SUP Chapter 1: In a Comic-Book World, Diagnosed with Mental Illness

Metropolis.

The sunlight was still fairly bright.

In a psychologist's office, a gentle breeze stirred the curtains, casting dappled light and shadows across them. The boy sat on a not-so-comfortable sofa, looking up at the psychologist before him.

"I don’t have a mental illness."

Ian Kent spoke softly.

"Most people who come here think they’re fine," the sharply dressed psychologist replied, his posture refined and upright, like a gentleman. A sleek notebook and a fountain pen rested on the desk in front of him.

"It’s just that my parents often find me waking up startled at night, so they think I need some counseling." Ian shifted his hips on the sofa, as if searching for the most comfortable position.

"What did you dream about?" the psychologist asked at the right moment, picking up his pen. His magnetic voice carried a quality that could coax someone into opening up.

But Ian had no such inclination.

"Teenagers always have some unrealistic fantasies they’re too embarrassed to talk about, right?" After a moment’s pause, Ian chose a vague response.

The psychologist nodded, his expression unchanged.

"I understand you don’t trust me yet. We can revisit this question later." He spoke while scribbling in his notebook.

From Ian’s position, he couldn’t see what the psychologist was writing.

"Maybe you could just prescribe me some medication."

Ian offered a suggestion. Compared to talk therapy, he preferred something cooler, like relying on science or grit. There were things in his heart he didn’t want others to pry into.

Like the fact that he was a transmigrator. Or that his father in this life was Superman, with ears sharper than a sonar detector. Or the world that appeared in his dreams every now and then.

In that world, everything seemed frozen. Snow fell relentlessly, carried by biting winds, while the outlines of broken buildings flickered faintly in the haze. Such a place could make anyone walking through it feel increasingly oppressed.

It might be a nightmare.

Or perhaps something else entirely.

In a world where anything was possible, Ian wasn’t sure what his dreams meant. He only knew he’d wake up startled the moment he heard a bell toll.

As Ian drifted into his memories, the psychologist stopped writing. "In my career, I haven’t seen many patients like you, proactively asking for medication."

He seemed slightly surprised.

"I firmly believe I don’t have a mental illness, but sometimes I do feel anxious…" Ian paused, then added, as if to cover his tracks, "It might be related to my heavy schoolwork. I think some medication could help calm me down."

The boy’s voice was sincere and frank.

The psychologist glanced at Ian’s head, as if checking for something pointy. "From what I know, your grades are exceptional."

He clearly doubted the source of Ian’s anxiety.

"That’s exactly why. To stay ahead of my peers, I face far more pressure than others." Ian gave a seemingly earnest but insincere answer.

"Hmm."

The psychologist nodded, his deep gaze locking with Ian’s for a long moment.

"I don’t think you’re telling the truth."

He stated his opinion bluntly and made another note in his book. Ian watched the psychologist’s actions in silence.

His anxiety didn’t stem from schoolwork.

In fact, as someone who scored over 700 on the college entrance exam in his past life but was forced to restart before attending university, the coursework at this public school wasn’t challenging for him.

The real source of Ian’s anxiety was his recently awakened "golden finger," the so-called transmigrator’s perk.

When a "ding" sounded in his mind, he knew he was no longer an ordinary person. But the system’s awakening didn’t bring him joy for long.

This system wasn’t like the sign-in systems, check-in systems, or even freeloader systems he’d dreamed of. It was more like an incomplete game’s character panel.

[Name: Ian Kent]

[Ordinary Occupation: Student Lv7 (12/640)]

[Extraordinary Occupation: None]

[World Recognition: Ordinary NPC]

[Strength: 0.7]

[Constitution: 1.5]

[Intelligence: 2.3]

[Mental: 2.5]

[Talent Skill: None]

[General Skill: Learning (Elite)]

[General Skill Points: 7]

…

There were no missions, no shop, no flashy features, just a panel that digitized Ian’s abilities and status.

The [Learning] skill was likely a carryover from his past life, naturally at [Elite] level, allowing him to learn new knowledge faster than most peers.

But since he hadn’t stepped into society in either life, and book knowledge didn’t manifest as skills, his skill list looked rather empty.

What truly made Ian anxious was the [World Recognition] on his system panel. The glaring "Ordinary NPC" label stung his eyes, making him wish his corneas would detach.

His liver, gallbladder, and kidneys felt like they were on the verge of collapse.

Wasn’t this the classic template for a sacrificial pawn, meant to awaken the potential and talents of his family? Ian had watched movies, so he naturally had his suspicions.

After all, American TV shows loved this trope.

And wasn’t he living in a comic-book world now? Ever since awakening this system, Ian had realized he wasn’t his parents’ biological child. What could be a better sacrifice to ignite Superman’s fighting spirit and unlock the hidden potential in his two older brothers’ bloodlines than an adopted son?

How could he survive?

This was the greatest anxiety for Ian, who had already died once. Though he was working hard to level up his [Student] occupation, aside from slight boosts to intelligence and mental attributes, he’d only gained seven general skill points. These were only good for learning skills like [Cooking] or [Dancing].

Studying might not change his fate.

This truth had become painfully clear to Ian.

It even left him somewhat desperate, which was why he suggested medication. But he couldn’t share the real reason for his anxiety with the psychologist.

Not just because it was a secret he couldn’t reveal.

But also because the psychologist his parents had chosen didn’t exactly have a name that inspired trust. Ian’s gaze drifted to the nameplate on the doctor’s desk.

[Hannibal Lecter]

Yes.

The moment he walked in, Ian had noticed the psychologist’s extraordinary name.

Damn those prejudices.

He could only hope he was truly just being paranoid.

[NEXT CHAPTER]