Night finally settled over the Luthor mansion, coating the halls in that expensive kind of silence Lucinda was convinced could charge rent.
With nothing left to do, she sat on the edge of her new bed—smaller than last night's luxurious queen-size, but still soft enough to make her question her entire socioeconomic standing.
It was a charming, smaller Victorian-style—cream-colored carvings, ornate wooden posts, and quilted blankets that looked like they were sewn by someone who embroidered while judging people silently.
The entire room matched the theme: elegant wallpaper, old brass lamps, a carved wardrobe that probably hid ghosts or unpaid interns, and a window draped in velvet curtains.
It wasn't as enormous as the previous night's guest room, but it also didn't scream "maid quarters." It screamed, "old-money dollhouse with mild hauntings."
Hands folded over her knees, chin resting atop her fingers, she stared ahead like a budget supervillain brooding over an evil monologue.
Unfortunately for her dramatic pose, she had almost nothing to show for her eavesdropping mission earlier. The only solid clue she'd wrestled from Clark and Lex's conversation was about Clark's football coach getting flambéed. After that, the two men had spoken so quietly she was convinced they'd entered a telepathic bond. She could barely hear them breathe, let alone get useful intel.
Clark left eventually. Lex didn't even stay for dinner—of course he didn't. He flew back to Metropolis like the dramatic billionaire he was.
When will the next episode starts? Right away? If that's the case, then tomorrow was Tina Greer Day.
Lucinda rubbed her face. Tina Greer—the Lana-obsessed girl with the flexible bones and identity-theft issues. After being meteor-rocked as a kid, she gained the ability to shape-shift into any person she wanted. And tomorrow, she would use that cursed talent to rob a bank… as Lex.
"Nice," Lucinda muttered and paced.
If her memory still serves her right—and hopefully doesn't betray her the way her past life had—Lex would be fine.
Tina hadn't copied his fingerprints or signature. Plus, he'd have an alibi: he was hosting… something. Something. Lucinda didn't quite remember what.
A fundraiser? A business thing? A Luthor thing? Something with hors d'oeuvres probably.
Didn't matter.
She'd be in the mansion all day tomorrow anyway. Plot safety: activated. Tina Greer arc: handled by canon and let's call that canon Clark Kent.
Lucinda grinned to herself. "Everything will go just like the episode tomorrow."
As if the universe wanted to ruin her moment, a knock sounded.
She bolted upright and opened the door—only to find Molly standing there, buried behind a mountain of paper bags like a shopaholic pack mule.
"Woah—what's all that?" Lucinda blinked, leaning on the doorframe.
"They're all for you," Molly said with a mischievous wink. "From Mr. Luthor. He was worried you might start smelling like rotten fish in a few days, so he got you these."
Lucinda's soul left her body in embarrassment.
Molly didn't wait for an invitation. She marched right inside and dropped the paper bags onto Lucinda's bed with a dramatic fwump.
The bed bounced lightly.
Lucinda pressed her lips together. "Rotten fish… really?"
Molly snorted. "Well, you did tell him you haven't brushed your teeth since
... Forever."
Lucinda closed her eyes. She was never opening her mouth in front of Lex again. Not without a mint. Not without divine intervention. Maybe even a certified exorcism.
She shut the door and followed Molly to the edge of the bed.
"Well, go on…" Molly gestured grandly at the paper bags, as if revealing treasure—or evidence. Whichever comes first.
Lucinda tugged one open. "This is… flattering," she breathed, pulling out the first item like it might bite her.
"Well, Mr. Luthor had them delivered while you were still working. Very thoughtful," Molly announced. "Becayse he had to. He said—and I quote—'if she's going to run around the mansion looking like she escaped a dumpster fire, she might as well smell better than one.'"
Lucinda clasped her chest. "H-He said that?!"
"Verbatim," Molly nodded with the grave pride of someone sworn to protect the nuclear codes.
Lucinda wanted to sink beneath the floorboards and die quietly in the walls like a Victorian ghost.
Of course Lex noticed she hadn't brushed her teeth. Of course he thought she smelled like expired optimism. Of course he sent hygiene products instead of firing her.
She approached the other bags, hands trembling.
Molly plopped onto the dainty Victorian bed; it squeaked in agony. "Go on. Check the rest. He was oddly specific with brands. Unnaturally specific."
Lucinda pulled out the next item—and froze. "M-Molly… this is perfume."
"Yes."
"It's expensive perfume."
"Yes."
"It's—Chanel No. 5," Lucinda squinted at the gold-trimmed label. "Holy mother of meteor rocks."
"And that's not even the most expensive one," Molly said with a shrug that screamed tax bracket indifference.
Lucinda reached deeper and unearthed an entire hygiene arsenal: shampoos, conditioners, lotions, three types of soap that looked like they came with NDAs, a curated set of cosmetics, a sleek black hairbrush, a silk robe, slippers, a matching pajama set—And finally, the pièce de résistance, a Barbie underwear.
Lucinda's eye twitched.
"Ahhh, yeah~ he didn't know your age, but we both agreed you're 14," Molly mumbled. "He said something about how it would be disrespectful for a man to ask a woman for her age."
Lucinda turned slowly, ominously. "Molly. I'm just small, but I'm already 22."
Molly inhaled so sharply she nearly vacuum-sealed Lucinda's soul.
"Shut UP!" she gasped, scanning Lucinda's five-foot frame like it had betrayed her personally. "So you just… stopped growing at 5'0?"
Lucinda nodded, eyes shining with tragic dignity. "Sad. Truly."
Molly placed a solemn hand on her shoulder, wiping an imaginary tear. "It's fine. I'll tell Mr. Luthor to refund these and get you lacey underwear next time."
"It's okay, Molly. Please don't."
"Oh, but Mr. Luthor said—quoting again—'if she's going to work near my wine collection, the scent of tilapia shouldn't overpower a Domaine de la Romanée-Conti.' so you better wear those."
Lucinda slapped a hand over her heart, staggering. "I DO NOT smell like tilapia, Molly!"
Molly raised a brow. "Well… you don't smell like not tilapia either."
Lucinda screamed internally, throat vibrating at a frequency only dogs and Kryptonians could hear.
She picked up the silk robe, fingertips brushing the luxurious fabric, trying not to look emotionally moved. "Why would Mr. Lex Luthor buy all this for me? This is like—this is like—"
"A bribe?" Molly offered.
Lucinda blinked and then nodded.
"Perhaps because it is a bribe," Molly remarked, her smile bone-dry. "Lex has spent years clawing his way out of his father's shadow, trying to prove he's his own man. But you know the saying that the fruit doesn't exactly roll down the hill and start a new life. It usually lands about two inches from the tree and sulks there."
Lucinda heaved a deep breath. "It's just a fruit doesn't fall far from the tree, Molly."
Molly shrugged. "Same thing. Now go! Get some bath and keep yourself fresh from now on."
Lucinda grimaced. "I don't even smell bad, Molly."
"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Luthor has a sensitive sense of smell." Molly sniffed in demonstration, as though confirming the tragic fact. "I'll be leaving now…"
She stood, marched toward the door, then whirled back so sharply Lucinda flinched.
"Oh, and wake up early tomorrow."
Lucinda blinked. "Early?"
"We're going to town to buy fresh fruits for Mr. Lionel," Molly said this with the gravity of a general announcing deployment. Then she left—door shut, footsteps fading, no room for objections, appeals, or prayer.
Lucinda turned back to the paper bags—mountains of luxury hygiene—and froze as the realization punched her in the soul.
"Town?! Tomorrow?!"
Her brain immediately split into two unhelpful halves.
Half One (Responsible Adult):
If the next episode starts tomorrow, you absolute goblin, leaving the mansion is suicidal. Tina Greer will be impersonating Lex, robbing banks, causing chaos. You need to stay put. Stay safe. Stay boring.
Half Two (Fermented Gremlin Child):
But… Smallville. The actual Smallville. The set. The sights. The tractor shops. The cornfields. The aesthetic.
Lucinda pressed both palms to her cheeks, spiraling.
If tomorrow truly was Season 1, Episode 3 → "Hothead" bleeding into Episode 4 → "X-Ray", then she had no business gallivanting into a city where identity-shifting teenagers committed federal crimes.
But also... "When will I ever get another chance to see Smallville with my own two 2025 eyeballs?!"
Her reflection in the Victorian mirror stared back at her, looking equal parts terrified and tempted.
She inhaled deeply—dramatically, heroically, like a telenovela protagonist preparing to ruin her life on purpose.
"Maybe…" she whispered, smiling at her own delusion. "Maybe it's not tomorrow. Maybe the episode starts another day. Yes. Yes, exactly."
Lucinda nodded to herself with the confidence of someone actively gaslighting their entire nervous system.
"I can't miss the fun."
And truly—if fate intended to punish her… it could at least do so with scenic views. She had no intentions of escaping the mansion. Not yet. She needed the job to survive while figuring out how to return to the real world in 2025. Preferably without dying, time-looping, or being murdered by a shapeshifter obsessed with Lana Lang.
Lucinda exhaled the deepest, most dramatic breath known to mankind, then forced herself to get cleaned up. Between the Chanel No. 5, the suspiciously luxurious shampoo, and the silk robe that felt like it cost more than her college tuition, she emerged looking like someone who had accidentally wandered into the wrong socioeconomic class.
The night passed far too quickly. Before she knew it, her alarm rang, and she sprang out of bed like a guilty soul preparing for judgment day. She was fully dressed—inside-out clothes corrected, breath mint secured, dignity somewhere on the floor—by the time Molly would usually knock.
She slipped out and headed to the kitchen, where she found Jess, the young maid, quietly arranging a woven basket and filling it with ice packs.
Lucinda cleared her throat. "Good morning."
Jess glanced up, blinked once, and offered the smallest nod known to human civilization. "Good morning."
The girl returned to tucking cloth over the basket's edges with monk-like serenity.
Lucinda attempted to mirror that serenity… until her face twisted.
Because the Barbie underwear—dear heavens—was currently climbing up her soul.
She winced, doing a tiny, discreet hop in place. "Fucking Barbie," she hissed through clenched teeth, trying to pull at the waistband without looking like she was mining for gold.
Jess paused.
Slowly… very slowly… Jess looked at Lucinda's absolutely feral micro-dance.
Lucinda froze like a deer in headlights.
Jess, expression blank, simply murmured, "The bathroom is behind you."
Lucinda wanted to die. Immediately. Preferably by meteor rock.
"Thank you," she squeaked, waddling off like a malfunctioning penguin while Jess pretended—bless her heart—to see absolutely nothing.
By the time Lucinda stepped outside, Molly was already waiting by the car, tapping her foot like she'd been standing there since the Ming Dynasty.
They headed out immediately. Lucinda, for one glorious, deranged second, genuinely expected they'd climb into some kind of Victorian horse-drawn carriage—lace curtains, lanterns, maybe a dramatic neigh to set the tone.
But of course not.
She was working for a billionaire, not a Bridgerton extra.
Lex Luthor had cars.
CARS.
Capslock-worthy CARS.
Every gleaming chrome detail screamed poging mayaman with parental issues.
Molly slid into the driver's seat of the sleek black SUV like she was born to chauffeur royalty.
"It's one of Mr. Luthor's," she said casually. "He uses this one for… groceries."
Groceries. Of course. Why not use a luxury SUV to buy apples? That was the Lex Luthor brand.
Jess sat quietly in the back seat beside Lucinda, hands folded neatly, looking like she was trying not to exist too loudly. She hadn't spoken a word the entire drive—Lucinda was honestly starting to wonder if Jess had taken a vow of silence.
Eventually, the SUV rolled into Smallville's town square—and Lucinda nearly vibrated out of her atoms.
It looked exactly like the set:
– Quaint brick storefronts.
– The Talon's iconic signage peeking from a distance. As of the moment, it's not a coffee shop managed by Lana yet.
– Random citizens walking around looking suspiciously like extras.
– and that signature small-town charm.
Lucinda's grin stretched so wide she might've ascended.
The three of them climbed out, baskets in hand, dressed in peak early-2000s fashion:
low-rise jeans, questionable layers, and colors that should have been illegal.
"Well," Molly announced, adjusting her cardigan like a general preparing troops, "you two can go around if you want to buy something for personal use while I run errands," she pointed at them sternly. "You can leave the baskets here first. But be back in thirty minutes."
Lucinda and Jess nodded obediently, watching Molly march away. Only when she disappeared into a shop did Lucinda release the squeal she'd been holding hostage in her throat.
Smallville. Actual, real-life Smallville.
"I'll buy some medicines for my allergies," Jess said out of nowhere.
Lucinda turned to her and nodded. "I'll go there," she said, pointing at a clothing shop that might—or might not—contain her dignity. Jess nodded in perfect synchronicity, and the two split up.
Lucinda window-shopped with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. She avoided eye contact with every passerby. Every smile. Every pedestrian. Anything that might catapult her into ruining a episode.
But of course, Fate—ever the attention-seeker—had other plans.
A shrill alarm suddenly shrieked across the town like a banshee auditioning for Broadway. Lucinda gasped when a nearby door swung open with a suspicious timing.
The moment she turned to the direction, she squinted almost right away when something shiny hit her eyes. But that something shiny was so familiar, she immediately shut her eyes open.
"ANAK NG TUPANG GALA—" Lucinda screamed internally, though her mouth almost caught up. Because Lex—or rather, the terrifying doppelgänger Tina—was sprinting toward her with a bag slung over his back, looking exactly like in that episode!
Lucinda's survival instincts kicked in. She was about to run when—she collided with someone solid. Clark.
Lucinda immediately held her right hand before it unconsciously touch Clark's perfectly sculpted abs. "Behave yourself, you little shit!" She whispered to her own hand.
"Lucy?" Clark said, hands gripping her arms. "What are you doing here?!"
"Who the hell is Lucy—" Lucinda immediately shook her head and before she could formulate a semi-plausible excuse, Tina in the form of Lex, tumbled spectacularly in front of them, basically sandwiching Lucinda with two men so hot she could evaporate.
Clark, hero that he is, immediately pivoted, hugging Lucinda like she was the last Airbender.
"Lex?!" Clark gasped, eyes wide. But Lex-Tina didn't even glance back—he ran past them like physics was optional.
That's when Clark held his head. Lucinda could only watch him. She knew Clark is already engaging to an X-ray vision. That's how the episode went!
But for the love of anything unholy, the scene shouldn't be like this!
Clark should be the only one to catch Tina, who—of course—was masquerading as Lex. He confronts Lex-Tina, only to be hurled into the shop beside them like a ragdoll. And that's how Clark's X-ray vision kicks in. Tina's skeleton should have blinked at him in defiance.
Panicking that Clark might completely miss the Kryptonite lodged inside Tina's Lex-shaped body—and thus doom the entire episode—Lucinda went full emergency mode. Without thinking, she grabbed Clark's face like a frantic stage director.
"OPEN YOUR EYES, CLARK!! USE YOUR X-RAY VISION! YOU SHOULD SEE THAT GREEN THING!!" she squeaked, her voice cracking somewhere between a banshee and a cartoon character.
Clark blinked. Hesitated. Refused. But Lucinda only dug in harder—figuratively, thankfully—and finally, like a reluctant student forced to pay attention, Clark's gaze landed on the truth. Lex—or rather, Tina's skeleton, pulsing with green Kryptonite horror.
Clark froze. His jaw slackened. The streets around them blurred into a background for the single most confusing display of human—or Kryptonian—physics he'd ever witnessed. He only stared at Lex-Tina in surprise until he finally disappeared in the streets.
"H-How did you know…" Clark muttered, his voice a mix of awe and confusion. Then he looked down at Lucinda.
"K-Know what?" Lucinda blinked, slowly letting go of Clark's face, grinning to feign innocence.
She was about to make her heroic exit while Clark is still being damned with his newly-discovered abilities—vanishing into anonymity like any normal bystander—when two cops suddenly materialized out of nowhere.
Apparently, she and Clark were both invited to the police station… to give statements.
"POTANGINAAAA!!!!"
Lucinda's internal scream could probably be heard across the multiverse.