecting me with your self-righteous analysis!"
She glared at William, the Fire in her eyes almost solidifying.
"You don't understand anything!"
"I don't need your insurance! I don't need anyone's pity or protection!"
"I rely on myself!"
William watched her quietly.
He neither refuted nor retreated.
At this moment, Jessica was like a cornered beast, any provocation could cause her to completely erupt.
He merely stated the facts calmly.
"But you don't live in this World alone, Jessica. Every time you erupt, you could hurt innocent people."
"Your neighbors, pedestrians on the street, even the clients you want to protect. Can you truly guarantee that your power will never get out of control?"
These words were like a bucket of ice Water, dousing half of Jessica's rage.
She remembered many people, many things.
Those who were dragged into trouble because of her existence, those faces injured by her power.
Her shoulders slumped, her whole body deflated, and she sank back into the sofa, her face etched with deep fatigue and self-loathing.
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