I Have a Bold Idea

The system's final warning from three years ago surfaced in his mind again.

[The timeline has diverged.]

It was no minor deviation. One of the most important characters had changed, starting with their sex.

That meant the story he knew could only serve as a reference.

But perhaps The Seven would still form in this world. Perhaps Butcher, Hughie, and The Boys would still appear.

If so, would Ryan, Homelander's biological son in the original story, still be born?

Maybe it was better if he wasn't. Lin Mo looked at the blonde girl behind the glass, his thoughts racing. He had never liked Ryan while watching the show anyway. In the end, Ryan had joined Butcher against Homelander. He must have been blind. Too much time staring at his phone, probably.

But Soldier Boy might still disappear in Nicaragua. Every pivotal event could change because this girl existed.

With that thought, Lin Mo suddenly understood why Vought's researchers wanted them to meet.

It wasn't just because he had appeared. Perhaps because she was female rather than the male subject from the original story, her personality had developed differently. Her file said HL-01—Homelander—couldn't form a stable emotional bond with anyone.

Vought's brainwashing and the psychological pressure it put on her had probably begun to affect her differently.

And she was already so powerful that ordinary psychological researchers could hardly withstand her. Every encounter risked casualties.

Meanwhile, he, SOL-0, happened to have formidable defenses. One child couldn't control her strength; the other was almost impossible to hurt with ordinary attacks.

Vought probably wanted to use him to see what would happen if they put the two together.

"Is she like me?"

Lin Mo stopped looking through the glass and turned to Vogelbaum as he asked.

Vogelbaum looked down at him.

An ordinary three-year-old might not understand the atmosphere, but he could still notice something strange about the room and the security guards' behavior. The question wasn't out of place.

"Just a few accidents," Vogelbaum said.

"She hasn't learned to control her strength yet."

"So you want me to teach her?"

Lin Mo's voice was still childish, but Vogelbaum's answer had all but confirmed his suspicions.

Surprise flashed in Vogelbaum's eyes. He bent down and patted Lin Mo's head, putting on a kindly expression.

"What makes you think that?" he asked curiously.

Lin Mo raised an arm and feigned pride.

"Because I'm really strong."

The observation room fell quiet for a moment.

Several researchers exchanged glances. Vogelbaum's smile gradually became more genuine. Lin Mo's answer had surprised him. If Lin Mo met her, and things went as Vogelbaum had originally imagined...

"You're very clever. We just want you two to meet first."

"If you don't like her, we can stop at any time."

Lin Mo rolled his eyes inwardly. Who would believe that?

Since when had Vought allowed a test subject to decide whether an experiment ended?

Still, he had no intention of refusing. As he looked at the child behind the glass, a new idea occurred to him.

For three years, leaving Vought had been his most important goal for the future.

He would wait to grow older, wait to reach the sun, wait until he had built up enough strength to break free.

Then he would leave this underground laboratory and find a life of his own in this world.

What became of Homelander had nothing to do with him. Even as a woman, she was only a character in a story on a different timeline.

But the real Homelander was sitting on the other side of the glass.

She wasn't the madman draped in the American flag, wearing a false smile on television. Nor was she the tyrant who stood atop skyscrapers looking down on everyone.

She was only a three-year-old child.

Barefoot, clutching a blue blanket.

Pitiful. Tragic. Then again, Homelander in the original story had been a tragedy too.

Unable to control his strength, he couldn't have normal contact with anyone. He had even been locked alone in an empty room.

For the first time, Lin Mo had a thought that had nothing to do with escaping Vought.

In the original story, Homelander had grown up in Vought's cold laboratory.

He had no parents, no friends, no normal emotional bonds. All he had known since childhood were tests, orders, fear, and false praise, while Vought manipulated him psychologically.

In the end, he had become a monster desperate to be loved, yet utterly incapable of loving anyone.

But what if things changed?

If, when this female Homelander first began to understand the world, there was someone beside her whom she couldn't easily hurt, someone who wouldn't immediately leave out of fear, would she still become the person from the original story?

Lin Mo didn't think a few words from him could change someone, nor did he see himself as a born savior. He wasn't a Superman with a heart for justice like Clark. At heart, he was an ordinary person. But he had an idea, and now he had the chance and the ability to try it.

Maybe it was selfish of him, too. He wanted to see what good might come of a world that had a chance to produce a decent Homelander.

He had time, and he could afford to make mistakes. At the very least, the girl across from him couldn't easily kill him. Perhaps he didn't have to do nothing but wait until he was strong enough to escape.

He could stay for now and see what kind of person this female Homelander would become with him in her life.

The blonde girl behind the glass still clutched her blanket. She hadn't looked up once. But just as Lin Mo was about to look away, her body shifted slightly.

The girl slowly raised her face. Her pale eyes fixed precisely on the one-way glass. She didn't search around, nor did the equipment in the observation room draw her attention.

Her gaze fell straight on where Lin Mo stood.

Through the specially made glass, which allowed observation only from the outside and contained an unusual substance, their gazes seemed to meet in midair.

Lin Mo frowned instinctively. She shouldn't have been able to see him. At her age, her X-ray vision shouldn't have awakened yet.

Besides, the glass was built so that she couldn't see through it.

Unless...

She had heard him. His breathing, perhaps even his heartbeat.

The blonde girl hugged the blue blanket tighter and said nothing.

But she didn't look away again. It was as though she had known all along that behind the glass stood another child like her.

"Are we really going to do this, Doctor?" In a research room in Vought's bunker, a young female researcher listlessly leafed through a stack of experimental records.

"Of course, Barbara. We have to try, don't we?" Vogelbaum sat in a chair, still wearing that kindly smile.

"But can we really control Joanna? And with Lin Mo added as a variable, this may not be what Vought's leadership decided..."

Barbara's face was full of worry. She feared something might go wrong with the subjects. Lin Mo was an exceptionally good test subject, after all. They hadn't subjected him to the same twisted upbringing as Homelander, and they liked him more than Joanna.

Vought's leadership paid little attention to Lin Mo, either. Research on him had made no breakthroughs, so over time they had stopped asking about him. After Joanna was born, he had faded even further into the background. Vogelbaum, though, had always thought highly of him.

Most test subjects had volatile tempers, but Lin Mo was different. He was gentle, and unlike the others, they had practically watched him grow up. It was only natural that they felt something different toward him.

"I wouldn't put it that way. Of course I know involving Lin Mo could produce unexpected results. But no other test subject is better suited to this."

Vogelbaum sighed and continued, "Vought's leadership wants us to create a powerful superweapon that's easy to control. That's why we need to deliberately create a 'psychological vulnerability.'"