After Victor and Clark left the bar, the noise inside slowly settled back into its usual rhythm.
Whitney and the other football players remained sprawled across the floor for a while, groaning in pain. Eventually, they struggled to their feet one by one. Their faces were bruised, their pride even worse off.
The humiliation stung more than the injuries.
They had attacked someone together and still hadn't even managed to touch his clothes. The laughter from the surrounding crowd echoed in their ears as they staggered toward the exit, supporting each other while trying to pretend nothing had happened.
The group slipped out of the bar awkwardly.
Not long after they left, a thin figure stepped out quietly from the shadows near the wall.
Jerome.
His cold gaze followed the football players in their baseball-style jackets as they disappeared down the street.
"There's no rush," he murmured softly. "There's plenty of time."
Jerome turned and walked back inside the bar.
He returned to his seat and resumed drinking slowly, his expression calm and empty.
Every now and then, his eyes drifted toward a muscular Black man in the corner who was loudly flirting with a woman. Jerome watched him with the same detached expression someone might use when staring at a corpse.
The plan couldn't be disrupted.
As for those high school football players…
Jerome's eyes flickered slightly.
Tomorrow night was the town high school's spring dance.
"I've never attracted attention at dances before," Jerome muttered with a faint sneer.
"But this time will be different."
He lifted his glass slowly.
"At this dance… I'll be the most dazzling one there."
…
"Put me down, Victor."
Clark stirred weakly as consciousness slowly returned to him.
He struggled slightly on Victor's shoulder.
"I don't want to go back."
Victor stopped walking.
"What?" he said flatly. "Eighteen-year-old Clark Kent planning to run away from home?"
In Victor's mind, this situation actually had a very simple solution.
It didn't require long emotional speeches or dramatic persuasion.
Victor raised his hand.
Chop.
Clark's eyes widened slightly as Victor struck the back of his neck with a precise blow.
Clark turned his head weakly and stared at his brother in confusion, clearly not understanding what Victor was doing.
"I'm running out of strength," Victor muttered.
Without kryptonite radiation, Clark's Kryptonian body was already beginning to recover. Even without sunlight, his natural resilience was returning rapidly.
Victor clicked his tongue.
Bang.
He delivered another chop.
This time the force was much stronger.
The strike was powerful enough that the shockwave rippled through the air like a gust of wind. Grass along the roadside bent violently as the pressure spread several meters outward.
Clark's eyes rolled back.
He fainted instantly.
"That should do it."
Victor casually hoisted Clark back onto his shoulder.
…
The quiet road stretched beneath the pale moonlight.
By the time Victor returned to the Kent farm, Clark's skin tone had already begun returning to normal.
Inside the house, warm light glowed through the windows.
Jonathan and Martha were still awake.
They were waiting for their sons to return.
Before entering the house, Victor pulled the glowing green kryptonite necklace out of his pocket.
He waved it slowly in front of Clark's face.
Almost immediately, Clark's recovering body reacted.
Even in unconsciousness, kryptonite radiation caused visible pain. His face turned pale again, his breathing growing shallow as if he were seriously ill.
Victor watched carefully for a moment.
Once he felt the effect was convincing enough, he pocketed the necklace with satisfaction.
"Kryptonians usually need months or even years of exposure to kryptonite before it becomes life-threatening," Victor muttered to himself.
"A short exposure like this is harmless."
Especially for Clark.
After all, Clark wasn't an ordinary Kryptonian.
"Of course," Victor added calmly, "I'm doing this for your own good."
He definitely wasn't doing it because the system had just given him notifications about Clark's pain levels increasing.
Victor adjusted Clark on his shoulder and walked inside.
"Oh my God!"
Martha gasped the moment she saw them.
"Victor, what happened to your brother?"
Jonathan's expression turned serious as he hurried forward.
"Clark?" he said in disbelief. "Why did he faint?"
Clark had been stronger than an ox since he was a child. In all these years, he had never once been sick or injured.
Seeing him pale and unconscious like this shocked both parents.
"I'm not sure," Victor said calmly.
"It looks like something went wrong with Clark's… super physique."
He said the words smoothly without the slightest change in expression.
"Put him down quickly," Martha said anxiously.
Jonathan carefully lifted Clark off Victor's shoulder and laid him on the couch.
Martha rushed to grab a glass of water and hurried back.
"Clark?" she called gently, worry filling her voice.
The couple hovered anxiously nearby.
Despite being middle-aged, they had never experienced their son being sick before.
"Mmm…"
Clark slowly regained consciousness.
He blinked groggily as the room came back into focus.
His parents were leaning over him, their faces full of worry.
They looked almost afraid to shake him too hard.
"Mom… Dad…"
Clark's voice was soft.
He stared at them as if seeing them for the first time.
For a moment, everything felt strangely distant.
When had his father's hair turned gray?
When had the deep lines formed on his weathered face?
Jonathan's once-powerful shoulders didn't look quite as strong as they used to.
Martha's eyes carried faint wrinkles now. Time had softened her features and loosened her skin.
The sight pierced Clark's heart like knives.
Memories flooded back.
When he was little, he used to ride on his father's shoulders while Jonathan ran across the fields.
Other fathers played catch with their sons, but Clark had never been interested in throwing a ball around. Jonathan had laughed helplessly and ended up playing those games with Victor instead.
Clark also remembered begging his mother to make corn dogs for him.
Scenes from the past surfaced one after another.
Clark's nose stung.
His eyes burned.
He suddenly realized something painful.
He had been the one wasting his parents' youth.
"They found me during the meteor shower," Clark thought.
"They raised me like their own son."
"They cared about my feelings more than Victor's sometimes."
They had never asked for anything in return.
They had never expected anything from him.
Clark knew very well that if his parents wanted to, they could have easily used his abilities.
With his strength, Clark could have been turned into the most famous high school football star in the country. They could have made enormous amounts of money instead of working hard on the farm every day.
But they had never done that.
Instead, they told him to hide his abilities.
All just to protect him.
"And I still complained about it…"
"Clark?" Martha asked anxiously. "What's wrong?"
Clark had been staring silently for too long.
She was beginning to worry something might be seriously wrong.
"Mom!"
Clark suddenly sat up.
His eyes were red with guilt.
He threw his arms around his parents and hugged them tightly.
"I was wrong, Dad."
"No matter who I really am… it doesn't change the fact that I'm your son."
He had been so foolish.
His parents had loved him for more than ten years without caring where he came from.
They gave him the warmest family he could ever ask for.
Yet he had run away after learning the truth.
"As long as you came back," Jonathan said with a relieved smile.
He glanced at Martha and hugged Clark firmly.
The tension in the room melted away.
"It seems someone gave up halfway and ran away from home."
Victor leaned casually against the doorway, clapping slowly with a teasing smile.
Clark scratched his head awkwardly.
"Victor…"
He felt a little embarrassed remembering his earlier breakdown.
[Happiness from Clark +14]
[Gratitude +7]
[Shame +5]
"You always understand things better than I do," Clark admitted.
Jonathan and Martha both nodded slightly.
Victor had always been the mature one.
They never had to worry about him.
"Clark," Martha said suddenly, remembering something. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"You looked terribly pale earlier."
Clark rubbed the back of his head.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Although the back of my head hurts… ah!"
He winced suddenly.
The pain felt like something had smashed into him from the sky.
Clark turned to look at Victor in confusion.
"Victor… did you—?"
Had he been weakened too much by Lana's kryptonite necklace?
Otherwise, how could a hit from his brother hurt this badly?
Victor calmly shifted the conversation.
"Maybe Whitney and the others injured him," he suggested casually.
"Injured?" Jonathan repeated.
"Clark, did they beat you?"
The sudden barrage of worried questions from his parents left Clark completely distracted.
He never found the chance to continue questioning Victor.
…
Later that night, under a clear sky filled with stars, Clark sat on the second floor of the farm's large storage barn.
The space stored various machines and tools used for farm work.
Through the open window, a cool breeze rustled the wheat fields outside.
Earlier, Clark had explained everything to his parents and reassured them that Whitney hadn't actually hurt him.
At least not physically.
Now the farm was quiet again.
Clark sat beside an astronomical telescope positioned near the window.
He peered through the lens toward a house about a kilometer away.
A small smile slowly appeared on his face.
Through the telescope, he could clearly see Lana sitting on the front steps of her house.
The beautiful black-haired girl was enjoying the evening breeze while working on an English report.
The most important detail was something else.
The green meteor necklace was no longer around her neck.
Clark couldn't help thinking about it.
Suddenly, a figure quietly approached Lana's house.
The person crouched behind some bushes and secretly snapped several photos of Lana.
After putting the camera away, the stranger deliberately shook the bushes.
Then he hurriedly placed a gift box near the steps before running away shyly.
Lana noticed the movement.
She walked over curiously and opened the box.
Several beautiful butterflies with colorful wings flew out, leaving behind faint trails of sparkling green dust.
The scene looked almost like something from a fairy tale.
Lana covered her mouth in surprise and looked down the street, trying to see who had left the gift.
"A secret admirer?"
Clark felt a slight sting of jealousy.
Lana really did attract attention everywhere she went.
He leaned closer to the telescope, trying to see the mysterious gift-giver more clearly.
"I remember someone asking Mom for three hundred dollars earlier," a voice suddenly said behind him.
Clark nearly jumped.
He turned around quickly.
Victor had quietly climbed the stairs and now stood behind him.
Victor glanced at the telescope and then toward the house it was pointed at.
"To be honest," Victor said slowly, raising an eyebrow, "when I first saw you staring out at the stars tonight, I thought you were searching for your real home after learning about your origins."
He tilted his head toward the telescope.
"But it turns out…"
....
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