"Don't worry, Mr. Jack."
Inside the manor office, Lex Luthor leaned forward slowly. His arms crossed over his chest as a cold smile spread across his face, like a prehistoric predator finally revealing rows of sharp teeth.
"A wonderful new life is waiting for you."
"M-my name is Nickerson," the reporter stammered.
"That was your old name," Lex replied calmly. "From now on you'll be Jack."
He tilted his head slightly as if thinking.
"Jack… Baker? Benson? Or maybe Johnson?"
His tone was casual, almost playful, like someone deciding what to eat for lunch.
But to Nickerson, it felt like he was staring into a bottomless abyss. A chill crawled down his spine.
"What kind of job should you have in this new life?" Lex continued thoughtfully. "A killer? A drug dealer? A gang member?"
He paused for a moment.
"Or perhaps a terrorist."
Every single identity he listed sounded like something that would inevitably lead to being hunted down and killed.
"I—I can give you the money back."
Nickerson swallowed hard and hurriedly placed the bag of cash back on the desk.
Family. Career. Friends.
Everything he had built over half his life would disappear if this man erased him.
He couldn't accept that.
"Is this how my money looked before it left my table?" Lex asked with mild curiosity.
Nickerson immediately dumped the cash out of the bag. His hands trembled as he stacked the crisp bills back into their original piles.
Cold sweat rolled down his forehead.
When he looked at Lex again, his expression was full of fear, like someone staring at a devil who could decide life or death with a single word.
"Mr. Luthor…"
"You thought you could blackmail me?"
Lex stood up slowly.
His expression hardened, his presence suddenly oppressive and dangerous.
"Did you think I was just some spoiled rich kid hiding behind my father's protection?"
His voice grew louder with each word.
Nickerson's legs trembled so badly he nearly collapsed to his knees.
"You're not the first person to make that mistake," Lex continued coldly. "And every person I've erased has never appeared again."
His eyes locked onto the reporter.
"Tell me something, Mr. Nickerson. Who do you think actually runs this country?"
"Mr… Mr. Luthor," Nickerson stammered, his voice shaking as if a tidal wave was about to crush him. "What… what do you want me to do?"
"You're one of the top reporters in the metropolis," Lex said calmly again. "Yet when it comes to gathering information at the lower levels of society, you're still far behind me."
He turned slightly toward the window.
"I want you to investigate something for me."
"Y-yes… please tell me."
"There's a family in this town named Kent."
Lex slowly pulled open the heavy curtains. Sunlight poured into the room, but it did nothing to brighten the cold darkness in his eyes.
"I want everything about them."
His voice lowered.
"Every detail."
"I understand," Nickerson said immediately, nodding frantically. "I'll investigate everything."
"And one more thing."
Nickerson lowered his head quickly like an obedient servant.
"What else, Mr. Luthor?"
"This town," Lex said slowly, "is fascinating."
He looked out across the manor grounds.
"I've only been here a few days," he continued quietly, "but I've already seen glimpses of its secrets."
Those glimpses were enough to haunt his thoughts.
First there was Clark—the boy who had been struck by a sports car traveling nearly two hundred miles per hour, thrown from a bridge… and walked away unharmed while saving Lex's life.
Then there was the high school girl who could somehow transform into his exact appearance and rob a bank.
And beyond those events, there were countless strange rumors circulating among the town's residents online.
Lex smiled faintly.
"This place feels like a dream."
His voice was almost reverent.
"I want to uncover every secret hidden in this town."
Nickerson swallowed nervously.
"You will get what you want, Mr. Luthor."
After the reporter left the manor, Lex watched his car disappear down the road.
He slowly raised his glass and took another sip of whiskey.
"Thank you, Nickerson," he murmured quietly.
"Luckily it was someone as foolish and cowardly as you who discovered my weakness first."
His lips curled slightly.
"If someone more troublesome had found it, things might have become inconvenient."
He set the glass down.
"And I was just beginning to lack manpower."
A faint smile appeared.
"You came to my door at the perfect time."
…
"What are your names, gentlemen?"
Inside the nursing home, Cassandra stood calmly with a warm smile on her face.
Her white eyes and gray hair gave her an almost serene presence.
"My name is Clark."
"David Kent."
Clark introduced himself first. David followed immediately afterward.
"Brothers Kent?"
Cassandra gestured toward two chairs beside the bed.
"Please sit."
After they sat down, Clark hesitated before asking the question he had been thinking about.
"Ma'am, I heard you can predict the future."
He glanced briefly at David.
After encountering several people with strange abilities recently, both brothers had started to suspect that such things might truly exist.
Clark turned back toward Cassandra.
"Is that… really true?"
Anyone would be curious about the future.
Especially if the prediction might actually be real.
"The first time it happened," Cassandra said softly, "I thought it was a curse."
She smiled gently.
"Or maybe a hallucination."
She folded her hands together.
"When I touch someone, visions appear before my eyes," she explained. "Events I cannot control… moments from that person's future."
"Later," she continued, "I realized it was a gift."
"A gift meant to compensate for what I lost."
Clark blinked in surprise.
The old woman didn't seem concerned about hiding her ability at all. She spoke openly about it to strangers she had only just met.
For a moment Clark wondered if she might actually be mistaken about her own powers.
But then he remembered what had just happened to Peter.
Something supernatural had clearly occurred.
"Clark," David said calmly, "stop thinking disrespectful thoughts."
Unlike Clark, David had already confirmed that Cassandra's ability was genuine.
"When you reach Ms. Cassandra's age," he added thoughtfully, "many things in life simply stop feeling worth hiding."
Clark suddenly understood.
"Sorry, Ms. Cassandra," he said quickly.
"It's alright," the old woman replied with a soft laugh.
"When did your precognition begin?" Clark asked.
For a long time he had suspected that the strange events in this town were connected to the meteor shower years ago.
He had a strong feeling that many of the people with unusual abilities had gained them because of those meteorites.
But he had never found proof.
"One morning," Cassandra said quietly, "I woke up like any other day."
Her expression remained peaceful.
"Then a meteorite crashed into the wheat field in front of my house."
"The flash burned my optic nerves," she explained. "The doctors said it destroyed my vision."
"In a single moment, my life changed completely."
"I'm sorry," Clark said softly.
As he listened to her story, guilt crept into his chest.
The meteor shower had arrived at the same time he did.
In a way, he had always feared that he had brought disaster to the lives of many people on this planet.
"It wasn't your fault, child," Cassandra said kindly.
She thought Clark was apologizing for bringing up her blindness.
"Kindness is always a good thing," David said calmly.
"But some things in the world are beyond your control, my brother."
His meaning was clear.
Clark hadn't chosen to come to Earth.
He shouldn't blame himself for everything that happened afterward.
Clark felt slightly relieved after hearing that.
At the same time, he was surprised.
It was the first time David had comforted him so gently.
"Since that day," Cassandra continued softly, "I lost the ability to see the present."
"But I gained the ability to see the future of others."
She slowly extended her hand.
"Would you like to try it?"
Clark hesitated.
He wasn't sure whether activating Cassandra's ability might exhaust her or cause some kind of strain.
After all, he had come here to volunteer, not to ask an elderly woman to reveal his future.
Outside the room, however, a tall and beautiful girl with long black hair quietly approached.
She moved silently like a hunter in the forest.
Pressing her back against the wall beside the door, she listened carefully to the conversation inside.
"Sometimes," David said thoughtfully, "people can only glimpse a small fragment of someone else's future."
He looked toward Cassandra.
"That's why you help people see those glimpses and guide them when you can… isn't it?"
"You're a clever young man," Cassandra said with approval.
"The world is beautiful," she continued softly.
"It's filled with colors, white clouds drifting across the sky, and endless green fields beneath a bright blue heaven."
Her voice carried a hint of nostalgia.
"Light is always better than darkness," she said gently. "Especially for someone who once had sight."
After hearing that, Clark no longer hesitated.
He reached out his hand toward the kind blind woman.
"Please," he said quietly.
....
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