Marvel: A Lazy-Ass Superman Chapter 553 553: Farewell, My Love

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Rand Ravich had probably mistaken Henry for soone trying to drum up computer-generated visual effects business for Stark Pictures.

True to a Jew's ticulous, calculating nature, he made no promises on the spot. Instead, he called over the film's male and female leads, smoothly changing the subject.

There was no need to say much about Charlize Theron. At this point in ti, she only had The Devil's Advocate from the previous year as a true representative work.

And Johnny Depp was not yet a superstar commanding ten-million-dollar salaries. He had not reached the status where he could casually ignore directors.

At the mont, both actors were regarded within the industry as affordable young perforrs with sowhat immature acting skills.

As for whether their acting was truly immature…

Well, in the eyes of those old veterans, finding flaws in an egg was hardly difficult.

In any case, under the director's summons, the two obediently ca over to greet Henry.

"Mr. Depp, your performance in Donnie Brasco last year was truly remarkable. Holding your own opposite Academy Award winner Al Pacino without falling behind at all."

Henry deliberately avoided ntioning Depp's true breakout role, Edward Scissorhands.

The reason was the sa as with Titanic.

The true achievent of Edward Scissorhands belonged more to Tim Burton's bizarre visual style than to the actor's performance itself.

This kind of praise was still quite effective on Johnny Depp.

The actor, who was sowhat shy around strangers in private, actually smiled.

"Ms. Theron, your acting in The Devil's Advocate was equally stunning. Whether acting opposite Mr. Al Pacino or Keanu Reeves, you were more than a match for either of them."

"Thank you," Charlize Theron replied politely.

Her deanor was distinctly distant, as though she were interacting with an ordinary fan.

There was not the slightest trace of his girl in her.

Even when she shook Henry's hand, it was rely a courteous touch.

There was none of the familiar warmth in her palm.

Henry could not possibly fail to notice this attitude.

Yet he still could not help holding on for a little longer.

Only before Charlize Theron could start finding it rude did he finally let go—

Even though he wanted to hold her hand for the rest of his life.

Henry behaved like a perfectly normal insider from the entertainnt industry and smiled.

"You two had the opportunity to work together. Did the Oscar-winning actor personally recomnd both of you?"

Rand Ravich picked up the conversation.

"Before finalizing the casting, I did ask Mr. Al Pacino for his opinion. He highly praised both of their acting abilities, which is what convinced to cast them as the leads."

"Then this film sounds very promising with such talented actors involved," Henry complinted.

Even though he knew that in the world before his transmigration, this movie had been a disastrous flop, utterly shattering Rand Ravich's directing career.

As one critic had put it:

"No matter how strong the actors' performances are, they can't save a painfully sluggish film."

Putting the movie aside, Henry naturally had not forgotten his true purpose.

But from those familiar eyes, he saw no warmth.

Not even the slightest trace of confusion or troubled emotion.

And so Henry understood.

This was not his girl.

This was simply the actress Charlize Theron.

Should he pursue her all over again?

Win her back?

That was the sort of thing often seen in romance films. One partner loses their mory, and the other spares no effort to make them fall in love again.

But in reality—or at least for Henry himself—that kind of trope simply could not work.

A washed-up celebrity assistant who had just lost his job, and a woman who had just arrived in Los Angeles chasing dreams while running into obstacle after obstacle.

The two ended up together by chance, struggled side by side, worked hard together, and gradually achieved so success.

Could that really be compared to a movie studio executive pursuing a moderately famous actress before eventually getting together with her?

The latter situation was too easily entangled with calculations of fa and profit—even the coercion of power and status.

If all he gained was an empty shell without genuine feelings, could he truly be satisfied?

Honestly speaking, once that shared history was gone, she could never beco his girl again.

She would forever only be the celebrity Charlize Theron.

Even if he held the sa face in his arms, would he still feel the sa warmth?

In short, this was not the kind of world where one heroic aura made loyal ministers kneel instantly, or one handso glance made beautiful won loosen their waistbands.

A Kryptonian's iron fists could suppress dissent, but they could not win hearts.

And if soone naively believed they could obtain sincere feelings through fa and fortune alone, they might as well just rely on good looks or domineering charisma instead.

At least those thods were cheaper.

After exchanging a few more polite pleasantries, Henry stopped disturbing the shoot and left behind only a business card for the director before departing.

Before leaving, he took one final close look at Charlize Theron.

Farewell, my love.

Those words could only be spoken silently in his heart—to soone who no longer existed.

Behind him, the casual private conversation between the two lead actors was still effortlessly picked up by the Kryptonian's super-hearing.

Johnny Depp said,

"Looks like that movie executive is really interested in you. Did you notice the way he looked at you? Like so puppy with watery eyes."

Charlize Theron replied dismissively,

"That only proves I'm charming—and that he's not gay. Otherwise he'd be looking at you the sa way."

"Ouch. Honestly, that wouldn't be so bad."

"Eww~"

Charlize openly voiced her disgust.

Johnny Depp hurriedly defended himself.

"I'm just agreeing that you also think I'm charming. So, after work, how about I buy you a drink?"

"Casanova, did you forget you already have a girlfriend at ho? Vanessa. I literally just ate the cookies she brought yesterday. I'm not about to beco the bitch who sleeps with her boyfriend."

"Okay, my bad. I really did just an a drink. Nothing else."

…

The playful banter between two ordinary friends sounded unbearably harsh in the Kryptonian's ears now.

Henry seriously began considering where exactly everything had gone wrong.

This kind of massive alteration to countless people's destinies could not possibly be explained by sothing as simple as a female lead losing her mory.

A higher power had obviously intervened.

Recalling the image of Tony Stark wearing the Infinity Gauntlet and snapping his fingers, the identity of the culprit hardly required further thought.

Even if Henry still did not know how Tony Stark had obtained a fully completed Infinity Gauntlet—or how he survived after snapping his fingers.

Based on Henry's understanding of Tony Stark, the man was not the sort who would intentionally tear lovers apart.

Even if he currently lived like a shaless playboy.

His "girlfriend of the day" changed frequently, yes, but he never pursued married won and never forced himself on anyone who clearly rejected him.

There was another bizarre detail hidden in Henry's mories.

He clearly rembered Tony Stark dressed like a sorcerer, wearing a nanotech Infinity Gauntlet and snapping his fingers—

Yet he could not rember what magic Tony had actually used, nor what role he had played during the battle itself.

Soone capable of orchestrating all this…

No matter how Henry thought about it, there was only one possibility.

The Sorcerer Supre.

The very one who had sent Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch to drag him into all of this.

Looks like, without realizing it, I got manipulated by so grandmaster behind the scenes.

Henry also did not think Tony Stark had been a willing accomplice in this farce.

The most likely possibility was that Tony himself had also been manipulated.

That young man's only real advantage right now was backing from Stark Industries.

If soone truly did not care about money, ssing with him would be absurdly easy.

So—

Fuck you, Ancient One!

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