Chapter 136: A Loving Family
Vought International private area—a secret community in Maryland,
Inside a cozy, white single-story detached house, Becca Butcher rested her chin on her hand, swirling the red wine in her glass as she stared blankly at the bright green scenery outside.
She wore a loose short-sleeved shirt with a low neckline; the curves of her chest filled out the fabric, rising and falling slightly with her breath.
On her lower body, she wore knee-length denim shorts that tightly hugged her mid-thighs and ended just above her knees, revealing her calves.
Her hips rested on the cushion of a high chair, her bare feet tapping and tip-toeing as she leaned against the open kitchen counter.
Her classic Western features, enhanced by her motherhood, were more mellow than the red wine.
Her blonde hair hung loosely over her shoulders, slightly curled at the ends. A few stray strands clung to her neck, dampened by the moisture drawn out by the warm indoor light.
"Mom, can you come play foosball with me?"
A boy with a well-behaved, somewhat timid appearance ran downstairs clutching several toy soldiers.
"Go read your science journals, Ryan. Mommy will play with you in a bit."
Becca took a sip of red wine, the liquid flowing into her mouth and staining her lips a deep crimson.
She shifted her position, her rear lifting slightly off the cushion before settling back down.
The cushion dipped beneath her, letting out a muffled squelch.
"Aw... but I want you to play with me now."
Ryan muttered unhappily, his lips pouting slightly.
"Be good. Mommy is only happy when she's drinking right now. You wouldn't want Mommy to be unhappy, would you?"
Becca said softly to her son, a slight curve appearing at the corners of her mouth.
Since giving birth to Ryan, she had reached an agreement with Vought International: in exchange for being allowed to raise her son, they would ensure his safety and keep him hidden from Homelander.
In other words, her life was under house arrest here, and Ryan was her cage.
A fleeting look of resentment toward the boy flashed in her eyes, but it was quickly suppressed by a surge of maternal love.
Becca turned back and ignored him, her gaze falling on the artificially green, sprinkler-fed lawn outside.
"Oh."
Ryan nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite. He turned around, glancing—perhaps unintentionally, perhaps not—at Becca's feet before heading upstairs. As he turned, his Adam's apple bobbed as if he were swallowing something.
Becca was oblivious to this, her finger tracing circles around the rim of her glass.
"I wonder how Billy is doing..."
Her eyes held a hint of longing, the corners of her eyes flushed with a thick, hazy red.
"That troublemaking bastard hasn't been heard from in a long time, but I also need..."
Her gaze shifted to the red wine bottle, and she licked her lips.
"I'll wait until Ryan is asleep... No... it's fine... he doesn't understand anything anyway."
Becca couldn't wait any longer; the urge to relieve herself surged from her lower abdomen, heavy and bloated, as if something were dragging down.
She picked up the wine bottle, hooked her finger through the neck, stood up, and stumbled toward the bathroom to clear things out.
Suddenly, a whistling sound came from outside, as if something had plummeted from the sky, tearing a hole through the air.
Becca was startled, instantly sobering up. Her eyelids flew open, her pupils constricted, and the misty haze vanished from her eyes as if she'd been doused with cold water.
She adjusted her grip on the wine bottle, walked slowly to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.
Two men stood outside—one on the road in front of the door, and the other in the shadows of a row of oak trees.
One was blonde, the other black-haired.
Becca would never forget the appearance of one of them—the red and blue suit she would always remember, the demon who had ruined her life.
"Homelander..."
Becca's expression went blank, the color draining from her face. Her hand lost its strength, and the wine bottle fell, shattering on the ground.
Glass shards exploded around her feet as the cold wine pooled around them.
At the same time, Ryan, who was playing with his Funny Magic Wand inside, also heard the noise from downstairs.
The curiosity and childish wonder on his face instantly vanished in fright. His fingers snapped away from the wand, and he hurriedly stuffed the wand's maintenance sleeve under the covers before rushing downstairs.
The stairs thudded beneath his feet; the handrail slid past his hand, but he didn't grab it.
Once down, he ran straight toward the half-open door and saw his mother arguing with two adults he had never seen before.
"Ryan is mine! They promised they would give us an environment free from the interference of bastards like you! They promised!"
"Okay, okay, calm down."
Although Homelander looked somewhat helpless, he suppressed his impatience and raised his hands to calm her, considering who this woman was.
But then he spotted Ryan at the door and immediately broke into a joyful grin.
"Ryan!"
"Mom, what's happening?" Ryan asked. He recognized this man as the superhero he admired immensely, but he still chose to stand by his mother to protect her.
At his voice, Becca whipped her head around.
"Oh, baby." She quickly pulled him into her arms.
"Why are they here?"
Ryan looked up at Becca. Whether it was psychological or not, he felt a sense of familiarity from Homelander.
"Uh, they..."
Becca looked at Ryan, then at the two men, trying to concoct a lie. Colleagues? Friends? Or just strangers who had the wrong house?
However, she watched in horror as the man accompanying Homelander grinned wickedly, a chilling bloody light glowing at his fingertips, aimed right at the oblivious Ryan.
His other hand raised an index finger to his lips.
"Shh—"
Becca's jaw trembled, her tongue moving dryly in her mouth, but she didn't speak.
Anyone who was with Homelander was definitely a villain, and this villain didn't seem to care about her son's life at all.
Driven by some inexplicable impulse, she turned a pleading gaze toward Homelander.
Homelander didn't even look at her as he pulled Ryan out of her arms with a mix of firmness and gentleness.
"Hey, boy! Do you know who I am?"
He spoke softly, struggling to contain his excitement as if afraid of scaring something away.
"You're Homelander."
Ryan first showed an expression of joy, the corners of his mouth turning up and his eyes crinkling, just like any child his age seeing a hero from TV.
Then his smile froze, replaced by nervousness.
His shoulders hunched slightly.
"Are you here to hurt me and Mommy?"
"Of course not... Hahaha..."
Amused and exasperated, Homelander patted him on the shoulder.
"Ryan, go back inside the house..."
Becca took a step forward, reaching out her arm. Just as her fingers were about to touch Ryan's sleeve,
Green grabbed one of her arms.
"Maybe we should make this family reunion a bit more heartwarming, shall we, Mrs. Butcher?"
Green said, dragging her into the house despite her protests.
Her bare heels scraped against the ground as she was dragged forward by his strength, stumbling along. Her heels were rubbed raw, and blood seeped from the wounds.
"Ah—what are you doing? Let me go!" Becca's other hand clawed at the doorframe.
"Green, you should call her Mrs. John. She's my wife," Homelander corrected him bluntly, his voice light.
"I know, I know."
Green grabbed her other hand as well.
He gripped both her wrists together in one hand, dragging her like a disobedient white pig. Bloody footprints left a thin red trail on the floor, stretching from the doorway all the way to the living room.
"No! Mom!"
Ryan tried to stop them, stepping forward and reaching out his hand, fingers splayed as if to grab something. A red light flared in his eyes.
"Shh, shh—calm down, calm down. Don't worry, he won't hurt your mother. He's a good friend of mine."
Homelander did his best to soothe him. He was even more delighted when he saw the movement in Ryan's eyes and his increasing struggle.
"What do you want to do to me and Mommy?" Ryan turned and questioned Homelander loudly.
"What do we want to do?"
Homelander retracted his neck slightly in amusement, causing his double chin to bulge.
"To make your childhood more complete, of course."
His gaze turned tender as he gripped Ryan's shoulders with both hands, his palms pressed against them.
Ryan seemed to realize something as well; he calmed down and stared fixedly at Homelander.
Homelander took a deep breath, trying to make his voice sound normal.
"Ryan, I am your father."
Chapter 137: Becca's Liberation Day
"What exactly do you want?! I've already done what you asked. I need to make a phone call..."
Becca, having been dragged through the door, endured the pain in the soles of her feet. Her toes curled and her heels hovered, not daring to step down firmly.
She made a move to pick up the phone, her fingers breaking free from Green's palm, her fingertips reaching for the receiver.
"Why must you be so stubborn?"
Green waited until she had picked up the phone and dialed. Only when the receiver was pressed to her ear and the long dial tone drifted out did he unhurriedly snatch it away.
He hooked his fingers into the gap between the receiver and the handle, giving it a gentle tug, and the cord slipped through her fingers.
"Give it back to me!"
Becca pressed closer and shouted angrily.
Green held it high; she couldn't reach it at all.
Her head didn't even reach Green's chest; her forehead only came up to his abdomen, and her nose caught a whiff of a rank stench.
"Fuck you!"
Becca was no pushover. She had married the hot-tempered Billy Butcher and had kept him firmly under her thumb after their marriage.
She bent down, pulled open a cabinet, and ran her fingers over the knife rack. Feeling a fruit knife, she gripped the handle and held it out in front of her, the tip pointing forward.
"Give me the phone! I won't say it a second time."
She stared at Green with a dark expression.
"Wow, how terrifying."
Green walked closer calmly. Becca hesitated and slowly backed away.
A long-term soft environment has a deep impact on a person. If it were the old her, she would have stabbed the other person's heart without hesitation, thrusting the blade between the ribs, twisting it upward, and then pulling it out.
But now...
Thud!
Her back hit the edge of the kitchen counter, the marble surface digging into her waist.
Her expression turned fierce.
She could still do it now!!
Holding the knife with a forehand grip, she thrust her arm forward, pushing the tip from her waist toward Green's abdomen, only for it to be caught in his hand.
Then, under her shocked gaze, the stainless steel fruit knife was crumpled in his hand like modeling clay into a piece of scrap metal.
"You... you're a Supe too!" She let go of the handle.
"Something like that, but I prefer the term'Superhuman'."
Green casually let go of the blade. The knife fell to the floor and was stepped over by him.
He took a step forward, the soles of his boots crushing the wad of scrap metal as he closed in on Becca, pinning her against the edge of the kitchen counter.
His shadow loomed over her from behind, blocking out all her light.
Strong male pheromones overwhelmed Becca, leaving her mind in a daze. Her breath was filled with his scent—tobacco, leather, and something else she couldn't quite name.
But her maternal instinct kept her holding on. She bit her lower lip until it turned white, staring at him. The trace of daze in her pupils was suppressed, leaving only a thin layer of stubbornness.
"You... I will never let you interfere with our lives! Not even if I die!!"
"Heh."
Green burst into a short laugh. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his trouser pocket, smoothed it out with his fingers, and opened it.
"Who said I wanted to interfere with your lives?"
He held the paper up in front of her face, tapping his fingertip on the surface.
"Now, let's get our stories straight. The more you cooperate, the sooner this will be over."
"No, no, what are you doing?! No no no, no—!!"
Beep—
The call connected.
"Hello? Is there something you need, Ms. Becca?"
On the other end, the staff member in charge listened with an innocent expression to the strange yet familiar sounds coming from the other side.
"Diarrhea? Or... no way, the subject under surveillance seems like quite a dignified woman."
He tucked his headset deeper into his ear and turned up the volume.
"Ms. Becca, excuse me... are you... in the bathroom? Do you need us to send you some medicine?"
There seemed to be a gap, and Becca's voice came through, sounding as if she were suppressing distress, intermittent and strained.
"No... no need, I'll be fine in a moment... e-e-e... in a moment."
"Uh... alright then."
The staff member listened with a complicated expression as the call ended. The hang-up was very sudden, a 'beep' sound like something had been cut off.
To be precise, the phone wasn't waterproof.
He put down the headset and tapped his fingers on the table twice, then twice more, but his heart inexplicably felt a rootless heat.
That heat surged up from his chest, like something was burning in his blood vessels, making his mouth dry and his palms sweat.
He tugged at his tie. It strangled his neck, leaving a red mark, but he didn't loosen it.
He unconsciously looked at the female colleague beside him.
She was chewing on a gummy candy, her cheeks puffing in and out, her lips stained with sugar powder.
Thoughts of a crush he already had began to frantically sprout into a dark territory.
The idea emerged from his mind like something growing out of his body, wrapping tighter and tighter, denser and denser.
A flash of infatuated bloodshot color passed through his eyes.
Desires in the cerebral cortex grew out of the folds like parasites, crawling through the sulci, through the lobes, and through every nerve ending, gnawing away his reason bit by bit.
His thoughts began to muddle. His fingers stopped tapping the table, his legs stopped shaking, and his whole body was like a machine that had been paused, frozen there, with only his eyeballs moving.
"What?"
The female colleague, bored and chewing her gummy, looked at him strangely, sensing something was wrong. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing slightly.
"What's wrong with that lucky lady again? Do you need me to turn on the real-time camera over there to take a look?"
"You're so beautiful..."
"Hehe, thanks."
The woman smiled, but it was just a polite smile, followed by an eye roll. She thought something was actually wrong.
"You're not my type, and I have a boyfriend. We're getting married next month."
She shook her head speechlessly, rejecting him politely, and casually showed off the diamond ring on her left ring finger. The ring was small, and the diamond wasn't large, but a hint of happiness couldn't help but appear on her face.
However, this happiness was too blinding for the operator.
"I don't care!!"
The operator lunged directly at her.
The chair was knocked over by him, its wheels spinning in the air.
His fingers dug into her shoulders, his nails sinking into her clothes, as he pinned her to the table.
The keyboard slid off the desk and crashed to the floor, several keycaps flying off. In her terrified eyes, he...
"Aaaah!!"
The woman's scream exploded from her throat.
"Holy shit!!"
"What are you doing, Stephen!"
"Pull him off! Quickly!"
"That's my fiancée!! Aaaah!!!"
People at other workstations turned their heads. Some stood up and ran over to stop him, some had already picked up the phone, and some were more direct—stun guns, oh, and rifles.
Clearly, a certain candidate for the Demon Lord of Lust had unknowingly infected the other party through the medium of the telephone.
At the same time, Ryan, who was being held outside by a word from Homelander, also heard the strange cries of his mother from inside the house.
"Mom!"
He hurriedly ran back, gripping the doorframe and peeking inside. He caught a glimpse of something, his eyes suddenly widening and his mouth falling open, completely stunned.
"No, no..."
Before he could look more, Homelander yanked him back and carried him out to the courtyard.
"What are they doing? Why is my mom..." Ryan looked up at Homelander, questioning him anxiously.
"It's okay, okay?"
Homelander squatted down to eye level with him, his palm resting on the boy's head, gently stroking it.
"Your mom is sick, and Daddy's good friend is giving her an injection."
"Then why is it the butt..."
"It's a butt shot. Haven't you ever had one?" Homelandercut him off, afraid he would ask more.
"Have I?"
Ryan's little head stalled. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed. Could he get a shot like that too?
Unconsciously, a strange seed was planted deep in Ryan's heart, waiting for the right time to sprout.
"Green! Don't get the house too dirty. This is my home now!" Homelander didn't forget to shout back.
"Don't worry, I came in through the back door. I didn't get the floor dirty."
Green said lazily, in stark contrast to the agitated Becca. He was even somewhat helpless; how long had this woman been unsatisfied? This was just the beginning.
"See? Daddy wouldn't lie to you. Daddy's good friend is a man of absolute character."
Homelander smiled and patted the back of Ryan's neck.
"Are you really my dad?" Ryan stepped back half a pace, his gaze scanning Homelander's face.
Homelander didn't answer immediately, just looked at him.
A few seconds later, he suddenly curled the corners of his mouth.
"I'll show you something."
He reached into the inner side of his golden belt, his fingers fumbling around for a while. The metal buckles made a faint clinking sound.
"Fuck, it's so tight." He cursed softly, and with a hard pull of his knuckles, he finally fished out the phone.
"Oh oh oh oh... Yes—!!"
A high-pitched cry suddenly erupted from inside the house, the long trailing sound tangling together, making it impossible to tell if it was pleasure or pain.
Homelander's eyelid twitched. He glanced in that direction, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.
But he quickly withdrew his gaze. When he turned back to face Ryan, the curve of his lips had returned to that warm expression.
"You need to be prepared, my boy."
He placed his hand on Ryan's shoulder, his palm thick and warm, slowly tightening.
Ryan's Adam's apple bobbed. He pulled his gaze back from the half-ajar door inside the house, met Homelander's eyes, and nodded.
Homelander turned on the phone.
The screen lit up. It wasn't locked. As soon as he swiped, a video began playing. It was surveillance footage from a fixed camera angle.
The scene was a private lounge in a hotel, with warm, dim lighting.
A man with a rugged, fleshy face was wearing a well-tailored dark suit, his tie hanging loosely.
He held Becca's shoulder with one hand, his fingers sinking into her skin, while his other hand pushed open the door.
Becca was half-pushed and half-led inside, her steps stumbling. She raised the back of her hand to wipe her face, and under the light, a wet, glistening patch could be seen at the corner of her eye.
The man's profile turned toward the camera.
It was Billy Butcher.
Chapter 138: The Pitiful Superman Father and Son
"Mom... is crying?" Ryan stared fixedly at the screen, his lips trembling slightly.
"Yes." Homelander's voice squeezed out from the depths of his throat, carrying a hint of a tremor.
He turned his face away, pressing his palm against his eyes. His knuckles were white from the pressure, and his shoulders twitched with restraint, as if he were desperately holding back an emotion on the verge of bursting.
"He... he raped your mother..."
The last few words were almost spat out through gritted teeth, his voice trailing off with a sob, his grief and indignation perfectly pitched.
"Rape?" Ryan repeated the unfamiliar word, not quite understanding its meaning, but the sight of Homelandermade his chest feel tight, as if something were blocking it.
"It means... forcing your mother to do things she doesn't want to do," Homelander took a deep breath, seemingly calming his emotions, his voice raspy.
"Very, very bad things."
"Is it like what's happening in the house?" Ryan suddenly asked.
Inside the house, the battle was raging fiercely. Wave after wave of cries rang out, as if releasing years of trepidation and loneliness, so unrestrained they were almost undisguised.
Homelander's expression froze for a split second, the corner of his eye twitching slightly, but he quickly returned to normal.
"Of course not." His tone softened, carrying a patient, guiding quality.
"Your mother is voluntarily receiving treatment. She is very ill; she just didn't want you to worry, so she's been pushing through it."
"I see." Ryan nodded, seemingly understanding yet still confused, his gaze lingering on Homelander's face as if seeking confirmation.
"Then... will he come often to treat Mom?"
"If you want, he can come every day." Homelander looked at him seriously, his gaze certain and warm.
"Dad promises!"
"Then is Mother happy?"
"Of course!"
Homelander blurted it out almost as a reflex.
He knew Green's "capabilities" all too well.
That bastard even had a full-body portrait of himself—the Emperor's New Clothes version—on the nightstand of that duplicitous woman Maeve, and she was even the female lead in it.
Clearly, every time they met, Maeve had a face full of disgust, wishing she could stay miles away from him...
"I mean this." Ryan pointed at the frozen frame on the screen, his eyes very serious.
"What?"
Homelander's eyes shifted slightly as he looked at Ryan in surprise. His nose twitched as if he were rapidly adjusting his wording.
"No!" His tone was suddenly resolute, but then, as if realizing something, his voice softened with a cautious deliberation.
"Uh... I mean... a little bit, but!" He leaned down to look Ryan in the eye, his gaze pressing down heavily.
"Do you want to see your mom being hurt by a bad man like this?"
"Never!"
Ryan suddenly became emotional, his small face tightening. A flash of ruthlessness crossed his features; in that moment, he looked subtly similar to Homelander.
"Mom is mine!"
His voice was tight, his fists clenched, as if defending something inviolable.
"Of course, of course." The corners of Homelander's mouth curled up slightly before he quickly pulled them back. He placed his palm gently against Ryan's cheek, his thumb lightly stroking his cheekbone.
"Mom won't leave you, and I won't leave you either!"
His voice was low and certain.
"He is a bad man!" Ryan stared at Butcher's profile on the screen, defining the man one word at a time.
He turned to look at Homelander. Much of the wariness in his eyes had faded, replaced by a cautious dependence, as if confirming that this person could truly be trusted.
Perhaps it was because he had gone too long without someone to rely on, or because the aura of a superhero surrounding Homelander was too dazzling, or perhaps... he just needed a father too much.
Ryan's gaze fell on Homelander's face; that empty space in his heart was being filled bit by bit.
"Yes, I hid you both just so he wouldn't find your location."
Homelander sighed, his voice carrying a weary tenderness, like a father burdened with too many secrets who had finally set down a bit of the weight.
"Is that so... How hateful!"
Ryan stared intently at the frozen image on the screen, his pupils constricting as if to engrave every inch of the man's silhouette into his memory.
He clenched his fists. He wanted to destroy him, to break him like a pile of blocks—cleanly, decisively, leaving nothing behind.
"But—"
Homelander suddenly spoke, his tone taking a sharp turn.
"Adult matters will be settled by adults."
He stood up steadily, habitually putting his hands on his hips. He turned slightly and tilted his chin up, striking a standard hero pose.
"Whoa~~" Ryan looked up, his eyes sparkling.
He looked up at Homelander like that, and a feeling of fullness slowly rose in his chest, warm and accompanied by a strange flutter.
It wasn't the same as the peace he felt when looking at his mother's feet, nor was it the same as the racing heart he felt when being swung by that uncle while getting injections... and yet, it seemed the same.
It all made him feel comfortable.
"Sorry, Son."
Homelander looked down at Ryan's face, his voice light and slow.
"I've been absent from your life for so long, but Dad will protect you from now on."
"Mm!!" Ryan nodded heavily.
"Aaaaaah—!!"
While the father and son were having their heartfelt moment, Becca inside had already entered the third stage.
The sound pitched up an octave, turning into a strange noise that sounded like both crying and laughing.
"Don't disturb your mother's treatment." Homelandersmiled knowingly, reaching out to rest his hand on the back of Ryan's head, the warmth of his palm transferring through the hair.
"Surgical detoxification takes a long time. Let's go get some KFC, then go to the amusement park."
"Oh, okay." Ryan glanced back, his steps a little hesitant.
He actually really wanted to watch for a bit longer.
"Hehe, treatment is sacred; it shouldn't be interrupted." Homelander gently turned his head back.
"Can't I watch?" Ryan asked.
"I'll ask the Doctor uncle for you later," Homelandercoaxed.
"Oh~"
Ryan responded, but his gaze had already drifted elsewhere. He added absentmindedly, "Are we ordering delivery?"
"Of course not. By the time it arrives, the skin will be soft."
Homelander chuckled. He suddenly leaned down and scooped Ryan up in his arms.
Ryan's body instinctively tensed for a moment before relaxing. His small hands gripped Homelander's collar with a mix of nervousness and irrepressible anticipation.
"Takeoff!"
Homelander shouted, his knees bending slightly.
The ground in the courtyard exploded into a shallow crater with a "bang," sending gravel flying.
The two figures shot upward like an arrow, vanishing into the clouds in an instant.
The figures were gone, but the sound still drifted in the air, trailing a long string of excited screams.
The noise didn't finally quiet down until the Sun began to sink in the west.
On the kitchen counter, Becca's head was slumped into the sink, her shoulders heaving.
Her hair was scattered messily by the faucet, with a few strands soaked in the standing water, creating dark patches.
The first treatment process was always intense and unfamiliar.
Fortunately, Doctor Green's skills were superb.
It hurt—it hurt so much she once thought she would die on that counter.
But within that pain, something else was wrapped, like a red-hot iron wire, sewing up the life-worse-than-death loneliness of these past years, stitch by stitch.
Becca closed her eyes, the corners of her mouth curving slightly.
She had already become one of his most loyal patients.
And she didn't seem to hate that fact herself.
"I really am a bad wife..."
"You should return to your role, Mrs. John."
Green glanced at her indifferently.
"Yes~~ Becca will be obedient."
Becca braced herself against the edge of the sink, her knees trembling slightly, her voice trailing off with a soft, upward lilt.
"Very good."
Green withdrew his gaze, the corner of his mouth twitching imperceptibly.
The taming was complete; he could leave the rest to Homelander.
After all, nominally, Becca had been replaced from Billy Butcher's wife to Mrs. John. During this period, Green had already distorted her perception.
Crack!
Green twisted open a bottle of beer. A burst of white foam surged from the mouth, sticking to his knuckles. It felt sticky, so he shook it off, a few drops of foam splashing onto the floor.
He wandered through the house casually, turning off the electromagnetic jammer along the way.
Before coming, he had "reminded"—no, more accurately, "notified"—Edgar, but he figured the old fox had already mapped out the situation here perfectly.
Sure enough, as soon as the jammer was turned off, his phone vibrated.
Green raised an eyebrow and looked down at the screen. It was actually an invitation to a family dinner.
"As expected of an old schemer, he can really keep his cool."
He scoffed and took a sip of the beer.
In truth, he had been prepared for the other party to turn hostile; after all, he was strong enough.
It wasn't that he wanted a seat at the table; it was that only those he allowed to eat would have anything to eat.
But he was satisfied with the result.
Then the upcoming family dinner would be a "meeting" that satisfied both parties, provided Green was willing to go.
Was he willing?
Of course, he liked playing with smart people.
Beer bottle in hand, Green unhurriedly went up to the second floor.
Becca's bedroom door was slightly ajar. He pushed it open and scanned the room.
Several bottles of red wine sat on the nightstand, with some condensation pooled at their bases.
Next to them stood a picture frame—an intimate photo of Becca and Butcher, leaning against each other and smiling brightly.
Green casually flipped the frame over, face down on the table with a light thud.
Then he walked toward Ryan's room.
He pushed open the door; the blankets were piled messily on the bed.
Green reached in and felt around deep within the blankets, his fingertips touching some soft fabric.
"Oh my."
He pulled a white sock from the blankets. The cuff was slightly curled, and there were a few faint grey marks on the bottom, as if it had been repeatedly rubbed.
Green held the sock, twirling it between his fingers with a playful smile.
"Ryan—"
"You really love your mother."
Chapter 139: Embarrassment, Foot Fetish
When the two, having played for the whole afternoon, returned to face the setting sun, Ryan immediately spotted Becca waiting at the door.
She was standing behind the lounge chair, leaning over, her fingers digging into Green Morgan's shoulder, kneading slowly and steadily.
Green Morgan was leaning back, legs crossed leisurely, eyes narrowed.
"Mom!"
Ryan happily raised the toy in his hand and waved it at her, his voice as bright as a little trumpet.
Becca lifted her eyes, her gaze falling on him first, pausing for a moment, and then, passing right over him.
"Darling—"
She stepped forward quickly, her skirt creating a gust of wind, and pressed straight against Homelander. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. The moment their lips met, a soft sound emerged, warm, soft, and resolute.
Homelander instinctively wanted to dodge, his nose twitching slightly. He didn't smell anything unusual in her mouth; it was clean, even carrying a hint of minty coolness.
His body relaxed, his palm cupping her waist, and he lowered his head to return the kiss, his knuckles tightening, leaving a crease in the waistband of her skirt.
In the moment he turned his head to catch his breath, he looked over Becca's shoulder and shot a glance at Green Morgan.
It was approving, carrying a hint of "you know what's good for you."
Green Morgan, still with his legs crossed, unhurriedly thumped his left chest and pointed a finger at him.
Brothers are in the heart.
The Green Morgan-style therapy: a cure for every ailment.
"Mom?"
Ryan stood a few steps away, head tilted back, watching his parents hugging and kissing inseparably. The toy in his hand suddenly felt a bit superfluous.
He lowered his head and scuffed the pebbles on the ground with the toe of his shoe, not knowing where to look.
After kissing for a long while, Becca finally let go of Homelander and turned around.
"Welcome back, baby."
She bent over to ruffle Ryan's hair, her smile gentle, though her breathing was still a bit unsteady.
It was at this moment, as she bent over, that Homelander's eyes widened sharply.
The back of her pants... torn?!
His Adam's apple bobbed, and he immediately turned to glare at Green Morgan with a hostile look.
"You didn't even tell her to change!"
Green Morgan shrugged, spread his hands, and looked innocent.
"She's your wife, not mine."
Homelander gritted his back teeth.
"It's like this every time!"
"Yeah."
"What's wrong, darling?"
Becca noticed Homelander's gaze and, just as she was about to turn around in confusion, felt a force wrap around her waist.
Homelander pressed up from behind, his palm gripping her lower back, while his other hand instinctively covered the top of Ryan's head. The family of three huddled together, intimate as a painting.
"Of course, I was just thinking—our son has inherited the best of both of us." Homelander looked down at Ryan, then lifted his eyes to meet Becca's profile, a smile spreading from the corners of his eyes.
"Very handsome."
Ryan's ears burned from the compliment; he lowered his eyes, but his mouth couldn't help curling upward.
He snuck a glance at Becca. The gentle light on her face was something he hadn't seen in a long time—whole, relaxed, like a piece of porcelain put back together.
He suddenly became serious.
"Mom, I know what that man did to you. I will protect you."
"Which man? Darling?" Becca tilted her head, her tone tinged with amusement, as if she had heard some childish prattle.
"Billy Butcher."
As those four words landed, the smile on Becca's face was like it had been hit with a pause button.
She froze there, her pupils slightly dilated, as if unable to focus.
Her eyelashes began to tremble slightly, her lips pursed, then relaxed.
In those few seconds, her expression seemed to be pulled by several forces at once.
Struggle, pain, pleasure, indulgence... all surged up, intertwining, tearing tiny cracks into that gentle face.
"Mom?"
Ryan's voice grew softer, filled with unease. He watched Becca's expression crumble bit by bit, like watching something slowly shatter.
Just then, snap.
Green Morgan snapped his fingers.
"Mom is fine. You must protect Mom. That person is too terrifying; you need to kill him."
Becca's voice rang out steadily.
She blinked, and the corners of her mouth curled back into that same curve. The shell of the good mother and good wife closed seamlessly, covering up all the rotten, tangled things underneath.
"Okay." Ryan let out a breath, his shoulders slumping.
"Then is Mom feeling better?" He tilted his head back, his eyes still filled with worry.
"Uncle Green Morgan's medical skills are superb. Mom is much better." Becca stroked his face.
"Actually..." Ryan suddenly became bashful, drawing circles on the ground with his toe.
"What is it?"
"Actually, I can help Mom with the injections."
As the words fell, Becca's expression cracked again.
This time, something was struggling to break out from within.
Something maternal, instinctive, belonging to a "mother" rather than a "patient," surged in the depths of her eyes.
Snap. Another snap of the fingers.
"You are too tired today, baby."
Homelander hugged Becca from behind, his lips pressed against her ear, his voice low and soft, carrying a hypnotic rhythm.
He swayed gently, like coaxing a frightened child, his palm pressed against her waist and abdomen, warm and resolute.
"Yes... yes, that's right."
Becca's voice trembled, every word sounding like it was fighting for the power of speech against someone else. Her fingers gripped Homelander's arm.
"Go ask Uncle Doctor."
Homelander lifted his head, smiled gently at Ryan, and gestured with his chin in Green Morgan's direction.
"Okay... okay."
Ryan had been frightened by Becca's behavior just now and obeyed instinctively, turning to jog toward Green Morgan.
After running two steps, he looked back. Homelander was lowering his head to kiss Becca's forehead, his lips pressed against her skin for several seconds.
Becca leaned in his arms, eyes closed, a tear sliding from the corner of her eye.
Ryan stood where he was, watching that tear, and suddenly felt his chest being pressed by something.
Envy, no—it was jealousy.
Why was Mom in another man's arms?
That man was not him, not her son, not the person who should be closest to her. That sour, searing heat surged up from the bottom of his stomach, burning his throat tight.
"But... he is my dad."
He muttered under his breath, as if convincing himself, then turned his head and walked toward Green Morgan.
The closer he got, the slower his steps became.
The man was sitting on the lounge chair with his legs crossed, his posture lazy, looking like just an ordinary uncle passing by.
Ryan's heartbeat began to accelerate, something in his chest sinking. With every step, the trepidation grew heavier.
Finally, he stood still in front of Green Morgan, heels together, toes slightly turned inward.
"Doctor... Uncle Green..."
"Mm-hmm~"
Green Morgan raised his index finger and held it to his lips, cutting off his words.
Ryan's voice stuck in his throat.
He watched as Green Morgan's hand slowly reached into his pants pocket, but the thing he pulled out made his pupils shrink sharply.
A stack of photos of a pair of feet.
Close-ups: the curve of the arch, the joints of the ankles, the slightly curled posture of the toes.
Every one was so familiar it made his back go cold, and a pair of socks was draped over the photos.
Those were Mom's things, the ones he had secretly taken and hidden after Mom got drunk...
Chapter 140: Family Core — Green Morgan
"Give it back!"
Ryan reached out abruptly to grab it, and just as his fingertips were about to touch it, Boom!
A ball of blood-colored Fire suddenly exploded in Green Morgan's palm. The scarlet light reflected on his face, cutting his smile into two distinct halves of light and Shadow.
In the blink of an eye, the flames swallowed those photos and socks. Before the ashes could even scatter, they were blown away by a blast of air.
Ryan flew backward, his back hitting the doorpost with a dull thud. He slid down the pillar and slumped to the ground.
His ears were ringing, stars danced before his eyes, and his chest felt so tight he couldn't catch his breath.
Drip... drip... drip...
Ryan didn't get up immediately; he stared blankly at the blood dripping from his nose.
"Blood... blood, I'm bleeding, I'm bleeding..."
His voice trembled with the instinctive panic of a child facing a wound. Then, he turned his head abruptly.
"Mom, I'm bleeding!!"
The shout was laced with a sob, just like countless times before, filled with a certain, taken-for-granted expectation.
Every time he fell, every time he bumped into something, every time he felt wronged, his mother would rush over immediately, pull him into her arms, press her warm palm over his wound, and tell him, "It's okay, baby."
But this time, there was nothing...
Becca was standing just a few steps away, with Homelander beside her.
The two of them just stood there quietly, with no expression on their faces, their gazes falling indifferently on him, as if they were looking at an insignificant stranger.
"Mom?" Ryan's voice grew quieter, filled with uncertainty.
He looked at Homelander again. "Dad?"
Homelander's breathing grew heavier, and a shallow crease formed between his brows. His lips moved as if he had something to say, but in the end, he just turned his head and looked away.
"Oh my, my~~"
Green Morgan stood up slowly, leaning on the armrest. The setting sun shone from behind him, stretching his shadow long and large, like an owl slowly spreading its wings.
"Didn't you say you would protect Mom? Why are you still so weak now?"
He walked toward Ryan, his pace unhurried, each step like treading on a taut string. The shadow chased Ryan's retreating figure, swallowing him bit by bit.
"You... you..." Ryan's voice was stuck in his throat. His back was already pressed against the doorpost; there was nowhere left to retreat.
His shoulders were hunched, his fingers digging into the wood grain behind him, his fingertips turning white.
"Are promises just things you say so casually? Hmm?"
"Or do you think I'll spoil you, like some kind neighbor uncle?"
Green Morgan looked down at him from above, his dragon pupils piercing.
Ryan's gaze began to unfocus, his pupils losing focus for a moment before refocusing, but they only landed on Green Morgan. Everything around him blurred into spots of light.
His breathing grew shallow, as if his entire attention had been seized by those eyes.
"John, go pour me a glass of Water. Becca, come over and be my chair." Green Morgan said.
Homelander didn't talk back as he usually did; he walked past Ryan in silence.
"Dad." Ryan instinctively reached out toward the passing figure.
Homelander's footsteps paused for a moment—only for a moment—then he pursed his lips as if he had made up his mind, and quickened his pace as he went inside.
Green Morgan was always right.
As for Becca, she rushed to Green Morgan's side almost joyfully. The moment he sat down, she laid down submissively, turning herself into a human chair.
When Green Morgan's weight pressed down, her limbs began to tremble. Her knees and palms supported her on the ground, and veins bulged on the back of her hands, yet she was happy.
Ryan watched this scene, dazed.
The World in his mind, built by his mother and father—that World of "Mom will protect me" and "Dad is the strongest"—was like it had been struck by a hammer. Cracks spread from the center, and it shattered with a crash.
He suddenly realized that there was nothing left to protect him.
Crack... crack...
A strange power surged from deep within his body, burning and overbearing, as if something was rampaging through his veins.
A red light lit up in his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled up from the ground, clenched his fists, and lunged at Green Morgan. "Ahhh—!!"
Green Morgan didn't even stand up. With a swift and clean slap that came whistling through the air,
Ryan was like a bug swatted away, collapsing to the ground, his face covered in snot and tears. He curled his body up, letting out helpless cries.
The red light in his eyes extinguished again.
"Bad person... bad person..."
"You aren't wrong." Green Morgan suddenly spoke.
Ryan's crying quieted.
He turned his head, looking at Green Morgan through blurry, tear-filled eyes, his hollow gaze filled with a bit of shrinking fear and an unconscious, longing confusion that begged for an answer.
"You're just not strong enough."
"If you are strong enough, your actions will be beautified; you will be the definition of correct."
The words fell into Ryan's ears, into his unformed worldview. "Before that, you have no right to demand anything."
As he finished speaking, he hooked his instep, lifted Ryan from the ground, and then stepped down mercilessly.
With a "bang," Ryan was pinned to the doorpost. Wood shavings fell, and several cracks burst open on the pillar's surface. The force was enough to break an adult's ribs, but Ryan was just fixed there, without a single scratch.
Ryan didn't notice any of this. He just stared up blankly at the man before him.
Those eyes—eyes from a high position, overlooking everything, like a god and yet like a beast. He found that he couldn't look away.
Footsteps approached. Homelander walked over with a glass of Water. Green Morgan took it and took a sip, his brows slightly furrowed. "Too hot. It's summer now. Ice Water."
He handed the cup back, his tone as natural as if he were ordering a servant.
Homelander's mouth twitched. He glanced at Green Morgan, then at Ryan, who was pinned to the doorpost. His Adam's apple bobbed, but in the end, he didn't lash out; he took the cup and turned back into the house.
Ryan watched this scene. The strongest dad, in front of this man, swallowed his temper.
The mother he loved most would rather lie on the ground and be a chair for him than want him.
Something had quietly snapped in his heart, and something else was being rebuilt.
The rights of the strong. No—the rights of Green Morgan.
This man... even Dad obeys him, and Mom would rather have him than me... Is he someone I can beat? Or, maybe I can...
"Oh, right." Green Morgan suddenly leaned forward.
"If you still have those thoughts, even if it's a deer, you have to ask me first, understand?"
Ryan didn't answer immediately. He stared blankly at Green Morgan's face as it leaned in close—that face with angular features outlined by the backlight, those dragon pupils looking down from above, that careless yet all-controlling curve of his lips.
His face... turned red. His eyes darted away in a panic, only to uncontrollably sneak back, as if his soul had been hooked by something.
"You brat, what kind of look is that!" Green Morgan was taken aback by his gaze, feeling inexplicably that something was wrong.
He subconsciously increased the pressure under his foot, pressing down on Ryan's chest.
Ryan felt pain and knitted his brows, but quickly shouted, "I... I understand!"
The voice was laced with pain, but also something else—a strange kind of... satisfaction that shouldn't appear in this scene?
Green Morgan stared at his face for two seconds, his mouth twitching. "...That should be enough."
He withdrew his foot, his movements a bit faster than expected. "Alright, I allow you to stand up."
Green Morgan lowered his eyes, his tone casual. "Mm..."
Ryan replied weakly, slowly crawling up by supporting himself on the ground. His knees were covered in dust, and his collar was crooked. He didn't bother to fix it, just stood there with his head down, twisting his fingers in front of him.
Homelander had already appeared at the side. Seeing Ryan stand up, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief. He was truly afraid that if Green Morgan got too excited, he might mess his son up.
But looking at Ryan's submissive appearance, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up slightly. Obedient, satisfied. That's his good boy, right? What's wrong with having a few hobbies? Most importantly, he's obedient.
"Are you Mom and Dad's good boy?"
Green Morgan patted Ryan's shoulder. When his palm landed, Ryan's shoulder flinched slightly but quickly relaxed, as if that hand had pressed some kind of switch.
Ryan's hands twisted tighter in front of him. He looked up, shooting a quick glance at Green Morgan. "Mm..." The voice was very small, but very clear.
"Then I will give you a reward."
Green Morgan suddenly had another photo in his hand, holding it by the edge and shaking it under the setting sun. A close-up of a sole, vivid flesh-colored foot.
He handed it to Ryan. "Destroy it after using it once. Don't let me find it a second time."
Ryan took the photo blankly, his fingertips pinching the corner, looking down at the image. But this time, he stared at it for a few seconds, yet that scorching, palpitating feeling from before didn't surge in his heart. It seemed... not as comfortable anymore.
He gripped the photo, his fingers tightening. Suddenly, he looked up, staring straight at Green Morgan. "When... when can you give Mom another shot?"
Green Morgan was stunned; Homelander was also stunned. The two looked at each other and saw a bit of surprise on each other's faces.
"Anytime." Homelander spoke first.
"Depends on my mood." Green Morgan spoke almost simultaneously, his tone lazy, dragging out the last syllable by half a beat.
The two voices overlapped, then stopped at the same time, and they glared at each other.
"Undermining me, huh? I let you play with my woman, and you're stalling?"
"She's not the only woman I want to play with. With just one object, they're all lining up waiting for me. How am I supposed to divide it?"
"Fuck you!"
"Thanks for the compliment."
The two's gazes collided in the air, sparks flying.
Homelander was the first to withdraw his gaze, turning to Ryan, his face once again plastered with that gentle smile. "When Mom is sick, he will come."
But Ryan didn't seem to have the same closeness to this father, who had suddenly returned to being gentle, as before.
His gaze just slid over Homelander's face and turned back to Green Morgan, carrying a kind of cautious, tentative expectation. "Then... can I save this time's 'play' for when you do that?"
Green Morgan looked down at him, a curve slowly forming at the corner of his mouth. "Heh, depends on if you're obedient." He stood up. "You have to listen to Mom, okay."
Becca stood up and picked Ryan up, her arms wrapping around his waist, her cheek pressing against his forehead. Her voice was soft and sweet, filled with a tenderness put on for the child. "That's the only way Uncle Green Morgan will reward us."
Ryan was held in her arms but didn't rest his head on her shoulder as he usually did. His gaze went over Becca's shoulder, staring fixedly at Green Morgan, his eyes bright, as if afraid to miss any subtle expression on his face. "Mm! I will be obedient!" His voice was much louder and much firmer than before.
"Hahaha—let's take a family photo!" Homelander watched this scene, walking closer with a hearty laugh, his arms open as if to scoop everyone in front of him into his embrace.
"Then I'll take it for you." Green Morgan said, his tone carrying a hint of detachment.
"No." Homelander's expression suddenly became serious, his gaze fixed on Green Morgan. "You are the most important member of us."
Becca and Ryan both looked at Green Morgan at the same time. Becca's eyes were so soft they seemed like they would drip water; Ryan's eyes held a kind of cautious, newly sprouted expectation.
Green Morgan's mouth twitched. Why does it feel... like I've played too much? "Fine then..." He dragged out the last syllable, as if reluctantly, but his steps had already moved toward them.
Click—a family photo of the four was frozen on the phone screen. The three were all snuggled up beside Green Morgan with bright smiles. Only Green Morgan looked sullen, as if he had been forced into the frame, rather unwilling.
"What on earth is going on..." He didn't stay any longer. He spread his wings, bent his knees, and leaped, his figure climbing straight up, disappearing into the twilight clouds in the blink of an eye.
"Remember to come give my mom a shot—!!" Ryan cupped his hands into a megaphone shape, tilting his head back and shouting at the sky. His voice was crisp and bright, dragging out a very, very long tail note.
"Alright, my little baby—" Becca gently stroked Ryan's hair. "Uncle Green Morgan heard you. Mom still has to digest the medicine Uncle Green Morgan gave; if he comes again, Mom will be exhausted to death."
Her voice was soft and clingy, as if she were talking about something sweet and blush-inducing.
"But... I'm looking forward to it." Ryan pouted, his voice muffled. He lowered his head, drawing circles on the ground with his toe, but his mind was already thinking about other things. This time... he wanted to smell the scent. Mom's. And... Green Morgan's. The kind where the two scents are mixed together.
"Mom is looking forward to it, too." Becca licked her lips, her tongue slowly curling over the corner of her mouth, leaving a small, moist sheen. Women, after all, have two stomachs.
Homelander stood to the side, his gaze softening as he looked at the mother and son. The afterglow of the setting sun gilded their silhouettes with a warm golden edge. Becca's hair was blown up by the wind, and Ryan's little face was tilted up, pouting and acting spoiled—it was the feeling of a home. A complete, wonderful feeling he had never had before. He wouldn't lose it!
"Let's go back, I'm hungry." Homelander stepped forward, his palm landing on Becca's buttocks, patting it not too lightly or too heavily.
Becca, however, hesitated, her footsteps pausing. "What's wrong?" Homelander asked, puzzled. "Doctor Green Morgan... also entered our house through the front door." Becca's voice grew smaller and smaller; by the last few words, it was almost a breathy whisper.
Homelander was stunned for a moment, then laughed dumbly, shaking his head. "I knew it."
"No, no, no—" Becca waved her hands quickly, her face slightly flushed, her speed of speech quickening. "I, I invited him. I'll go back and clean up first before..." She didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was already very clear.
"It's okay." Homelander took Becca's hand, fingers intertwined, palms pressed against palms, and lowered his head to kiss her cheek. "It's not the first time; I'm used to it."
"Really?" Becca looked up, her eyes wet, looking at Homelander with deep affection, her eyelashes trembling slightly. "Of course." Homelander's expression was earnest, his gaze serious, and he tightened his grip on her hand. "You are my wife, Green Morgan is my best friend, my brother. Of course I won't mind; it's just visiting. He can even stay here, it wouldn't be a problem."
"I love you, John." Becca hugged him tightly, moved, her arms around his waist, her face buried in his chest. "I love you too." Homelander patted her back gently. Yes, he wasn't joking. As long as this complete home was still there, he could really love this woman, forever. His gaze went over Becca's shoulder, landing on the darkening skyline in the distance. Deep in his eyes flashed a calculation that only he knew. "I need to have Green Morgan come and do personality remodeling for this woman every week to be secure..."