What Father Wouldn't Want to Pass the Spotlight to His Son?

The conference room fell quiet. The door had already closed.

The Deep had fled the fastest, followed by Translucent. Before leaving, Maeve had glanced back at Soldier Boy.

Only two people remained in the spacious conference room. Homelander stood while Soldier Boy sat.

Soldier Boy lit a cigarette. "Something on your mind?"

Homelander was silent for a few seconds, then answered in a very serious tone, "Yes."

Soldier Boy raised an eyebrow. Homelander rarely spoke in that tone.

Most of the time, he was either putting on an act or threatening someone. Only on very rare occasions did he reveal genuine emotion.

Homelander stood there for a long time, his fingers pinching the edge of his suit, seemingly considering how to begin.

Soldier Boy smiled. The kid seemed a little nervous.

Like a little boy asking his father a question, afraid both that his father wouldn't answer and that his question would sound too stupid.

"It's about Black Noir," Homelander finally said, sounding a little guilty.

Yet the urge to kill Black Noir grew even stronger in his heart.

Soldier Boy exhaled a mouthful of smoke and looked at his foolish, fortunate son.

Sure enough, after all that circling around, they had come back to this.

Homelander said slowly:

"I don't understand!"

"He betrayed you. He knew you were my father, but he kept it from me all along. Black Noir lied to me for decades. He even took part in the operation against you."

His voice grew quieter, filled with incomprehension. "Why would you let him go?"

Silence settled over the conference room.

Soldier Boy looked at him and realized that Homelander's expression wasn't so much angry as confused.

It was genuine, heartfelt confusion. He truly couldn't understand.

In Homelander's worldview, the framework for relationships was simple.

People who liked him and made him happy = good people.

People he hated and who made him unhappy = bad people.

Bad people = deserved to die.

This was the logic Homelander had developed from childhood. The researchers had made him suffer, so the researchers deserved to die.

Marty had humiliated him, so Marty deserved to die. People who betrayed him deserved death all the more.

There was nothing wrong with that. It was how a god should act.

Black Noir met every condition. Even death by a thousand cuts wouldn't have been excessive, so Homelander simply couldn't understand why Soldier Boy would let Black Noir go.

Soldier Boy fell silent for a moment, then suddenly asked, "What about me?"

Homelander froze for a moment. "What?"

"If I hurt you one day, what would you do?" Soldier Boy exhaled smoke.

"No, you wouldn't." Homelander frowned, instinctively objecting.

Then he began trying to imagine that happening.

If Soldier Boy betrayed him, would he deserve to die?

The corners of Homelander's mouth turned down. He felt completely unable to bear it. Rather than answer the question directly, he stressed:

"You're different."

"You're the only person in the world who's almost as strong as I am. I'm your flesh and blood."

Soldier Boy stared at the slightly panicked Homelander, an unpleasant feeling stirring inside him.

Homelander didn't even dare think deeply about the possibility of him betraying him.

However powerful he was, his psyche was ultimately warped and starved of love.

That wasn't his fault.

While Soldier Boy had been experimented on in the Soviet Union, the newborn Homelander had also been subjected to experiments.

Homelander's twisted perceptions couldn't be changed overnight. It would have to happen slowly.

Soldier Boy knew full well that he was the lever that could move Homelander toward change.

The laboratory survivors released yesterday were an example.

It wasn't that Homelander had changed, but that he had begun to care about Soldier Boy's feelings.

That was enough.

Vought had never taught Homelander restraint, patience, empathy, or responsibility. He would teach him. It wasn't too late.

"Do you know what the biggest difference between you and normal people is?" Soldier Boy asked.

Homelander looked up, his expression blank and a little hurt.

Even my father says I'm not normal?

As his thoughts ran wild, Soldier Boy's voice reached him.

"When you're around ordinary people, all you think about is whether they've made you happy or unhappy."

"If they make you happy, you keep them. If they don't, you kill them. Just like a three-year-old."

A vein throbbed on Homelander's forehead. Had anyone else said that, their head would already have gone flying.

But the one saying it was Soldier Boy, so he merely scowled.

He wanted to argue, but his mouth opened and closed without a word, because everything Soldier Boy said was true.

"Fine." Homelander forcibly suppressed his anger and nodded. "You're all normal. I'm not."

"And I don't need to be."

His tone was aggrieved, like an abandoned child.

"But don't worry." Soldier Boy patted Homelander on the shoulder. "I'll teach a pussy like you to be a real man like me."

Homelander's wandering gaze went still.

Teach me?

For some reason, he felt a pang of sadness. This guidance had come far too late. He believed he had slowly figured everything out on his own.

No one had understood the loneliness and darkness along his path. Now, suddenly, someone ahead was holding a lamp, turning back to tell him, "Keep up, kid. I'll clear the way for you."

His feelings were complicated. He wanted to cry and get sentimental, but feared Soldier Boy would call him a sissy. He immediately sought an excuse to leave:

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll go arrange a room for you."

Watching Homelander's retreating back, Soldier Boy seemed to remember something. "One more thing."

"If Vought asks me to become the center of public attention again, I'll refuse."

Homelander stopped and turned his head slightly, looking somewhat puzzled.

"What father wouldn't want to pass the spotlight to his son?" Soldier Boy said.

Homelander was stunned. Then he quickened his steps, leaving the Seven's Private Conference Room as though fleeing.

His eyes had reddened. If he walked any slower, the tears would fall.

That was close. I almost got called a pussy again.

Outside the door, Homelander smiled through the tears in his eyes.

It wasn't the perfect commercial smile Vought had designed, but a rare smile that came from the heart.

Edgar sat in the president's office and signed his name on the Share Transfer Agreement.

The corners of his eyes twitched.

To a capitalist, Vought was his flesh and blood. Soldier Boy had adamantly demanded his shares within seven days, leaving Edgar no choice but to surrender some of his own.

Keeping Soldier Boy appeased was the immediate priority.

As long as the V Plan successfully launched, he would recover everything he had lost sooner or later.

Edgar summoned his assistant. "Take this to Soldier Boy. Tell him the shares will be his once he signs."

The assistant nodded in acknowledgment.

"Oh, and one more thing." Edgar stopped her. "Make sure you tell Soldier Boy where the signature section is."

Soldier Boy was a military man. It was normal for him to be illiterate.

Better to explain it clearly in advance, lest he come make trouble again.

The assistant left, suppressing a smile.

Edgar rose from his chair and tapped rhythmically on the wall.

With a click, a compartment hidden in the wall opened.

Inside, three small glass vials identical to those used for Compound V were neatly arranged.

The vials were marked with a Black V.

Unlike the pale blue of authentic Compound V, the liquid inside was slightly darker.

Under the moonlight, the liquid actually gave off a faint red glow.

Edgar pondered for a long time, then picked up one of the vials and, taking the V Plan dossier with him, left Vought International Tower and stepped into the night.