I'll Stop You!

Toward evening, Clark returned home, his mind heavy with worry.

"The dealer gets 12.5 points."

"This month's feed bill went over budget again."

Martha and Jonathan were calculating the recent expenses, but from their tone, things did not seem optimistic.

As she worked the calculator, Martha said, "Plus the 8.2 mortgage payment, and then... the harvester repair costs."

After tallying all the household expenses, Martha looked helplessly at Jonathan.

"This month is even worse than last month."

Meanwhile, Eric was flipping through the newspaper. Without looking up, he said, "The total is fifty-four thousand five hundred and one dollars and thirty-eight cents."

After calculating the bills for his parents, Eric looked up and asked Jonathan, "Is it that bad?"

"Worse than we imagined. Looks like we'll have to take out a loan."

Jonathan was making coffee as he explained it to Eric.

"Hey, Dad, Mom, Eric."

After listening at the door for a while, Clark pulled himself together and greeted them.

"Hey, Clark."

Jonathan casually set the coffee on the table and greeted his eldest son.

"Dad, are we taking out a loan?"

Clark set down his backpack and asked worriedly.

"Looks that way."

"But the interest on a loan will make us..." Clark did not think it was a good idea.

"Maybe I can help."

He felt responsible for solving his parents' troubles. "I could skip high school, go straight into professional sports, become a spokesperson, and make a fortune."

Before Clark could finish, he saw the strange looks his parents and Eric were giving him and immediately stopped.

"Okay, I was just trying to cheer you up."

Clark looked a little dejected.

"Clark, your father and I would love to see your picture on a cereal box, but we'd rather you finish school first."

Martha felt that her eldest son's idea was dangerous.

"The same goes for Eric. You two have already helped a great deal. The work you did on the farm last quarter was equivalent to what seven or eight adults could do."

As Martha spoke, she glanced at Eric. While praising them, she also warned both boys never to entertain the idea of dropping out.

As dinner was nearing its end, Clark gave Eric a strange look and asked:

"Eric, did you hear something happened to the football team?"

"What happened?"

Eric looked up and deliberately played dumb.

The news of Dan Brown's murder had already spread throughout the school. Naturally, Eric knew what Clark wanted to ask.

"Coach Watt's team?"

Martha was stirring the fruit salad. When she heard Clark mention the football team, she became interested as well.

"Jonathan used to be one of Coach Watt's students too. I remember you were a running back, right, Jonathan?"

"Mm-hmm. Number 32, running back. But those aren't particularly fond memories for me."

Jonathan clearly did not want to talk about his days on the football team. He took a sip of warmed milk and asked Clark, "So, what happened to Coach Watt's football team?"

"One of the team members, a guy named Dan Brown, was unfortunately murdered yesterday."

Clark looked at Eric, as if trying to read something from his younger brother's face.

But to his disappointment, Eric kept his head down and worked on his dinner, seeming completely uninterested in what he was saying.

"Oh, that's such sad news."

Martha set down her fruit salad in surprise. "Did the police find any leads? Have they caught the killer?"

"Not yet. But I heard Dan Brown's whole body had burn marks from extreme heat. Electrocution, or perhaps he was burned by some kind of high-temperature heat source? I heard the specific details from Chloe."

Clark relayed the news he had heard from his best friend.

The heavy topic cast a pall over the Kent family's dinner. After Martha expressed her condolences for Dan Brown, she quickly changed the subject to the farm's problems.

After dinner, Eric returned to his room.

Knock, knock, knock!

Before he could even sit down, someone knocked on his door.

"Eric, it's me."

Clark's voice came from outside.

"You rarely come into my room, Clark."

Eric opened the door and let Clark in.

"When was the last time? Let me think. You accidentally damaged some school sports equipment, couldn't afford to pay for it, and didn't want our parents to find out, so you came to me for help."

Eric pulled a chair over from his desk and sat down, facing Clark. "Did you accidentally break even more expensive equipment in the sports storage room this time?"

"I'm not borrowing money. It's about Dan Brown."

Clark's expression was grave as he stared directly at Eric. "Did Dan Brown's death have anything to do with you?"

"Why would you ask that?"

Eric's brow twitched.

"You had a conflict with Dan Brown at school before, and you've never gotten along with the football team."

"You suspect me just because of that? Clark, that hardly sounds convincing."

"And..."

Clark's expression shifted slightly. He hesitated for a few seconds. "Was it because Whitney and the others chose me as the Scarecrow, and you—"

"Clark."

Eric stopped him. "You seem to think I'm the kind of person who loves taking revenge behind the scenes, but sorry, most of the time I can't be bothered to do anything. I'd rather wait for them to destroy themselves."

"Destroy themselves?"

Clark shook his head. "I don't think Dan Brown's death was suicide."

"Okay, now I seriously doubt the impression you have of me."

Eric sighed and deliberately put on a disappointed expression. "Clark, it seems that in your eyes, I'm the kind of person who could destroy someone's body at any moment."

"..."

Faced with his younger brother's accusation, Clark frowned. "Actually, Eric, you're the one who's always hiding things."

"Hiding things?"

"Yes. You never explain where all that money of yours comes from. You never tell me why you go to Metropolis late at night. And you won't tell me why you sometimes smell like blood!"

Clark's voice was agitated, though he still restrained his anger. "Gangs, robberies, shootings... I've always wondered what you've been doing in Metropolis, whether those words might have anything to do with you. I won't tell Dad and Mom, just like I didn't tell them earlier that you're hiding a huge sum of money—money that could instantly solve the family's debt crisis if you took it out. I'll stay silent, but that doesn't mean I won't think about it."

"You've never treated me like your older brother, Eric!"

"You're incredibly gifted, and I'm painfully dull, but—I know how to do the right thing! And I can't be sure that you won't do the wrong thing."

Clark's voice was filled with anger and accusation.

"We really do need to talk more, Clark."

Eric had not expected Clark to have such deep prejudices against him.

But he could not be bothered to explain. He simply said, "But you have something more important to do. Tomorrow is the homecoming dance, one of the football team's most important gatherings. If I were the killer, I'd definitely find a way to wipe them all out in one go."

"I'll stop you!"

Clark's tone grew even more resolute.

It seemed he had already decided that Eric was the killer behind it all.

"Mm-hmm. I'm looking forward to it."

Thanks to "Reader 1455147117727412224" for the tip. You spent money again—thank you so much. Thanks, everyone, for your votes and bookmarks.

Working on Sunday. So annoying!