New Life

Six years after the Final Battle.

Six years had passed, yet that invasion remained a deep scar in the hearts of all humanity, one that perhaps even another ten or twenty years would struggle to erase. After the war, the world established a federal government. Although it did everything it could to tell the people how bravely its soldiers had fought on the battlefield, how the government had never abandoned hope, and how they had finally achieved this hard-won victory, those who knew the truth understood that it was all a lie. They had not won at all. The truth was that, just as victory was within his grasp, the enemy leader suddenly fell, and the unstoppable alien army withdrew from Earth.

What seemed to end along with it was the age of superheroes. In the early days of the alien invasion, the Justice League, long regarded as Earth's line of defense, vanished. Rumors said they had fought desperately for Earth but had ultimately fallen. Yet most people who had survived the disaster scoffed at them. LexCorp's president, Lex Luthor, stepped forward personally—he was also the philanthropist who had contributed the most to post-disaster reconstruction—and pointed out that it had always been foolish for humanity to entrust its fate to a group of superpowered individuals. Humanity should have taken control of its own destiny long ago.

Luthor's repeated speeches drove his ideas deep into the public consciousness. The age of superheroes was over, and a brand-new era in human history would begin here. The surviving superheroes on Earth also went into hiding, becoming urban legends and street rumors as they continued their work in the shadows, but most no longer appeared in public.

"When we needed them most, the superheroes abandoned us, so we must learn to stand on our own." That was what one reporter wrote after the war, and it largely represented the mainstream sentiment of the age.

And our transmigrator, who had "unfortunately" arrived in the apocalypse, was currently lounging with his legs crossed in a sunlit living room, watching television.

Jay Reynolds was eighteen this year—at least, that was what his new household registration stated. In truth, he had no idea what his identity after transmigrating should have been called or how old he was. When the Final Battle had ended and the orphanage took him in, they asked for his name and age, so he casually made them up. The war had created far too many homeless orphans, so no one seriously investigated the information he had fabricated.

He had found an opportunity to test his superpowers and discovered that they were exactly as he had expected—he possessed most of Superman's abilities. Heat Vision, Freeze Breath, Super Strength, Super Speed, flight, but all of them were relatively limited, clearly a notch below the genuine article. He guessed it had something to do with his age. He also quickly realized that he had transmigrated into a parallel universe based on the world of DC Comics. He was no stranger to DC Comics, but this world clearly did not match any comic universe he knew.

Naturally, he suspected that he might also be a Kryptonian like Superman. Unfortunately, he had no memories whatsoever of this body's origins, so there was no way to verify that suspicion.

He had stayed at the orphanage for less than six months before meeting the parents of this life—Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds. The surname on his household registration had also been changed to Reynolds after his adoption. His father, Charles Reynolds, was an editor at Metropolis's well-known newspaper, the Daily Planet, while his mother, Jane Reynolds, was a nurse at Metropolis General Hospital. Jay still remembered the day he was adopted: an office filled with warm, gentle sunlight. He had sat in a wooden chair with a backrest, while Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds sat on the sofa opposite him, separated by a coffee table.

What Jay remembered most about that day was how Mr. Reynolds could not put down the director's lighter. It was shaped like a revolver; pull the trigger, and flames would burst from the barrel. Mr. Reynolds held it in his hand and played with it the entire time, looking like a big kid who had discovered a new toy.

"Pay attention!" Mrs. Reynolds reminded him unhappily. "We didn't come here today to buy you a lighter."

Mr. Reynolds smiled a little sheepishly and reluctantly put down the lighter in his hand.

The two turned their attention back to Jay. Mrs. Reynolds forced the kindest smile she could manage and said, "Relax, Jay. Tell us more about yourself."

Jay scratched his head. "Like what?"

"Your hobbies, for example. You have hobbies of your own, don't you?"

"Uh, reading? I like reading all kinds of books." Jay put on a sunny smile that was practically a model answer and said, "Sometimes I try writing articles about things that interest me. I like things clean and tidy, and I like helping repair things. I guess there's nothing especially remarkable beyond that."

Mrs. Reynolds smiled with great satisfaction, as if she had spotted an outfit she liked while shopping. She said, "Wonderful. Then I think you'll like our family very much. If you're willing, we'd be delighted to become your adoptive parents."

"You could even have a computer of your own," Mr. Reynolds said, unconsciously starting to fiddle with the lighter again.

But before Jay could respond, Mrs. Reynolds snapped at her husband, "Hey! We just renovated the house, and have you forgotten that we still have twenty years left on the mortgage?"

Mr. Reynolds wilted. He was clearly lacking confidence in the face of his angry wife, and he said softly, "But I thought... it's only a computer. It shouldn't be that much of a burden."

"You thought? You never care about the household's monthly expenses, so of course you casually think that!" Mrs. Reynolds raised her voice. Jay felt that if they were not mindful of the occasion, she might have grabbed Mr. Reynolds by the ear and started shouting. The thought of that comical scene made him suppress a laugh.

Jay spoke up at just the right moment. "It's okay. I don't need a computer for now. I think all I need right now is a home, nothing more."

Those words clearly struck Mrs. Reynolds right in her soft spot. She spared Mr. Reynolds for the moment, lovingly patted Jay's head, and said, "See how sensible this child is? Don't worry. If you're willing, then from now on, you'll be part of our family, okay?"

Jay gave an "Mm," nodding his little head hard as he rejoiced inwardly that he would finally no longer have to endure communal life with a bunch of ten-year-old brats.

"That's wonderful!" Mrs. Reynolds said happily, standing up. "Then hurry and pack your things. We'll go handle the paperwork right away, and then you can move into your new home!"

Even as Mr. Reynolds stood up, he still could not bear to part with that revolver-shaped lighter. Before leaving, he used it one last time to light a cigarette, then reluctantly left it on the coffee table, muttering, "I'm getting one of those lighters too."

The orphanage handled the paperwork quite efficiently, and Jay moved into his new home that very afternoon. Looking back, Mrs. Reynolds had truly been polite to him on his first day entering the house. She brought out drinks and desserts, had Jay wait on the living room sofa, and ordered Mr. Reynolds to prepare his bedroom for him.

But now, as time passed, he naturally no longer enjoyed such privileges.

Mrs. Reynolds appeared in the living room wearing an apron and carrying a broom. She came in with such force that she looked like a warrior fully armed and ready for battle. Moving with lightning speed, she snatched the newspaper from Mr. Reynolds's hand as he lounged on the sofa with his legs crossed, then deftly switched off the television and shouted, "Everyone up! Don't waste such a beautiful day sitting around here! Get up and clean!"

Looking at the highly motivated Mrs. Reynolds, Mr. Reynolds could not help pulling a long face. "Again? I remember we just did a thorough cleaning, like..."

"Like what? A week ago?" Mrs. Reynolds raised an eyebrow.

"Only a week ago!" Encouraged by the look Jay gave him, Mr. Reynolds gathered the courage to protest. "Who cleans their house every single week?"

"Quit whining!" Mrs. Reynolds said, tossing the broom onto Mr. Reynolds without another word. He grumbled in dissatisfaction for a while, but still slowly got to his feet and obediently carried out her orders. Apparently, that was the extent of his courage.

Mrs. Reynolds tossed a rag to Jay and said, "Jay, you help too. Your bedroom, study, and all the glass and cabinets on the balcony—I need them spotless."

Jay gave a salute and imitated the soldiers on television with great seriousness. "Yes, ma'am!"

The three split up. Mrs. Reynolds began washing the mop in the bathroom, and the sound of running water could be heard throughout the house. Mr. Reynolds kept complaining under his breath while busily working with his broom. Once Jay confirmed that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Reynolds was watching him, he unleashed his Super Speed and swept through his assigned area like a whirlwind. Seconds later, he was sitting in the chair in his bedroom, whistling as he read the latest issue of a magazine. Every pane of glass and cabinet door was so clean it nearly reflected light.

Maybe in a few minutes, he could even help Mr. Reynolds finish his share of the work.

He had only been seated for a moment when the phone in the living room buzzed. He had no choice but to return to the living room and pick it up. Swiping open the screen, he found a text from Lois—a girl in his high school class.

"Hi, Jay. Sorry to bother you, but I'm planning to throw a party at my house this weekend. Everyone from class and lots of friends from different clubs will be there. I was wondering if you're free?"

Almost without thinking, Jay prepared to politely decline. At that moment, Mr. Reynolds, who was moving the sofa to deal with the dust behind it, poked his head out and asked, "Who is it? A classmate?"

"Yeah, a classmate invited me to a party." As Jay spoke, his fingers rapidly typed out a refusal. "But I'm not going."

"Why not?" Mr. Reynolds said. "I think you should give it a try. You almost never go to any parties with your classmates. Your high school life won't be complete that way!"

"I'm just not interested." Jay shrugged. "It's not a big deal."

Mr. Reynolds shook his head. "No. Listen to your old man. You have to go at least once, or someday in the future, you'll definitely regret it when you look back. Remember, when your dad was young, I met a pretty great girl at a party. Ha, I still remember—"

"Too bad she wasn't mom, right?" Jay interrupted at the worst possible moment.

"Yeah." Mr. Reynolds immediately deflated like a punctured balloon. "Such a shame. Sigh, I was too young and foolish back then. Otherwise, if I'd seized the opportunity, I..."

"Then what?"

When Mrs. Reynolds's gloomy voice appeared behind him like a ghost, Mr. Reynolds's expression changed dramatically, and he hurriedly corrected himself. "A-Anyway! Group activities with classmates are a very important part of high school life! You have to—"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Jay did not know whether to laugh or cry. "I'll go, then."