Soren stood in front of the display case containing the world engine fragment, suddenly frozen in place.
Next to the case, a book-sized LCD screen was playing footage of Superman striking the world engine—
Gravity waves cascaded down like a waterfall from the world engine, and amidst the gravitational waves, Superman raised his fist, his red cape billowing behind him as he charged toward the core of the world engine.
The red cape looked like a stunning splash of blood, reflecting in the depths of his Kryptonian blue eyes.
Soren seemed entranced, staring intently at the footage of Superman.
Since his unexpected memory loss, he had seen this Justice League leader, Earth's guardian, countless times online, in newspapers, magazines, and posters.
But this was the first time he had come face-to-face with something that had been touched by Superman.
He couldn't shake the feeling… the feeling that he had once been very, very close to Superman.
The amber-like nebula in his blue irises slowly blossomed in the warm light of the display case.
"Soren?"
Tim, standing to his right, called out in surprise.
He furrowed his brow, gently placing his hand on Soren's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
"Ah?"
Soren snapped back to reality, looking at Tim, still seemingly dazed. "Tim? What's wrong?"
Tim's expression was tight with concern.
"Soren, you're crying." He carefully pointed out.
It turned out that the blond boy standing in front of him had been silently shedding tears without realizing it.
Soren quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and Tim handed him a light purple handkerchief, helping him dry his tears.
Once the streaks of tears on his face were gone, Soren, confused and shaken, said, "I don't know—it's so strange, why am I…?"
He turned back to the screen playing the video, still feeling a weight in his chest, as if rough stones had been stuffed inside, lodged in his heart.
For a moment, he felt so suffocated that he could barely breathe, clutching his chest as his expression began to relax, his gaze becoming blank, as if he were peering through that small screen to an extraordinarily distant place.
Tim quickly patted him on the back, pulling his attention back and saying with concern, "Do you want to take a break? You don't seem quite right."
"I…" Soren felt bewildered, unsure of what was happening to him and why he suddenly felt so sad.
He nodded along with Tim's suggestion, "Maybe I'm just too excited; after all, Superman is everyone's—"
The word he meant to say was "hope," but what came out was "sun."
As soon as he said it, he was taken aback.
Soren was shocked and confused.
He didn't consider himself a passionate fan of Superman.
Among all the superheroes, he undoubtedly preferred the incredibly cool Batman and his Uncle Tony.
As for Superman—
Whenever he browsed through superhero profiles, he would instinctively skip over Superman, uninterested in his news and photos.
He had always thought he wasn't interested in Superman.
So why was he crying like a hopeless fanatic while watching the footage of him?
…It was just so strange.
And to say something so… so cheesy that made him want to dig his toes into the ground, like "Superman is our sun"—good grief, even if he were writing a love letter, he wouldn't use such a corny metaphor!
Soren felt a wave of shame wash over him, momentarily freezing in front of Tim, desperately trying to salvage some dignity. "Uh, I mean, I was saying… Superman is… is…"
"Uh, hey? Do you guys need any help?"
Just as Soren felt so awkward he wanted to run away, a cheerful voice rang out behind them.
Soren immediately turned around and, upon seeing the dark red uniform made of silicone quartz sand and the lightning emblem on the chest, gasped in shock: "—The Flash!"
The Flash, Barry Allen, stood there wearing his helmet, with small golden lightning bolts on each ear.
The exposed part of his face beneath the mask lifted into a surprised smile. "Uh, I think it's just Flash, not F-F-F-F-F-F-F-Flash?"
The moment he appeared, he captured the attention of the entire exhibition hall.
Everyone, upon seeing him, let out the same gasp as Soren: "F-F-F-F-F-F-F-Flash!"
And collectively, they all inhaled sharply.
Barry quickly turned his head, waving at everyone in the room before saying in confusion, "Wait, why is everyone calling me F-F-F-F-F-F-F-Flash? Is that some new nickname that's trending?"
Soren's eyes sparkled as he stared at the real, live Flash (the real one!), his gaze traveling up and down Barry's uniform like someone admiring a life-sized action figure.
"These are actual silicone quartz sand boots—you're the real Flash! Oh my God, I never thought I'd see an actual Justice League member!"
Barry, feeling slightly creeped out by Soren's intense stare, took a step back, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Uh, yes, I'm the real Flash—" He paused, realizing how ridiculous that sounded, and grimaced before turning his head to say, "I noticed earlier that you seemed, uh, like you needed help? If you're tired, we have a lounge inside! Plus, we have on-call medical staff all day! If you need any assistance during the open house, just press this help button—"
He rattled off the lines with lightning speed, repeating exactly what Victor had told him earlier, while discreetly giving an enthusiastic thumbs-up toward the surveillance camera in Victor's control room.
In the small conference room inside the Justice League headquarters, Cyborg, Victor Stone, stared at the holographic screen in front of him, silently pressing his lips together.
Across from him sat Wonder Woman, Diana, her expression equally complex.
"Is he going to be okay?" she asked hoarsely, resting her arm, adorned with her protective silver bracelets, on her knee.
Victor's gaze fell on Soren's face on the screen, his voice low and heavy. "I don't know."
—He didn't know why Soren had suddenly burst into tears upon seeing Superman's exhibit, just as he didn't know how to deal with everything that had happened.