At 10:30 a.m., the lively and grand opening ceremony had concluded.
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The extras had cleared out of the small-town set inside the studio. The lighting, camera, and script teams were all in place, and the entire crew was ready and waiting for the first scene to begin.
In the middle of the sprawling set, everyone's eyes silently converged on a small figure.
It was a solo scene. Ryan had to portray a carefree, happy moment in a small-town boy's life, setting up a stark contrast with the drastic changes that would come later.
"Scene one, take one..."
"Action!"
At the director's command, the characters, houses, and streets suddenly came to life on camera.
Director Adam sat behind the monitors, his full attention fixed on the little boy in the frame, watching his every move.
This was wonderful. This feeling!
The eight-year-old boy lifted his fair little face. Warm light fell on his soft hair, tracing it with a faint golden edge.
His eyes were clear and sparkling, like they held the sunshine of early summer—clean, pure, and untouched by a hint of gloom.
He glanced around, then suddenly seemed to spot something. Delight spread across his face.
He scampered toward it, his little feet pattering. But after just two steps, he suddenly began to tread very lightly, even rising onto his tiptoes.
The camera moved in, cutting to the space in front of Ryan.
A little orange cat came into frame, curled up quietly on the stone steps as it lazily licked its paw.
Then the boy's cautious back appeared in the shot again.
The sound crew picked up his soft, gentle child's voice: "Are you sunbathing here all by yourself, too?"
The orange cat flicked its tail and glanced back at him.
"Don't you have any friends to play with? I happen to be free. I can keep you company."
The boy spoke softly, tentatively reaching out to pet the adorable little cat.
Suddenly, everything went wrong.
The orange cat, docile until then, was startled. It abruptly raised a paw and viciously clawed at the boy's outstretched arm.
"Cu??"
The sudden mishap sent Director Adam into a panic. He was about to call cut.
But Ryan didn't stop acting. His next move made Adam swallow the order before it could leave his mouth.
Ryan drew his scratched arm back to look at it. There wasn't a mark or a drop of blood on his skin; it was as perfect as if the cat had never scratched him.
He glanced at the orange cat as it ran off, then turned and tucked his arm away. At the same time, he simply sat down on the steps.
A breeze swept through the set's streets, ruffling the hem of his loose clothes.
He looked up at the studio ceiling, seeming to see blue sky and white clouds.
His eyes curved into a smile, betraying only a hint of delight. He showed none of the bad temper one might expect after being attacked by a stray cat.
He said softly, "Run along. Go live freely and happily. Just don't let any bad guys catch you, okay?"
"Cut!"
Adam sprang to his feet and hurried onto the set, praising Ryan again and again. "Oh my God, that was amazing, Ryan! Your performance was far beyond anything I imagined!"
"You really are a child prodigy!"
"That damn cat went off script and scratched you. I was about to call cut, but I never expected you to handle it like that. You..."
Adam's flattery was still flowing when Ryan smiled at him. "Director, I'm a little tired. I'd like to go rest for a bit."
"Huh? Of course. Go get some rest, Ryan."
Ryan nodded and headed straight for the rest area.
Ashley came over, beaming. The assistant she'd had with her for the past two weeks followed close behind.
In the nearby rest area, Maeve—whom Ryan had deliberately found an excuse to keep there—only glanced at him before bringing the silver flask in her hand back to her lips.
But why hadn't anything started yet?
A brief flicker of doubt crossed Ryan's mind as he headed back.
He'd noticed Homelander's strange, awkward, and unsettling moods over the past two weeks.
With Raven's supernatural ability to sense good and evil, he'd also managed to find the superpowered person hiding in the shadows: the new assistant following Ashley at that very moment.
She was Stan Edgar's person!
It wasn't that Ryan underestimated Stormfront. Anyone capable of sending someone bold enough to secretly manipulate Homelander's emotions couldn't possibly be her.
She didn't have that kind of power, you know?
And she was stupid, too!
Ryan shot Stormfront, who'd found an excuse to stay behind, a strange look.
The more he thought about it, the more certain he became. Stormfront had definitely... No, better put, Stan Edgar had definitely changed his mind partway through. He wasn't playing along with Stormfront anymore.
Why did Ryan think so?
Because the moment he noticed something was wrong with Homelander's emotions, his first reaction had been to deal with it at once.
He'd thought Stan Edgar and Stormfront were trying to cut off Homelander's love for his son, preventing Ryan from continuing to influence him.
But he was wrong.
Through Raven's ability, he saw that Homelander's goodwill toward him—or, rather, his love for his son—had grown stronger and stronger over the past two weeks.
That green glow was so intense it nearly blinded Raven.
All right, by this point, Ryan had a pretty good idea of what was going on.
For some reason, Stan Edgar had changed course midway. The person he'd sent was continuing to manipulate Homelander's emotions, but in doing so, she was both creating some kind of opportunity for Stormfront and deepening Homelander's love for Ryan.
And since that old fox Stan wasn't here today, Ryan would leave that for later.
So that still left the question: why hadn't anything started yet??
I'm waiting for a chance to land a killing blow on you.
Stormfront, you hundred-year-old young milkmaid—what are you waiting for? Ovulation?
All these thoughts passed through Ryan's mind in just a few steps. And just as he finished thinking them, he watched...
Thump...
Ashley's assistant suddenly stumbled and fell flat on her face.
"Aaah... It hurts!! It hurts so much!!!"
The assistant lay on the ground, and one yellow blister after another erupted across the skin exposed by her clothes.
She writhed in agony, crying out again and again.
The moment it happened, Ashley dodged out of the way. She moved even faster than Maeve, who rushed over, and Stormfront, who tossed aside her livestreaming phone and hurried over with a concerned expression.
As she dodged, Ashley shouted, "This has nothing to do with me! There's something wrong with her!"
"Stop shouting. Give me the phone!"
"What?"
Ashley stared back at him blankly.
Ryan didn't waste time explaining. He simply reached over.
He snatched his own phone from Ashley's hand, then went straight to the text message he'd drafted and saved in advance.
Send.
Recipient: Raven.
By the time he'd done that and looked up again, Maeve and Stormfront were almost simultaneously about to reach him from two different directions, one near and one far.
"No!! My love, you—what happened to you?"
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