Most of the roles had already been cast, leaving only the Homelander without an actor... Herman started making personal calls to the well-known actors who, in his [Fallen Director] backstory, had worked with him before and exchanged contact information.
Unfortunately, without exception, every one of them turned him down.
Left with no other option, and after wrapping up some errands with Skye, Herman even made a trip out to Los Angeles.
He thought that if he showed up in person, he'd be able to persuade at least one actor. But to his surprise, his trip ended in complete failure.
It wasn't that everyone was boycotting him. Some actors were open at first, but the moment they heard they'd be playing a deranged superhero, they immediately refused. To them, this had to be another garbage show—who would want to watch a story about evil superheroes?
By the early hours of the morning, Herman returned to Stellar Tower empty-handed and disappointed.
Skye was already asleep. The audition room from earlier remained untouched. Herman flicked on the light and sat down inside for a while.
In the quiet room, his gaze fell on the Homelander suit that had been completed two days earlier.
Was this really what it came to? A sacrifice for art?
Yes.
Art.
And for art, there was nothing shameful in making sacrifices.
In the end, Herman chose to go through with it—not just to finish the task, but to realize a flawless artistic performance—by becoming the very thing he hated most.
He had sworn up and down he would never play the Homelander. Yet after putting on the suit and pacing in front of the mirror, Herman finally decided to bite the bullet.
At that moment, he had no idea how long he would regret this choice in the future.
How best to describe it?
It was like those actors who take on one defining role, and no matter what they do afterward, the public remembers them only as that character.
Herman hadn't realized how serious the problem could become.
He was good at acting. Too good.
And this was a world where superheroes actually existed.
So it was only natural—if not inevitable—that people would start confusing fiction with reality.
...
Herman's unease about playing the Homelander wasn't just because of the character's twisted nature. Lately, he'd been plagued by the same recurring nightmare.
Maybe it was because he'd spent so many days fretting over casting the Homelander, but in his dreams, he always became him.
Only instead of doing whatever he wanted, he was constantly beaten senseless by the original—Superman himself—until morning.
Sure enough.
After stripping off the Homelander suit and crashing in his small office room, Herman dreamed again. In it, he stood high above the clouds, basking in the worship of countless people below.
The crowd stretched endlessly, a dark sea of humanity, all chanting his name.
Even Taylor Swift, the global pop icon, was singing a song she'd written for him—proclaiming her desire to bear his children.
But just as Herman reveled in the world's devotion, the sun darkened, blocked by something. Feeling a chill of foreboding, he looked up.
A figure in uniform, cape billowing, descended straight from space. In an instant, with a single punch, the unprepared Herman was smashed down toward the earth.
The impact was like a meteor crashing into the planet, like a nuclear warhead exploding. Mountains split, seas roared, the world trembled in chaos.
The land collapsed.
The sky shattered.
Oceans rose in waves tall enough to swallow continents whole... Herman could do nothing but take the beating. He knew exactly who it was.
Superman. The real one. The original had come to crush the knockoff.
Superman's blows came like a storm. No matter how Herman tried, he couldn't withstand them.
The earth itself was shattered.
The universe trembled on the edge of collapse.
And even as Superman held him down in space, pounding him relentlessly, his face still twisted with fury. Around them floated the corpses of cosmic beings—shattered remnants of the so-called Five Gods, even the Living Tribunal.
How Herman was still alive, he couldn't understand.
But dreams never obey logic.
By the end, Superman's fists had pummeled the universe itself to pieces, breaking through into another one—and he was still chasing Herman, still beating him without end.
"You betrayed my loved ones! You betrayed the love she gave you!"
Superman's roar thundered through the void.
Herman froze.
As countless universes crumbled around him in that one-sided beating... he finally snapped awake, utterly drained.
His back was soaked with sweat.
"A nightmare."
Herman remembered the note in his [Hidden Superpowered Being] profile: after absorbing the crystal, he would be plagued by nightmares every night.
Now, it was happening exactly as written. And every night, the dream unfolded almost the same way—him being chased and pummeled by the real Superman.
"What are these nightmares supposed to mean?"
He quickly dismissed the thought of them being some kind of prophecy. This Marvel Universe had no Metropolis, no Superman... Sure, Superman comics existed here, but they were never all that popular.
The idea of characters stepping out of comic books to attack him?
Impossible.
But Herman didn't believe these dreams were just psychological, either. They had to be tied to the alien crystal he'd fused with.
"There's something I still don't understand."
He glanced outside—the sun was already high in the sky.
From outside came faint sounds.
Skye was cleaning.
Herman stayed sitting on the bed, not rising just yet. The All-Seeing Eye in his mind had finished its cooldown.
10!
9!
8!
…
1!
As the countdown ended, the world around him froze once more. Time itself halted, leaving Herman the only one able to move.
It was time to draw another identity.
What kind of life would it be this time?
...
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