On the rooftop of a distant high-rise, unnoticed by the two girls, Cassie Webb sat in her tactical wheelchair and asked the man beside her, "Aren't you going to hug that little girl?"
Henry sat on the edge of the rooftop with one leg bent. "If they can't understand the weight of life, then the best place for them to play superhero is in their bedroom, or on a console or computer.
"If they want shelter beneath my wings, they have to follow my rules. Since they chose this path without asking me, they have to bear the consequences themselves. That's reasonable, isn't it?
"And the sooner they learn this, the better. Whether they ultimately choose to give up and quit, or carry those mistakes, grow from them, and keep walking forward stronger, it's a good thing."
Not dying had always been the bottom line. But he wasn't their biological father, much less some god among men or Moral paragon. He had done plenty of dirty things and made plenty of mistakes himself.
He had no interest in raising porcelain dolls or pure little saints. If they wanted to live in a fairy tale, they could stay inside the birdcage he had built for them. If they wanted freedom, they had to face the real side of society themselves, whether it was filthy or foul.
With the aid of her technological helmet, Cassie Webb looked toward Henry. "I really don't know whether you're gentle or cruel."
"They stopped being children a long time ago. In the Middle Ages, they might already have been married with children and become mothers. Keeping them alive is one thing. If I have to guarantee their mental health too, that's going too far. None of them are easy to worry about."
"Actually—" Cassie Webb looked