I did it on purpose, Lynn

The underground training room at the Long Island Estate was brightly lit.

Lynn held a stack of neatly arranged script cards as he looked at John, who stood opposite him in his signature Stars and Stripes suit.

"Listen, John. Tomorrow's television talk show will be completely different from dealing with those drug traffickers on the Texas border."

Lynn pointed to the camera lens beside them. "Over there, you only needed to show unbeatable strength. But in the studio, in front of hundreds or thousands of audience members and tens of millions of ordinary people watching on television, you need to show that you're approachable."

John nodded, his blue eyes fixed earnestly on Lynn. "I understand, Lynn. Make them feel that I'm a good kid, a protector who's completely safe. Right?"

"Smart." Lynn smiled and handed him a card. "The host will usually ask questions that seem pointed but have actually all been arranged beforehand by Vought International's PR department. For example, what if someone asks whether having such immense power frightens you?"

John tilted his head, thought for a moment, then offered an impeccable smile with a hint of shyness. "No, I'm not afraid. Because I know that power is meant to protect everyone. Whenever I see people smiling because they're safe, I feel that it all means something."

Looking at this boy, who could control his expressions and tone so perfectly at just eight years old, Lynn couldn't help marveling inwardly.

The superhuman processing power Compound V provided wasn't only evident in combat. This precise grasp and imitation of human emotions was equally astonishing.

But he concealed it well, merely clapping in satisfaction. "Perfect. Keep that up tomorrow night."

The following evening, at a television studio building in central Manhattan.

The backstage dressing room buzzed with voices.

A makeup artist was straightening the folds of the cape on John's suit, while Legend, Vought International's vice president in charge of public relations, paced nearby with an unlit cigar in his mouth.

"The lighting and camera positions have all been checked. The director's one of ours."

Legend walked over and patted Lynn's shoulder. "As long as this kid doesn't suddenly lose it onstage and twist the host's head off, tonight's ratings will definitely break records."

"Don't worry. He knows the rules very well."

Lynn watched John quietly cooperating with the makeup artist a short distance away, his tone calm.

As deafening cheers rose from the stage out front, a staff member poked their head in and gestured quickly. "Get ready to go on!"

John stood and took a deep breath.

He turned to look at Lynn.

Lynn gave him a thumbs-up.

The studio lights came on in an instant, focusing on the passage at center stage.

To stirring orchestral accompaniment, the host announced loudly in an exaggerated, impassioned voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome the miracle of Texas, the new hope of the United States-Homelander!"

John emerged from the passage with steady strides.

He didn't fly, but walked into the spotlight like an ordinary superhero.

He waved to the audience, wearing that bright, confident smile he had practiced hundreds upon thousands of times.

The screams and applause from the audience nearly lifted the studio roof.

A few young girls in the front row were so excited that they covered their mouths.

"Oh, listen to those cheers, John. May I call you John?"

The host, a famous comedy star with a full beard, came forward to greet him with a broad smile.

"Of course, sir."

John answered politely and took a seat on the sofa, his red cape falling naturally behind him.

"You have no idea. When you came down from the sky in Texas and saved that little girl at gunpoint, mothers all across the United States were crying for you."

The host pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. "Everyone's curious. Where exactly did you come from? How are you so powerful?"

John looked into the camera, his eyes clear and sincere. "I'm just an ordinary boy, like everyone else. If there's anything different about me, it's that I was lucky enough to be given this responsibility. Vought International gave me the chance to grow, and my guardian, Lynn, taught me how to love this world."

Standing out of the camera's view, Lynn's gaze sharpened slightly at those words.

His name hadn't been in the script.

But the audience clearly loved it.

Warm, moved applause immediately rose from the seats.

"Wow. Then he must be an incredible father," the host replied with a smile.

"Yes. He's the best person in the world."

John smiled as well, his gaze sweeping unobtrusively toward Lynn beyond the camera.

Over the next ten minutes, John's fluent answers amounted to a textbook PR performance.

He had both the innocent humor befitting an eight-year-old and a sense of responsibility and maturity far beyond his peers.

He even volunteered a few amusing stories about raising his golden retriever, Buddy, at the estate, drawing repeated laughter from the audience.

What had begun as a somewhat probing interview turned entirely into a fan meet-and-greet for "Homelander."

As the show drew to a close, the host stood and shook John's hand excitedly. "Thank you, John. Thank you for coming here tonight, and thank you for everything you've done for us."

John nodded with a smile, then rose lightly into the air before everyone's eyes, hovering half a meter above the floor.

"I'll always be here for you."

With those closing words, the entire audience rose to its feet and erupted in thunderous applause.

Lynn stood in the shadows, watching the radiant boy beneath the spotlight accept the worship of mortals like a god descended to earth.

He knew very well that, starting tonight, the name "Homelander" would be indelibly branded into the world's memory.

Their protective talisman had finally been fully forged amid those deafening cheers.

The Lincoln glided steadily along the sea bridge back to Long Island.

Outside the windows lay Manhattan's dazzling nightscape, while inside the car, the only sound was the faint friction of the tires.

John had taken off his signature Stars and Stripes suit and changed into comfortable cotton casual clothes.

Once he left the studio spotlights, the bright, flawless smile on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a calm and indifference beyond his years.

He leaned against the leather seat, his blue eyes watching the streetlights race past outside, his gaze deep.

"Well done."

Lynn took a bottle of still mineral water from the car's refrigerator, unscrewed the cap, and handed it over. "The PR department's phones have been ringing off the hook. The ratings are cause for celebration."

John accepted the bottle and took a sip. Only when he turned to Lynn did the coldness in his eyes thaw a little. "Those people screaming in the audience were loud. Their heartbeats, their breathing, and the smell of all that sweat they produced from excitement mixed together and made me feel a little sick."

Lynn smiled. He knew this was the downside of the superhuman senses Compound V provided.

The frenzied fans ordinary people saw were like countless squawking ducks to John's superhuman hearing and sense of smell.

"Bear with it. This is a necessary part of the process."

Lynn leaned back against his seat and looked into the boy's eyes. "But you went off script onstage today. You shouldn't have mentioned me in front of tens of millions of viewers."

John lowered his head and looked at the transparent water bottle in his hands. His fingers tightened slightly, and the bottle gave a faint creak as the plastic deformed.

"I did it on purpose, Lynn."