I'm Doing This For Your Own Good, Clark

After Clark and David left.

Whitney and a few football players who had been knocked to the ground struggled to get up after a while.

Several of them had gone after one guy and hadn't even touched his clothes. Under the crowd's jeers, they limped away, supporting each other in disgrace.

No sooner had they stepped out the door than a thin figure emerged from the bar, staring coldly at the retreating group in baseball jerseys.

"No rush. There's plenty of time."

He murmured, then turned back into the bar to slowly sip his drink, his gaze occasionally sweeping over a burly Black man hitting on someone in the corner. His face was expressionless, as if looking at a corpse.

The original plan couldn't be disrupted.

As for those equally rotten high school jocks.

He remembered tomorrow night was the small-town high school's Spring Dance.

"I never caught anyone's eye at a dance before. But this time's different." Jeremy smirked coldly.

He would be the most dazzling one there.

"Put me down, David."

Clark woke up weakly, struggling to get off David's shoulder.

"I'm not going back."

He hadn't figured out how to face his parents yet.

"What, eighteen-year-old Clark wants to run away from home?"

David thought this problem had a very simple solution—no need for melodramatic back-and-forth.

He raised his hand and chopped down.

Smack!

His neck was struck. Clark turned back in confusion to look at his brother, not understanding what he was up to.

"Not enough force."

Seeing this, David clicked his tongue.

Away from Kryptonite radiation, even without sunlight, Clark was slowly starting to recover.

Thump!

He added another blow.

The terrifying force could have shattered a tank with a single hand-chop. The shockwave spread over ten meters like a gale, violently shaking the weeds on both sides of the road.

Clark's eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

"Got it."

His skin tone returned to normal on the dim road. David carried the unconscious Clark back to the farm.

The couple was still waiting inside the house for their two sons to return, the warm light spilling from the doorway.

Before going in, he pulled out the glowing green Kryptonite necklace and waved it around Clark's face, applying a layer of "makeup."

Exposed to Kryptonite radiation, Clark—who had mostly recovered—twisted his face in pain even in his coma, his complexion pale and weak, as if struck by a serious illness.

Satisfied that it was enough, David put the Kryptonite away.

"A Kryptonian needs to be exposed to Kryptonite for months or even years before it's life-threatening."

Short-term exposure was fine, especially since Clark wasn't an ordinary Kryptonian.

"Of course, I'm doing this for your own good, Clark."

He definitely wasn't doing it for some notification like "Clark's pain +3, +2" or whatever.

David smiled and carried Clark inside.

"Oh my God, David, what happened to your brother?"

Seeing this, Martha gasped and covered her mouth.

"Clark, how did he pass out?"

Jonathan's face was full of disbelief. Clark had been stronger than an ox since he was a kid, never sick or injured. It was the first time the couple had seen him like this—pale-faced and unconscious.

"I'm not sure either. Looks like something's wrong with Clark's superhuman constitution."

David said without a hint of guilt.

"Get him lying down."

Jonathan carefully took Clark from his younger son's shoulders and laid him flat on the couch.

Martha quickly poured a glass of water, hurried to the couch, and called out to her son anxiously.

"Clark?"

The couple was both flustered.

After all, though they were middle-aged, they had never dealt with their son falling ill before.

"Mm."

Feeling a shake, Clark groggily woke up.

His parents were anxiously gathered around him, their eyes thick with unshakable concern, careful not to jostle him too hard.

"Father, Mother..."

Back in the warm, familiar home, with his parents before him, he felt dazed.

He'd almost forgotten when—his father's hair had grown gray, his face weathered, his body no longer so strong; his mother's eyes had been etched with wrinkles by time, her skin loose—everything stabbed into his eyes like knives.

He only remembered how, as a kid, he loved riding on his father's shoulders while his father ran around, and how he had no interest in the passing games other fathers and sons played, leaving his father no choice but to play with David instead.

Oh, and there was that phase when he loved corn dogs, always pestering his mother to make them... Scenes from the past flashed before his eyes.

Clark's nose stung like he'd been punched, uncontrollably sour—he had drained his parents' youth.

"My parents found me in the Meteor Shower, raised me like their own son, even cared more about my feelings and emotions than they did about David."

"They never asked anything from me, never thought of getting anything from me."

They could've easily used his abilities, packaged him as a promising football or soccer star kid to rake in big money, without having to toil endlessly on the farm day in and day out, but they never did.

"They even kept telling me to hide my powers, just to protect me, and I was annoyed by it..."

"Clark, what's wrong?" Seeing her son dazed and silent for so long, Martha grew more anxious, afraid something was wrong with his health.

"Mother!"

Clark's eyes reddened, and he suddenly stood up, full of guilt, spreading his arms to tightly hug the couple who loved him most in this world.

"I was wrong, Father."

"No matter what I am, it doesn't change that I'm your son."

How stupid he'd been—his parents never cared about his identity; for over a decade, they'd given him the best like their own son, the warmest love in the world.

And he'd agonized over that after learning the truth.

"As long as you're back, Clark, that's enough."

Jonathan's heart settled, a faint smile crossing his face as he exchanged a relieved glance with Martha, and hugged his son back.

"Looks like someone's given up on running away?"

Leaning against the doorframe, David clapped his hands with a slightly teasing look. Clark felt a bit embarrassed and spoke to his brother.

From Clark: Happiness +14, Gratitude +7, Shame +5...

"You always see things clearer than I do, David."

Jonathan and Martha agreed—their younger son was smart and mature, never giving them any worry.

"Clark, are you okay?"

The warm family atmosphere returned to normal, but Martha remembered her son's pale face earlier. "Why did you look like you were sick?"

"I'm fine, except for the back of my head... Ss!"

Clark touched the back of his head, as if he'd been hit by a falling rocket, wincing in pain as he sucked in a breath, and looked up at David in confusion.

"David, you...?"

Was he that weakened by Lana's necklace? How could his brother hit him so hard?

That shouldn't be...

"Looks like that was a bit too heavy again."

A thought crossed his mind, and David smoothly changed the subject.

"Maybe Clark got hurt by Whitney and the others."

"Hurt? Clark, you got into a fight?"

Just as Clark was about to ask David what was going on, he was immediately bombarded with worried questions from Jonathan and Martha, and he lost his chance to press David further.

Under the starry sky, in the large barn on the farm where machinery and tools were stored.

On the second floor, by the open window, Clark explained everything to his parents, finally convincing them he wasn't hurt at all.

At least not from Whitney and the others...

A gentle breeze blew, rustling the wheat fields of the farm, peaceful and quiet, just like before.

Clark sat by the window, gazing through the astronomical telescope at the unobstructed view a kilometer away, a smile unconsciously spreading across his lips.

In the telescope, in front of a house, a graceful figure with black hair sat on the porch steps, writing an English report in the evening breeze.

Most importantly, that green necklace was no longer around her neck—this made his imagination run wild...

Suddenly, in his view, a figure crept sneakily toward Lana's house, snapped a few photos of her from behind the bushes, then put away the camera, deliberately rustled the grass, nervously dropped a gift box, and ran off.

Lana walked over curiously and opened the gift box.

Several butterflies with colorful wings and a faint green, shimmering dust fluttered out, like a scene from a fairy tale.

She gasped in surprise, covering her mouth, and looked toward the street, trying to find who had given her the gift.

"A suitor?"

Clark felt a twinge of bitterness in his heart. Lana's charm was truly extraordinary.

He decided to see who the gift-giver was, and whether he knew them.

"I recall someone asking Mom for three hundred dollars, saying they were really interested in astronomy?"

Suddenly, a voice came from behind. Clark startled and turned around.

David slowly walked up from the stairs, his expression odd and surprised.

"Honestly, when I first saw you using that thing to look outside, I thought you'd learned about your origins and were sadly searching the stars for your home planet."

"But as it turns out..."

He glanced at the telescope aimed straight at a certain house and raised an eyebrow.