Queen Maeve!

Solomon had been right there when Madelyn came to see her and Homelander.

With Homelander's flying speed, he would certainly have arrived long before then. How could they possibly have gotten there too late?

She had never expected Solomon to deduce the truth from such tiny details, let alone dare to say it to her face.

"Aren't you afraid I'll tell Homelander about this? You'll die a horrible death."

Solomon scoffed, his tone relaxed.

"You won't tell him. After all, you can't stand him either, can you? Otherwise, you'd still be standing in the square, spouting all that hypocritical bullshit alongside him, instead of hiding out here to escape it."

Maeve's expression instantly turned serious. Her eyes locked onto Solomon, a hint of warning in her voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'll pretend I never heard any of that. You'd better watch what you say from now on, especially in front of Homelander."

As she spoke, she instinctively glanced toward the square. Homelander was still onstage, putting on a show of mourning, and had not noticed them.

Solomon gently patted her shoulder, his tone softening a little.

"Don't worry. I know where to draw the line. If you need someone to talk to, to ease some of the guilt and pain inside, you can come to me anytime. After all, Homelander told me to stick with you these next few days. I've got plenty of time."

Taking advantage of the pat on her shoulder, Solomon secretly activated his Memory Reading ability, trying to sense Maeve's thoughts.

In an instant, countless emotions flooded his mind: her deep regret over her own actions, her anger and dissatisfaction with Homelander, her guilt toward the passengers who had died, and a trace of curiosity and wariness toward Solomon himself.

Solomon did not dare linger too long and quickly withdrew his hand, inwardly putting himself on guard. If Homelander saw him having too much contact with Maeve, that man's extreme possessiveness might send him into a rage on the spot and make him tear Solomon's arm off.

At this point, Homelander regarded Maeve as his exclusive possession and would not tolerate anyone coveting her.

Maeve glanced at him without a word, then turned her head again, returning her gaze to the river in the distance.

Solomon did not speak again to disturb her. He watched the river with her, but his mind raced as he worked out how to get Maeve to reveal what Black Noir was allergic to.

Ten minutes later, Homelander appeared nearby. Feigning surprise, he called out to Solomon:

"Translucent! What are you doing here too? I thought you'd gone back."

Solomon hurriedly stood up, inwardly rolling his eyes hard.

Why bother pretending? You were the one who told him to follow Maeve, and now you're acting surprised.

He forced a faint smile, his tone respectful:

"I saw that Ms. Maeve wasn't feeling too good, so I came over to talk with her for a bit. I'll leave you two to it."

With that, he turned and left without the slightest hesitation, quickly walking into the shade of a nearby tree. He watched Homelander and Maeve talk from a distance, not daring to get too close.

He could see Maeve's expression gradually soften as they spoke. The pain and guilt on her face seemed to ease considerably.

Of course, that was only how it looked. The wounds inside were not something a few words could heal.

After talking for ten minutes or so, the two headed toward the square together and returned to the memorial service.

They continued playing compassionate superheroes, comforting the grief-stricken families of the victims and offering those hollow, hypocritical words of encouragement.