Type-Moon, but the Servant is Tom

Bai Song had no doubts about his collaboration with Tom and Jerry; he believed that together, they were invincible. There was no need for skepticism when he had the combined strength of himself, Tom, and Jerry.

Meanwhile, as Jerry successfully dismantled the battery of the electric scooter, he struggled to lift it up with both hands before effortlessly tossing it into his pocket, which seemed to magically accommodate the large battery without any resistance.

Bai Song rubbed his eyes, momentarily suspecting that he was seeing things. However, no matter how many times he blinked, the sight of a massive battery fitting seamlessly into a pocket designed for Jerry's size remained unchanged. It was a surreal sight.

Jerry took a deep breath after disposing of the battery. He then jumped onto the bag containing the battery, attempting to use it as a cushion. However, Tom, who had been feigning disinterest, had other plans. With a mischievous grin, Tom lightly kicked the bag, shifting its position.

As Jerry descended, legs crossed and hands behind his head, Tom's wicked intentions came to fruition. The bag had been moved just as Jerry was about to land on it, resulting in a comical splat sound, akin to a rubber doll hitting the ground.

Jerry, now flattened into a "pancake," gradually regained his form from head to toe, ending his transformation with a furious glare at Tom. Yet, Tom's laughter persisted, punctuated by his finger pointing at Jerry.

Bai Song intervened, raising his hand to deliver a swift slap to the top of Tom's head. The impact elicited a yelp from Tom, who then remembered Bai Song's previous request for quiet and promptly covered his mouth.

Luckily, Bai Song had only lightly punched Tom on the head, allowing him to stifle any cries of pain. Nevertheless, Tom shot a furious glare at Jerry, who was still convulsed with laughter.

As everyone knows, a smile never disappears; it merely shifts from one person's face to another. Tom's laughter effortlessly transferred to Jerry's face, resulting in a seamless exchange of amusement.

"Enough with the nonsense, let's get going!" Bai Song instructed, shoving Jerry into his pocket and draping Tom around his neck. By physically separating the two feisty companions, he hoped to quell their tempers.

Securing the medium-sized linen bag on the ground, which now contained the battery, Bai Song exerted a bit too much force while attempting to lift it. He nearly ended up sitting on the ground but managed to adjust his effort in time.

Lifting the bag, Bai Song's expression turned incredulous. "Why is this so light?" Despite containing a battery larger than his own head, the bag felt no heavier than Jerry.

Observing the bag's limp appearance, Bai Song almost doubted whether he had stolen a battery at all. If he hadn't seen the battery being placed into the bag earlier, he might have suspected he was holding an empty sack.

This was surely a manifestation of Jerry's extraordinary mouse abilities.

Without dwelling on the matter, Bai Song began to run, clutching a bag that, to any onlooker, appeared to contain anything but an electric scooter battery. He parked Spike, his battery-depleted scooter, nearby in a dead-end alley, an inconspicuous hiding spot. As long as no one followed him, he was safe.

Furthermore, if he were being trailed, Spike was no pushover. Regardless of who approached, Spike would undoubtedly provide them with a memorable encounter.

Running, Bai Song occasionally glanced backward, his smile growing more audacious. Even if there were surveillance cameras, it would be impossible for anyone to deduce that he had stolen the battery. He hadn't touched the electric scooter; he had merely picked up a linen bag he had previously discarded.

Given the bag's size, even if Conan were called upon, he wouldn't be able to crack the case, right?

"Damn it, what the heck just zoomed past?!" A man had just finished styling his hair and walked out of the restaurant when something flashed before his eyes. Immediately afterward, a gust of wind and dust kicked up by the moving object turned his perfectly coiffed hair into a mess.

Instinctively, he pulled out his mirror, intending to salvage his freshly styled hair with a quick touch. But as he gazed into the mirror, he realized that his carefully crafted hair was completely ruined. His hand trembled, almost dropping the mirror to the ground.

Turning back to the hairstylist, who was now looking in his direction, he said, "... Can you fix it again?"

"Sure, but you've already left the salon. You'll have to pay again," the hairstylist replied, pointing to the spot a meter away from the shop's entrance where the man stood.

"... Fu*king hell!"

Walking back towards the shop, the man muttered angrily under his breath. His meticulously styled hair was utterly destroyed. He was beyond frustrated. If he ever found out who was responsible for this, they were in for a rough time. He certainly wouldn't take it lightly.