Lucinda swore she already had the entire plan intact in her head.
The original plan after she got hired was simple: blend into the wallpaper, move like a ghost, clean like a myth. A background extra with zero dialogue. A reliable houseplant with a mop.
But no.
The universe took one look at her plan and drop-kicked it off a cliff. So, everything changes by the minute. Hell yeah!
The very moment she got teleported inside Lex's office—materializing like some bootleg NPC glitch—everything unraveled. She got seen by Lex himself with Clark.
Then she got hired by Lex, which was already a catastrophe because apparently, she had no other plans. Then she got tangled in Tina Greer's Lex-impersonation fiasco earlier, became an unwilling witness of a bank robbery, got an identity, and now Clark was acting like she'd peered into his Kryptonian soul.
And now—now she was stuck inside a room with Lex, who had decided to interrogate her like she was some secret agent instead of a woman who forgot where she put her left sock this morning.
Lucinda's jaw clenched, her gaze locked on Lex as he loomed over her like a predator in expensive sweater. Every hair on her arms stood on end when she felt Lex's seriousness suffocating her weak lungs.
"You said you're from the Philippines, but you have no records at all," Lex's voice was smooth, but each word carried the weight of a scalpel. He leaned in slightly, eyes scanning her like he could see through bone. "No birth certificate, no any public medical records. If that's the case… either you've been living inside a cave or a rock—which you clearly haven't, considering your… skin texture," his gaze flicked to her arms. "Too smooth to be homeless. Too spotless to be a cave woman. You don't even have calluses on your hands, because clearly, you've never done any labor in your entire life."
Lucinda froze and started blinking rapidly.
"And you claimed to be uneducated," Lex continued, tilting his head like he was enjoying a private joke, "yet you speak English so fluently, I don't even hear any foreign accent."
Her spine stiffened. Her jaw twitched. Why did I not think about that? she berated herself silently.
Lex took another step closer, closing the distance with the ease of someone who'd spent a lifetime measuring fear. "You have so many questionable things on you, Lucy. And I have so many questions about how you ended up in my office with no one seeing you. So tell me—are you going to be honest with me, or am I going to squeeze everything out of you? So as you know, I'm not a very patient man you might think I am."
The words made her chest tighten. But despite the threat, some tiny part of her brain—the part that had survived dodging knives in PE class and dodging awkward encounters with local politicians—flared with mischievous defiance. A grin teased her lips, but she immediately yanked it back like a cat caught clawing at the furniture.
Lex's brows furrowed, sharp and intimidating. "What are you laughing at?"
Lucinda cleared her throat, trying to sound innocent while praying her brain would stop firing random commentary. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Luthor, I didn't mean to. Squeezing everything out of me kinda sounded… inappropriate—" she immediately grinned when Lex shot her a glare.
"Okay! Alright! I'm going to be honest now—" Lucinda raised both hands in defeat, palms outward like she was waving a white flag. Her shoulders sagged, though her eyes sparkled with the internal monologue let's not talk about.
She heaved a sigh, resting her face in her hands like she was already carrying the weight of three seasons of Smallville. "But before I say anything… can I have a favor though?"
Lex cocked a brow, perfectly arched. "You haven't even said a thing and yet you're already asking from me again?"
Lucinda grinned sheepishly, her shoulders doing that tiny shrug. "It's… for disclaimer purposes."
Lex stared at her like he was debating whether he wanted to smirk, groan, or punch a wall. Finally, he exhaled, the tiniest hint of defeat creeping into his perfect composure. "Alright. Say it."
"Promise me you won't send me to a psychiatric ward after I tell you everything?" she said, eyes wide, voice earnest. It wasn't like she was going to admit she was technically from another universe—that would be catastrophic.
Lex's lips twitched, caught somewhere between a smirk and disbelief. "I've already heard a lot of weird things, Lucy," he said slowly, letting the nickname roll off his tongue like a smooth melody. "After all, we are in Smallville. If you tell me you're an alien, so be it."
Lucinda blinked. "Weh?" She squinted at him, unsure if that was reassurance, sarcasm, or the calm before a catastrophic storm.
Lucinda's brain threw up a roulette wheel of catastrophic options—all of them are terrible, all of them are screaming in different dialects of panic. But she had to produce something, anything, fast. Otherwise, she might as well leap out the window and ensure her death was at least peaceful and aesthetically dramatic.
Lex blinked once. Slowly. Dangerously.
"Well?" His tone carried that cultured patience reserved for rich men who had none. "I don't have all day."
Cornered, sweating, and spiritually evaporating, Lucinda blurted the first catastrophic sentence her panic-possessed brain churned out:
"I'm from the future, Mr. Alexander Joseph 'Lex' Luthor, sir."
The words shot out like they were escaping a crime scene.
Lex's entire expression faltered—just a flicker, but enough to confirm she had caught him off guard. Not because she claimed she was from the future. No. Smallville had fried his threshold for weirdness long ago.
But because she said his full legal name.
A name not publicly advertised.
A name Clark didn't even know yet.
A name practically tucked behind ten layers of Luthor-family secrecy and probably a tax attorney.
Lex's eyes narrowed so sharply they could have dismembered someone.
"How'd you know my full name?" he asked, voice dropping low—too low. The kind of low that made Lucinda consider spontaneously fainting for her own protection. But no—she needed whatever shred of composure she had left if she wanted to preserve her tiny, fragile lifespan.
She sat a little straighter, hands raised like she was offering peace to an angry dragon. "You heard what I said, Mr. Luthor. I am from the future and, honestly, I have zero idea how I ended up here in 2001, in your office to be specific."
She blinked up at him innocently. "And to think I am from the Philippines. You see what I'm trying to say?"
The silence that followed was so thick she could practically hear Lionel judging her from the astral plane.
Lex didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't blink. He stood there like a statue carved out of suspicion and raw IQ.
Lucinda, however, took that moment to breathe—very, very carefully. Yes, she thought triumphantly. This is better. Much better than telling him I'm from a universe where he's not only fictional but also currently ruining my viewing schedule.
She watched Lex's expression shift—not outwardly, of course. Lex Luthor didn't shift. But something flickered behind his eyes. Calculation. Curiosity. Annoyance. Curiosity again.
He was processing, his sharp features tightening as if each word had to pass through a labyrinth before reaching comprehension. Then he blinked, long and deliberate, clearly spacing out. "From what year exactly?" His tone was careful, almost like he was asking someone to confirm the existence of unicorns.
Lucinda blinked back. This is it—her one chance to set the record straight without accidentally triggering an interdimensional incident. "2023, Mr. Luthor." She added the last word like it was a spell, hoping it carried some weight.
Lex slowly nodded, as though confirming a mathematical equation no one else could see. "That's why you have no records yet. You're… 22 years old," he murmured, each number weighed with curiosity and something faintly amused, "which means… you were only born this year." His voice softened, drifting toward that rare tone he reserved for… thinking aloud, or whispering to ghosts.
Another lie, of course. Lucinda was unmistakably from 2025, but for the sake of this act to succeed, she needed some… creative editing. A little chronological contouring. Strategic time-warp cosmetics.
Suddenly Lex's eyes sharpened on her again. "So, the human trafficking, the homeless thing, and everything you said from the very beginning are all lies?"
Lucinda gave a grin that would've gotten her rejected from every poker table in Nevada.
Lex's jaw tightened, and he narrowed his eyes with that signature, aristocratic disappointment. "Your capabilities for lying are very alarming, Lucy. Although," he conceded with a sigh that sounded far older than he was, "I understand, since you must be confused yourself."
Lucinda nodded, the picture of faux remorse, as if she were accepting an award for Best Actress in a Category She Invented.
"And I assume Clark already has suspicions about you?"
Lucinda nodded again. "I did mention the glowing green thing I kinda saw on your evil twin."
Lex nodded slowly, as if she were a barely plausible scientific theory. "Very well."
Lucinda blinked. "You're not gonna ask what that glowing green thing, sir?"
Lex suddenly heaved a deep sigh—the kind that came from a man juggling corporate empires, meteor mysteries, and now… her. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, a subtle gesture of fatigue that still somehow looked annoyingly elegant.
"Normally, I would," he admitted, tone low, steady, and unmistakably exasperated. "But I have things to do, Lucy. So…"
He lifted a single finger between them. "We'll discuss more of this later."
Lucinda blinked, a tremor of dread rattling up her spine. "M–More?" She squeaked it out like someone discovering that the sequel to their punishment was already in production.
"Yes, Lucy. More."
The way he said it—calm, sure, and mildly entertained—felt like a warning disguised as a promise. Something in his tone suggested she had just been placed on a very elegant, very private to-do list.
"For now," Lex continued, giving her a once-over that was far too observant for Lucinda's comfort, "I need you to do something for me. Follow me to my office…"
His gaze drifted downward. Paused.
Then lifted back to her face with the most offensively neutral expression she had ever seen a human wear but clearly amused.
"…after you keep your lacy underwears in place."
Lucinda choked on air. Actually choked. A full-body gasp that made her sound like a hamster being gently stepped on.
Before she could even lunge for the nearest offending garment—traitorous, sparkling pink lace mocking her from all directions—Lex had already turned on his heel and walked off, hands clasped behind him like nothing happened.
"I-I'm fine with the Barbie ones, Mr. Lu—"
Then the door clicked shut.