Chapter 8: Where Am I?

Old John's bar was not busy at all; even the old man alone could handle it easily.

Nevertheless, he took Henry in, letting him do odd jobs in the bar: cleaning tables, sweeping, and the like, while providing this glutton with three meals a day.

Henry never expected himself to be so gluttonous. While others counted steaks in ounces, he counted them in pounds. Moreover, with such an appetite, even if an entire roasted cow were served, no one would doubt Henry could finish it in one sitting.

Others would finish a single plate of mashed potatoes, perhaps with a bit of broccoli added. But this pig feed, which even locals despised, he could eat by the whole pot at once.

Perhaps it was because, in those past years, every meal left him hungry, starving him into fear. Now that he had the chance, he simply couldn't control himself, so naturally, he ate to his heart's content.

But Old John never said a word; after finishing, he just continued working. In the end, it was Henry himself who began to feel ashamed.

What was his background? Although accustomed to slacking off, he understood human affairs and social niceties to some extent.

To repay this kindness, Henry naturally did whatever he could to help, even though this broken tavern had little work to do...

The unfamiliar Eagle language, thanks to memories from before his transmigration, was rapidly mastered at an unimaginable speed.

Whether reading, writing, or conversing orally, it was like using his native tongue; he could understand without needing to convert it into his true mother tongue in his mind.

The only difference from the local Americans was the accent and the use of some slang. And these things were rapidly transforming and adapting through conversations with Old John and the townspeople.

Henry did not deliberately hide himself; after all, he was helping in Old John's bar. Even if business was very quiet, he would still have to face some people, and they were all regulars.

In such a place, a new face inevitably needed an introduction; otherwise, it would be difficult to blend into the local environment.

As for the extra strength and sensory abilities this body gained after leaving the research institute, they were no big deal to Henry.

Again, thanks to habits formed before transmigration, a key point of slacking off was lowering one's presence.

If one could avoid being noticed by the boss or superiors, naturally, one hoped they wouldn't focus attention on oneself; as long as they remembered to pay the salary every month, that was enough.

So moving quietly was almost instinctive for Henry.

Even though his strength had increased many times over, as long as he was careful enough in daily life, he need not fear breaking something due to his extra strength and thereby attracting others' attention.

The same applied to those sensory abilities, which had improved by an unknown number of times. How to see without seeing, how to hear without hearing—such techniques of playing dead were deeply ingrained in his bones.

There was no need to worry whether absorbing so much information from the outside world would explode his brain. Ignoring redundant information was not a skill; excluding useful things as well was the supreme realm of playing dead.

As for the sense of smell, there was even less of a problem. "Entering a room of orchids, one no longer smells their fragrance after a long time; entering a stall of dried fish, one no longer smells their stench after a long time." This was a maxim left by the Laozu Sect.

Simply put, once accustomed to a smell, it was no problem. Now, it was just that his nose could detect a few more scents.

If suddenly stimulated by some strange odor, regardless of whether the sense of smell was sharp or not, one would feel uncomfortable. But once accustomed, it was just that.

And taste... Henry was no child, grabbing anything and stuffing it into his mouth.

A more sensitive sense of taste made eating either a pleasure... or a torment, but it was not a major problem.

In short, as long as one did not try to test the limits of the improvements this body displayed, living like an ordinary person with one's own lifestyle habits was a very easy thing.

As for testing the limits... why do that?

As long as one could perform at a normal human level, did it matter where the limits lay?

He wasn't planning to run off and play a punch-for-punch exchange game with the Purple Sweet Potato Spirit Wen, seeing who would fall first.

As for his origin, Henry had speculated. First, Saiyans could be ruled out, as he had no tail and wouldn't turn into a giant monkey upon seeing a full moon.

Then, he was from an outer planet; although he looked human, he liked basking in the sun. Moreover, during the process of sunbathing, he could feel his various aspects strengthening...

With these characteristics, a term naturally appeared in his mind: Superman. Or rather, Kryptonian.

Damn, did I end up in the wrong setting?

The reason for such a question was that he had already confirmed from Old John and other townspeople that this world had indeed had Captain America.

Everyone even brought out their collected evidence and materials to prove it, such as Captain America trading cards, news briefs, and so on. Old John even had a wartime photo with the Captain.

These things were very old; there was no need to doubt their authenticity.

Second, although besides Captain America, he hadn't heard of any other familiar superheroes, this world had mutants, and quite a lot of them.

The love-hate relationship between the X-Men and the Brotherhood of Mutants often appeared in some tabloids. If the commotion was big enough, major newspapers would also publish it.

For instance, the Cuban Crisis of the 60s and the Mutant Great War in Egypt in '83; regardless of whether the newspapers' stance viewed mutants as a threat, they provided quite a lot of coverage.

Until today, mutants appearing occasionally around him still reminded everyone that this world did not belong solely to ordinary humans.

Then, vampires and werewolves were no longer just bedtime stories or film topics. They occasionally created monsters like zombies, and wiping out an entire town or the like frequently appeared in gossip tabloids.

The US government's ambiguous attitude towards such news, sometimes sealing it and sometimes not, conveyed another meaning to some extent. They neither wanted to make a big fuss nor wanted the common people to know nothing.

So the annual gun-control debate also made no progress year after year.

This wasn't just "Happy America, shootings every day." It was simply because this world was truly too dangerous; if ordinary people weren't even allowed to own guns, they would look like little chicks in the eyes of those anomalies.

Then, the last very important thing: this year was 1990, and Henry's location was some nameless town, Alaska, USA.

When answering this question, Old John strangely added "Earth" at the very end to specify the town's location.

Whether Old John had noticed something or not, Henry didn't care; in fact, Old John didn't care much either.

He was a WWII veteran; both his sons died in the Vietnam War. Both sons had married, but neither had children.

The eldest daughter-in-law died of illness early on. The remaining second daughter-in-law had lost contact; it was said she had remarried.

In short, Old John was truly a lonely man with no ties. So guarding this small bar, he had muddled through these many years.

He wasn't afraid of Henry eating so much. He just occasionally reminded others that he wasn't a fool.

New book seeking follows, collections, and recommendations; thank you~~

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(End of this chapter)