"Don't worry, ma'am. With Homelander's speed, it'll only take him two minutes to fly the captain home. He can be back in time for dinner!"
Edgar forced a stiff smile, pretending not to hear Homelander's miserable wailing as Xiao dragged him across the floor. He calmly reassured Theresa that joining Vought wasn't some contract of servitude—Xiao could return home whenever he wished.
"I'll be counting on you from now on, Mr. Edgar," Theresa said politely. "But his career matters—so please let Sebastian come home as little as possible. Preferably… not even once every six months."
Xiao Xingxiu nodded gravely, giving Edgar the same instruction.
Then he immediately covered his face with his hands—hiding a smile of pure relief—and escorted Theresa to the car.
Finally! That little ancestor was gone.
At long last, the house would return to being his world—and the quiet, blissful world of two people would return.
God knew how much Theresa had adored him before Xiao was born. How happy they had been.
But ever since Xiao came along, Theresa's love had shifted entirely to the little brat.
And Xiao Xingxiu—despite being the father—could not stand how troublesome and mischievous his own son was.
He had wanted a cute daughter for years.
But Theresa, out of guilt toward Xiao, had never agreed.
Now, Xiao had finally "rolled out" of the house, and the chance for a second child had finally come.
Xiao Xingxiu couldn't help the warm, bittersweet joy rising in his chest.
"…?"
Watching Xiao Xingxiu rush away without looking back, Edgar's eyelid twitched.
Why do I feel like I've just taken on a massive—no, a catastrophic—problem…?
Xiao dragged a very unwilling Homelander toward the employee dorm section of the Vought Tower.
Homelander sulked the whole way, devastated that he couldn't stay and chat with Theresa—but after Xiao's fist greeted him, he obediently guided Xiao through Vought's living arrangements and onboarding rules.
To be fair, Vought really put effort into pampering their heroes into moral decay.
Every hero got their own private residence. Every room was as luxurious as possible—at worst, comparable to a five-star hotel suite.
Food, clothes, daily necessities—everything was top-shelf. And the stronger or more popular the hero, the more extravagant the accommodations became.
Take Soldier Boy and his Seven-member "Payback" squad. Their quarters weren't just on the highest floor—each room was custom-decorated according to their personal tastes, all on Vought's dime.
Of course, such rooms were reserved only for the pinnacle of heroes like Payback.
But right now? They were empty—left wide open for Xiao and Homelander to pick from.
Not only because the entire Payback team was currently hospitalized, but because… their value was gone. With Soldier Boy's "death," Payback had lost all meaning.
Just like Homelander was destined to become the core of the future Seven, Payback's members were little more than decorative background. Their whole existence was to make Soldier Boy shine brighter.
Without him, they had no backbone—and no worth.
Every contracted hero could live here, star in one or two films, and—if successful—enter commercial marketing, sell merchandise, and grow their brand.
Once their movies and popularity stopped generating value, they'd be kicked out to make space for fresh blood.
"What a brutal rat race," Xiao sighed. "But it's meaningless to us. Our power determines our status."
With that, he tossed his luggage straight into Soldier Boy's suite—under Homelander's envious gaze.
Homelander had chosen Crimson Countess's room earlier but had clearly wanted Soldier Boy's. Unfortunately for him, Edgar had already assigned it to Xiao.
Xiao called the logistics department to clear out Soldier Boy's belongings and replace them with new items.
"Captain, where should we move Soldier Boy's things?"
The logistics manager—a balding old man—scratched his nearly bare scalp nervously. He didn't dare handle Soldier Boy's property carelessly.
After all, Xiao's powers awakened because Soldier Boy died. This was the new heir, standing before him.
"Oh my god."
Xiao stared at him as if witnessing a miracle of stupidity.
"Are you really Vought's logistics director? How did you even get this job? These things belonged to Soldier Boy in life! After his death, they're out-of-print collectibles! To some fans, they're priceless!"
"N-No, sir—that's not what I meant!"
"Then how do you normally handle hero belongings?"
"We usually… recycle them to decorate other rooms," the director whispered, terrified someone might overhear.
"What a waste!"
Xiao was speechless.
The capitalists of this era were still too innocent.
Xiao, who had lived through future pop-culture madness, knew exactly how fan economics worked. It was easier than scamming believers from a megachurch. (T:N No it isn't, trust me some pastors are marketing geniuses, You'd be shocked by the kinds of stuff they sell)
In the future, he'd even heard of things beyond the limits of human reason:
A jar of bathwater from a female celebrity? Worth over a thousand dollars.
A close-up picture of an idol's eyeballs? Five hundred.
And people paid happily.
If that kind of nonsense could sell like hotcakes, then Soldier Boy's authentic, Vought-certified personal belongings were worth tens of millions—hundreds of millions even—given proper marketing.
"With how many fans Soldier Boy has, this is guaranteed profit! Guaranteed!" Xiao said, exasperated.
The logistics director swallowed nervously. "…So?"
"So?!" Xiao roared. "Gather reporters! Hold a charity auction in Soldier Boy's name! Let fans bid for these treasures! And then donate the proceeds to the poor and needy!"
He threw his arms up.
"Why are you people so stupid?! How do you NOT know how to make money?!"
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