The Pure White Son of Truman's World

The warm breeze caught the sheer curtains by the window, brushing them gently against Ryan's skin.

The mingled scent of vanilla made eight-year-old Ryan involuntarily set down his toy and turn his gaze toward the window.

In the quiet, peaceful community street, people went about their daily business.

A car drove slowly into view, and a moment later, the sound of a door opening echoed from the entryway.

Becca pushed the door open and stepped inside. She shed the strength she had been forcing herself to maintain while out, a trace of imperceptible exhaustion hidden in her eyes, along with a soul-deep fear.

Immediately, it all vanished the moment she was about to step into the living room.

"Ryan, look what Mom brought back for you."

"Wow, it's Gentle Return of the Block City~~"

A childish voice filled with intense anticipation rang out, a sound that made one's heart soften just to hear it.

Becca couldn't help but quicken her pace to the sofa and sit down. She pulled the child gently into her arms and kissed Ryan's forehead, her movements tender and maternal.

"Don't rush, I'll play it for you right now."

As the television screen, which received only specific signal frequencies, lit up, a block-style cartoon with bright colors and a naive art style began to play.

The little figures on the screen were all shaped like building blocks, with red roofs and blue skies; the simple composition pieced together a story that was both educational and heartwarming.

"It's episode 132!"

Ryan exclaimed, seemingly unable to wait to share it with his mother: "In the last episode, Vought helped Jerry the Fox find his partner."

"In this episode..."

Becca continued: "He will still extend a helping hand without hesitation, always treat others with kindness, and never bully the weak. Even though he possesses great power, he uses it solely to protect the weak around him."

As she spoke, Becca looked at her son: "Child, you must become a good person like Vought, okay?"

"Okay, Mom!"

Ryan replied sincerely from the bottom of his heart, even as he remained immersed in the animation.

Seeing her son so engrossed, Becca stood up and ruffled his hair: "Mom is going to make you some lunch."

Ryan did not reply.

His pupils, fixed on the television, contracted and shifted in a way no one could perceive.

Even the surveillance camera pointed directly at him could not detect it, assuming only that he was watching with his full attention.

In the room, there was only the cheerful sound of the cartoon and the noise of Becca preparing lunch.

But if those surveillance personnel could look past the cameras and straight into Ryan's mind, they would be shocked to find that his thoughts at this very moment were anything but typical.

[Great job, Ryan!]

[Today's "Good Boy" acting experience +1... Flawless. Adding experience points to...]

[...Steel Body Level 2--172/10000]

[I'm eight years old now, why hasn't Homelander come yet?]

[Becca, my mother in this life, is wonderful, but I need Homelander's resources. Only with enough high-quality acting experience can I enhance my superpowers!]

[My equipment slot has been empty, and the way to obtain equipment must be through exploring the outside world!]

[I transmigrated into a world of superpowered villains, so why is my golden finger a Best Actor System?]

[It's simply absurd...]

The corner of Ryan's eye twitched. He had just realized that the runtime for this episode was an insane three and a half hours, and after watching for so long, the progress bar had only moved past forty minutes.

[Is this screenwriter sick? Is Vought International trying to raise a saint?]

[Are they that afraid I'll be the next Homelander?]

[Homelander is such a well-loved person. He is brave, kind, sincere, well-rounded in character and intellect, and the most responsible of all the superheroes in The Boys. Why does he attract so much criticism?]

Ryan concluded once more: [Because he is a real person who has transcended low-level interests and never hides his inner flaws... Yes, that's it.]

"Ryan, lunch is ready. You can watch more later."

"Okay, Mom."

Ryan immediately hopped off the sofa and ran to the dining table without a hint of reluctance.

Just as the mother and son were about to enjoy their warm lunch, if one were to pull back the view through the surveillance lines covering the entire villa, past the fake community set, it would lead straight to a brightly lit, massive core monitoring command center.

At the front of the vast monitoring room, the most conspicuous features were the dozens of giant high-definition screens arranged in perfect order.

In front of the synchronized footage sat a recording team of twenty people, who would detail every move Ryan made in the villa frame by frame.

Behind the recording team were psychological analysts and data observers who analyzed the footage based on those records.

The reports contained not only physiological and psychological results like motion analysis, micro-expression parsing, and mental modeling, but also rigorous data on emotional parameters and consciousness fluctuations.

Ultimately, these reports would be bundled and summarized for the person in charge on-site.

"Maternal love, kindness, empathy, soft cognition..."

"Implantation progress: 100%."

"Subject Ryan's condition remains as stable as ever. Excellent work, everyone; our personality and humanity shaping project is nearing a successful milestone."

"The next step I require from you is to screen for a replacement for the mother figure as soon as possible and formulate a contact plan..."

"What is that!!!"

Suddenly, someone in the monitoring team in front of the screens shrieked.

Immediately after, uncontrollable chaos erupted.

Until someone shouted at the top of their lungs: "Homelander!"

The room felt as if someone had pressed the pause button; everyone stared blankly at the screen, not a single person daring to make a sound.

It seemed as if they were terrified that even the slightest, most insignificant movement might be heard, thereby drawing Homelander's attention.

On the screen, outside the villa.

Homelander stood frozen on the spot.

The expression on his face spiraled out of control once again—a complex mix of surprise and disbelief, intertwined with the bitterness and longing of a deep-seated hope finally coming to fruition.

He truly had a son!

Never before had Homelander shed his facade of hypocrisy so completely, revealing the lonely, warmth-craving heart buried deep within his bones.

A faint, imperceptible moisture welled up in his eyes.

Homelander couldn't help but take a step forward, but he stopped just as quickly.

"Oh, and you, you pathetic worm."

He hoisted the man he was carrying: "A miserable wretch, but considering your wife bore me a son, I'll magnanimously forgive your insolence."

Thud.

Homelander tossed Billy Butcher aside, paying him no further mind.

In an unprecedentedly good mood, Homelander even thought at this moment that the child inside the house was a reward from God.

Who could have imagined that he, Homelander, actually had a son?

He stood quietly outside the house, gazing obsessively at the innocent, adorable smile on the child's face.

He will. I am his father, and he will smile at me just like that.

Yes, he will love me deeply and look up to me.

I will give him the best of everything; I will give him all the good things in the world, my son!