My Son Is a Writer?

"Clark, I thought you'd been hanging around the football club lately and didn't have much time for extra social activities."

Eric said to Clark as he came in.

"Sorry, I've been doing extra training lately. Coach Watt said we need to prepare for next Monday's game, so..."

Clark explained to Eric somewhat awkwardly.

"I understand. Sometimes you have to make choices."

Eric replied, looking at the papers in Clark's hand. "You're not here to persuade me to join the football team, are you?"

"No."

Clark sat down and handed the papers to Eric.

"These are forms for the school blood donation drive."

"A blood donation drive?"

Eric frowned. "You know, the two of us are different from everyone else."

"I know."

A helpless expression appeared on Clark's face. "Lana is organizing the blood donation drive. She wanted to give you this form, but she couldn't find you after school, so she asked me to pass it along, even though I explained to her that you weren't suitable for donating."

"Oh."

Eric took the form and nodded. "Lana? Isn't she afraid of blood? When she had blood drawn for the first time in seventh grade, her legs went weak and she fainted on the spot. She's organizing a blood donation drive now?"

Seeing Clark's surprised expression, Eric explained with a curl of his lips, "Don't worry. I'm not interested in Lana's private life. You were the one who told me about it back then, weren't you?"

Before Clark could speak, Eric continued, "Let me guess how you turned Lana down. 'It's not very convenient, but I can help out in other ways, like finding other people to participate or handing out cookies.'"

"You seem to know everything, Eric."

Clark shrugged, taking the "blood donation form" back from Eric. "And you always manage to hit me right where it counts."

"No, it's not that I understand you. It's that I understand 'you when you're involved with Lana.' After all, anyone can see that you have ulterior motives where Lana is concerned."

Faced with Eric's teasing, Clark looked a little uncomfortable. "I just want to help her, as a good friend."

"Then you need to be careful. Once you cross the line, you can't use friendship as a cover."

Though he had never dated anyone, Eric still spoke to his "bargain-bin big brother" in the tone of someone with experience.

After hearing Eric's words, which might have been teasing or encouragement, Clark nodded thoughtfully and stood up to leave.

But after hesitating for a moment, he stopped, a conflicted expression appearing on his face.

"You seem strange today, Clark."

"No, it's just..."

Clark sat back down and said to Eric, "When I saw you coming in from outside earlier, you were carrying something."

"So?"

Eric's expression did not change.

"And I caught a faint smell of blood on you."

Clark became slightly hesitant and uneasy. "I don't know if you went out and did those bad things again, but Eric, you can't keep doing this. I can't keep covering for you, either. If Mom and Dad find out, I don't know what will happen. I don't want to lie."

"No one can tell the truth all the time, Clark, just as you wouldn't tell Lana the real reason why you can't donate blood."

Eric's expression was utterly calm. "This is the price we pay for our abilities."

"I know I can never persuade you."

Clark stood up, looking somewhat disappointed. "It's getting late. I think I should head back first."

"Clark!"

Eric called out to his big brother as he was about to leave. "Sometimes, you can't trust your own eyes, because eyes can deceive you. Watch the people around you!"

"..."

Clark froze for a moment, unable to understand what Eric meant.

Eyes can deceive me?

Watch the people around me?

What did that mean?

Those words kept circling in his mind, and despite usually sleeping well, Clark did not fall asleep until very late.

The next afternoon.

Kent Farm.

"I told you, Jonathan, don't use the upstairs toilet. It's clogged, and I'll have to spend a lot of effort clearing it."

Martha sat at the dining table calculating income and expenses as she called out to her husband.

"Sorry, I didn't notice."

Jonathan explained to his wife somewhat awkwardly, "I'll fix it."

"You don't have a plumber's talent, Jonathan."

Martha looked up. "At most, you have a talent for electrical work and repairing farm machinery."

"Can I take that as a compliment?"

Jonathan walked into the bathroom with his tools and looked back at his wife.

"Whew..."

Martha was in no mood to joke with her husband.

Looking at the serious overspending figures on the bills, she let out a heavy sigh.

"Looks like applying for a bank loan needs to be put on the agenda."

Just as she was worrying about how to avoid being crushed by high interest after taking out a loan, several unexpected visitors arrived at the farm.

Several middle-aged men in suits came to Kent Farm accompanied by Nell.

"You're looking for Eric?"

"Yes, but since you are Eric Kent's guardians, it's no problem for us to discuss the publishing contract with you."

The middle-aged man who introduced himself as being from Metropolis University Press explained to Jonathan and Martha with a smile.

"Wait."

Jonathan asked in confusion, "You mean you've taken an interest in Eric's submission—my son's submission—and want to discuss publishing a book with him?"

"Actually, it was Ms. Nell who recommended Mr. Eric's manuscript to us. It is filled with bizarre imagination and has an incredible immersive quality. We believe it has extremely high commercial value. Since Mr. Eric does not have a literary agent, we could only come visit in person."

The middle-aged man from the publishing house answered patiently.

After hearing him, Martha and Jonathan turned questioning looks toward Nell and received an affirming look in return.

"Can we take a look at Eric's manuscript?"

Martha still found it hard to believe as she asked the man.

She had never imagined that her younger son would publish a book. Although she often saw Eric scribbling and drawing in his free time, she had assumed it was merely a hobby.

Feeling dazed, Martha took the manuscript from him and began skimming through it.

Just like before, she could not make heads or tails of it. Although it gave her a creeping sensation, it was not because she had been affected by the content of the words. It felt more like a meaningless physiological reaction.

No matter how she looked at it, she could not see how it was a work with any "commercial value."

"We'll have to wait until Eric comes back before discussing the publishing contract with him. After all, it's his work."

Though his heart was filled with doubt and shock, Jonathan calmly stated his position.

Creak!

The front door was pushed open, and Eric happened to walk in at that moment.

Everyone immediately turned to look at him.

Thanks to "Reader 1455147117727412224" and "Timid Contrarian Serperior" for the donations.

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