It was a winter morning.
Unable to focus on lessons all day, Vincent rushed home right after school.
But when he reached his doorstep, he suddenly stopped.
Could something that had been constant for over a decade change because of that old photograph?
This thought inexplicably flashed through Vincent's mind, making his heart clench. He stood rooted, eyes fixed on the closed, silent door.
About ten seconds passed.
The cold winter air from the stairwell poured in, yet Vincent's palm, clutching the key, was sweating. As he resolved to open the door, it clicked open from the inside.
A woman, perfect and flawless even under the most critical gaze, stood at the doorway.
She appeared about twenty-eight, with black hair neatly tied up, exuding an intellectual aura. Her delicately made-up face was exquisitely flawless, her eyes like silhouettes of a clear blue sky, framed by slightly raised black eyebrows that carried a hint of heroism.
The woman wore a loose, stylish long white shirt and trousers, subtly revealing a corner of her graceful, tall figure. What was admirable was her queenly noble demeanor, intertwined with a natural, casual air.
Nobility and casualness.
These two distinct temperaments combined subtly and perfectly.
Vincent subconsciously called out: "Auntie."
"Come in."
Diana Prince didn't ask why Vincent was standing outside. She knelt slightly, her back curving perfectly from neck to hips, and took a pair of house slippers from the shoe cabinet, placing them on the rug in front of Vincent.
"Auntie, I..."
Vincent opened his mouth, feeling he shouldn't hide anything from her. This was unchanging for sixteen years, but he didn't know how to begin.
"Let's eat dinner first." Diana seemed to sense something, interrupting him, and turned to the living room.
Vincent felt relieved. He hung his schoolbag on the hook by the door, changed into slippers, and followed her.
Inside the living room, illuminated by warm lights.
Two portions of spaghetti on the dining table emitted a steaming aroma, with beef sauce, chili oil, and cold water. Diana and Vincent, one adult and one child, sat facing each other in silence, eating dinner.
"Spaghetti again," Vincent muttered, looking at the familiar meal, as if forgetting the heavy atmosphere.
Unexpectedly, Diana replied with a cool expression, "It's good enough you have food; don't be picky."
"Yes."
Vincent made a bitter face and quickly picked up his fork to finish his colorful spaghetti.
His aunt was perfect, externally and internally, but had no cooking talent, so the taste was as ordinary as ever.
Eating this, Vincent recalled his childhood.
Back then, his aunt couldn't cook at all.
"Cough, cough."
Vincent choked from eating too quickly. Diana, watching him, immediately got up, came closer, and gently patted his back: "Eat slower," and handed him her water glass.
Vincent took a big gulp of warm water, feeling much better.
So, he decided to say it: "Auntie. This morning, someone left a photo at the house."
He placed the photo from his pocket on the table and recounted what happened that morning.
Diana wasn't surprised and listened quietly. Only when she saw the black-and-white photo did a slight ripple flash in her eyes.
After Vincent finished, Diana put away the photo, returned to her seat, and gently instructed: "I know who left the photo. I'll handle this, so don't worry about it anymore."
"Okay."
Vincent had no doubt his aunt could handle everything, but he asked with concern and curiosity: "Auntie, the one in that photo wearing strange battle armor..."
"Since you want to know, I'll tell you."
Diana's cool face became solemn. After a brief pause, she spoke seriously: "Yes, she is actually—my grandmother. She passed away long ago. I heard she helped the army fight a mysterious force during World War I."
"Mysterious force? Could it be the legendary gods?" Vincent's eyes widened. The most circulated cause of World War I was the God of War!
Diana shook her head, "Things from the past are too distant. I only heard about it from my mother when I was a child."
She paused, "However, there are no gods in this world."
"That's true." Vincent nodded, feeling relieved.
Diana secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
"I've arranged to meet a friend; I'll be out soon and might be back late," Diana said softly, sipping from her water glass. She noticed Vincent staring at it.
"What's wrong?" Diana put down the glass, asking curiously.
"Nothing," Vincent shook his head. He'd just thought of a question.
He'd used his aunt's water glass, and now she was using it.
Was that an indirect kiss?
An indirect kiss with his aunt was nothing. As a child, they often bathed together. This was a major reason girls had difficulty attracting Vincent's attention.
It's like when you've seen divine anime like Fullmetal Alchemist and Code Geass; other anime feel uninteresting.
But now, a problem arose.
Would an indirect kiss trigger the Lord of the Retinue?
Vincent wondered.
He hadn't tried his superpower, only knowing its three prerequisites:
Requires the opposite sex.
Involves intimate contact.
Involves an exchange of bodily fluids.
His aunt was, of course, of the opposite sex, and perfectly beautiful.
Did the pat on the back count as intimate contact?
The exchange of fluids, if any, would've been neutralized by the water.
So, it should be fine, right?
Vincent thought absentmindedly until dinner concluded.
"Don't wait up; go to bed early." Diana's tone was like coaxing a child, making Vincent feel helpless and amused. He replied, "Got it. Be careful out there. Our city doesn't have permanent superheroes."
Only New York, Gotham, and Metropolis have Iron Man, Batman, and Superman stationed, as they reside there.
"Don't worry, I've always been lucky. You take care of the house and don't run around." Diana winked, leaving a reassuring smile, then put on her winter high-heeled boots and walked out.
Silence fell in the house.
Vincent looked at the closed door, feeling inexplicably empty, recalling their conversation.
"Did the photo just pass like that?" Vincent murmured.
If the photo only represented his aunt's grandmother, what were the intentions of the person who slipped it in?
"This doesn't seem simple." Vincent began clearing dishes distractedly but heard a crisp, shattering sound.
Startled, he looked down, pupils constricting.
The water glass he held had shattered, as if subjected to force beyond its capacity. Glass shards scattered across the floor.
"This cup? No, it's my body..."
Vincent's palm was undamaged. He felt unprecedented strength in his hand, as if he could crush anything.
An illusion, or delusion?
Stunned, Vincent looked at the metal fork and knife in his other hand. His fingers twitched, and the metal bent and deformed.
Clear finger imprints were visible on the handles.
Every movement showed extraordinary power!
"Huh?" Vincent was bewildered.