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Henry really couldn't tell what impression he'd left on Charlize Theron during their first eting.
What he could sense was that this woman carried a heavy layer of caution—
likely a product of her upbringing.
As for the things he rembered from before he transmigrated…
He had no idea whether this world followed the sa script.
But such topics were landmines.
Maybe, after she beca a major star and had long laid her past to rest, she could talk about it freely.
Right now?
Anyone who stepped on that mine deserved the explosion.
And Henry wasn't about to rely on Kryptonian skin to go stomping on landmines.
He certainly wasn't going to ask about her father.
So he simply offered what advice he could, said his goodbyes, and left.
Maybe that first eting would also be the last.
Walking through the streets of Los Angeles—this city with the highest celebrity density on Earth—
spotting a famous face was nothing special.
But actually interacting with them, or doing any sort of "in-depth" research?
Not so easy.
What, did people think celebrities were like… public playthings?
Available to anyone?
Henry had assud he wouldn't see the future Oscar winner again until years later—
on the big screen, not face-to-face.
But only two days passed before his phone rang.
---
"Hello, may I speak to Mr. Henry Brown?"
"Speaking."
There was a slight hesitation on the other end.
A slow, uncertain voice asked:
"This is Charlize Theron. Do you rember ?"
"Ah, Miss Theron—of course I rember. What can I do for you?"
"Um… because you're the author—well, translator—of Love Across Cultures… and I'm… a fan…
I wanted to ask if you could sign my copy."
"Sure. When and where?"
"Could we et at that sa restaurant? Around noon? And… I have so things I'd like to ask you."
Not an invitation to eat together.
Not an offer to treat him.
Clearly, the girl was hungry.
Henry didn't call her out on it.
"Alright. Today?"
"Yes, today at noon."
"Perfect timing then. I'll treat you. Sorry—I'm soone who's been hungry before.
When it's ti to eat, I must eat."
"…Okay. Thank you."
"See you then."
"See you."
---
Hanging up, Henry looked down at the little tiger circling his legs—
Okay, not so little anymore.
Animals grew fast.
After a year they were practically full-grown.
Katie wasn't even a year old yet and already weighed four hundred and eighty pounds.
If Henry hadn't replaced all the cat trees with custom steel structures, the old wooden ones would've been splinters.
The reason Katie was acting clingy was simple—
today was supposed to be "fresh at day," a trip out into the wild for so natural exercise and hunting simulation.
For an animal—especially a tiger—running around outdoors was heaven compared to being trapped inside a small apartnt.
But with an appointnt at noon, Katie's outing would have to wait until tomorrow.
This absolutely was not a case of "beauty before pet."
Henry rubbed Katie's massive head.
"Alright little one. Eat so chilled at today. I'll take you out tomorrow."
"ROWR!"
**→ Translation: No.
**
The tiger translator broadcast the word through its speaker.
Henry grabbed Katie's cheeks with both hands, forcing the big cat to look him in the eyes.
His eyes glowed red.
"We go out tomorrow.
Any problem with that?"
Katie stiffened.
"…rowr."
**→ Translation: Okay.
**
Henry's eyes faded back to normal.
"Good girl."
---
Katie didn't truly understand complex sentences.
The translator worked by pairing brainwave patterns with vocalizations to produce simple human-language equivalents.
It could also reverse the process—
taking Henry's human speech and producing tiger-language sounds.
With more and more data collected, the system beca more reliable, and Katie started recognizing the artificial "tiger words" the machine produced.
But a tiger's mind differed from a human's.
She could only grasp a few basic words so far—
nothing like full sentences or extended commands.
Whether this was true tiger language
or simply conditioned responses like dogs learning "sit" and "shake"…
Henry honestly didn't know.
Maybe the translator had simply beco part of Katie's environnt—
and their interactions no longer resembled anything you'd see in the wild.
---
These days, Henry arranged for a butcher shop to deliver freshly slaughtered at every morning—
cash on delivery.
To ensure balanced nutrition, the at rotated regularly:
beef today, lamb tomorrow, pork the day after.
Occasionally horse at appeared on the nu.
Feeding a tiger was expensive, no wonder so few people did it.
He even considered inventing tiger-food cans similar to cat food…
but the market would be nonexistent.
Zoos probably wouldn't buy them either.
So raw at it was.
Though… tiger poop was foul.
Fishy, pungent, and overwhelming.
Henry had already redesigned Katie's "toilet" several tis.
Since he couldn't take her out today, he had to prep the automatic feeder early.
Not just a food dispenser—
it needed to be durable.
Ever since Katie realized that pressing or whacking the machine made at appear,
how many feeders had she torn apart?
The first version—plastic—was laughable.
Destroyed in a day.
Version 2: tal sheet.
Shredded.
Version 3, 4… and so on.
She even tore open the refrigerator once—
because Henry had taken at out of it.
Even reinforced household appliances weren't safe.
That's why her food now ca freshly delivered—
and why Henry sotis fantasized about breaking into Wakanda to steal so vibranium to craft an indestructible feeder…
In the end, he settled on a formula for tank armor from thirty years ago to build Katie's feeding station.
Why not use modern armor designs?
Because modern composite armor was ant to resist bullets, heat, and explosions—
not tiger claws.
Old-school thick steel plates were much better for that.
After placing Katie's lunch into the secure compartnt, the tiger instantly locked onto the feeder—
that indestructible object she hated yet could never defeat.
Henry scratched her chin.
The BB-series core robot didn't need upgrades as often anymore,
thanks in large part to Katie's feeder requiring fewer repairs.
With tiger fed and secure, Henry needed sothing to do before his lunch appointnt.
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