Trials, Yet Still a Happy Birthday

The corridor was deafeningly chaotic.

Crying, angry shouting, and the wail of ambulances blended into one.

Locke and the others hurried through the crowd, surrounded by parents who had survived the disaster.

Some clutched their drenched children and sobbed uncontrollably. Some grabbed the school bus driver by the collar and roared at him. Several teachers sat collapsed on the benches, their faces deathly pale.

But Locke's gaze was fixed solely on Mrs. Green, who was trembling in the corner.

Just as he was about to step forward, a rubber-gloved hand gently rested on his shoulder.

"Mr. Locke?"

A curvaceous nurse in a pristine white uniform stood behind him with a smile, her eyes crescent-shaped behind gold-rimmed glasses.

"Clark is in Room 203. Dio is keeping him company."

Locke froze for a moment, then recognized the nurse who had once cared for Dio. "Thank you, Miss Dessel."

"Oh my~"

The nurse covered her mouth and chuckled, the name tag on her chest glinting beneath the lights. "What a surprise that you still remember me."

But Martha had no time for thanks. Her eyes red-rimmed, she jogged toward the ward, with Jonathan hurrying after her.

"Let's see the children first."

Locke nodded to her and led Logan swiftly down the corridor.

Dessel stepped aside and watched the four of them pass by in single file.

Her smile gradually deepened, cold light reflecting off her lenses.

An interesting man.

Her slender fingers lightly stroked the clipboard as Dessel recalled what she had noticed that day.

Lionel Luthor's private jet had been parked on the hospital roof, yet this farmer had actually refused his invitation.

He could turn down a million-dollar annual salary. No wonder he could resist my suggestion.

Looks like I need more practice.

Beep, beep, beep—!

The red light at the nurse's station began flashing. Dessel came back to herself and flipped through the clipboard in her hands.

She remembered that one child's father owned a pharmacy in town.

Standing outside Room 203.

The four had just reached for the door when they heard Dio's furious growl and Clark's stubborn defense from inside.

Locke's expression instantly turned strange—

He heard Dio saying,

"A black will?"

"Survive until the end?"

"Become emperor?!"

What the hell was all that supposed to mean?!

But Martha and Jonathan, standing nearby, relaxed and exchanged smiles.

"The children still have so much energy. That's wonderful."

Martha wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

Jonathan nodded. "At least it means Clark and Dio are both all right."

Behind them, Logan jabbed hard at Locke's back. His eyes wide, he silently mouthed in a roar:

"How do you teach your kids?!"

Taking a deep breath, Locke gently pushed the door open.

Dio stood by the bed, still holding his proud, arrogant posture.

"What do you want to become?"

Locke walked over and rubbed Dio's golden head, saying helplessly, "Dio, tell Dad. Was that your birthday wish?"

"Dad."

The fury on Dio's face froze the moment he saw Locke.

All his grand declarations from moments ago turned into an embarrassed smile.

Clark, meanwhile, shrank his neck like a child caught doing something wrong and buried half his face in the blanket.

"You two, you just barely escaped death, and yet—"

Before Locke could finish, Martha hurried forward. She shoved him aside and pulled Clark tightly into her arms.

"You children really scared me to death."

Her voice trembled, and her tears soaked into Clark's hospital gown.

At that moment.

Even the boy who had stayed strong and kept smiling ever since the accident could no longer hold it together.

Tears instantly welled in his blue eyes. Clark clung tightly to Martha's waist and buried his face in her warm embrace.

"Mom."

"While I was underwater... I really thought I'd never see you again."

The boy's voice held a vulnerability it had never carried before, like a frightened little animal.

Gently patting Clark's back, Jonathan stood beside them and lightly ruffled his adopted son's curls with his rough, large hand.

Seeing this.

Locke's chest tightened.

Only then did he realize that he sometimes forgot Clark was only nine years old.

Not every child could mature as early as Dio.

And after something like this, even Dio—

The blond boy stood stubbornly where he was, his eyes red and his lips pressed into a taut line.

Too many emotions churned in those red eyes that were usually so haughty.

Anger, lingering fear, grievance.

"Dio."

Locke sighed softly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to keep holding it in like this."

"Dad understands."

Those words seemed to open some kind of floodgate.

Dio suddenly threw himself into Locke's arms.

"Clark is an idiot!!"

he cursed.

Holding his trembling son tightly, Locke could feel scorching tears soaking through his clothes.

Click.

Logan gently shut the door and leaned against the wall outside the ward.

He sniffed and did not disturb the family.

Ninety years, was it?

Home...

The wolf turned his face away and silently closed his eyes.

Rain poured down outside the window.

Raindrops drummed against the roof of Kent Farm, but they could not drown out the warm laughter inside.

On the dining table sat a birthday cake with nine slowly burning candles.

Clark and Dio had just made their wishes, and everyone was busy singing them a birthday song.

Until—

The kitchen door burst open with a bang.

"Birthday boys!"

Logan strode out carrying a small cake, maple syrup gleaming amber in the candlelight.

"Authentic Canadian maple syrup cake. Who wants some—"

"Me, me, me!"

Clark immediately raised his hand, his blue eyes shining like stars.

Logan glanced at the aloof Dio, then at the excited Clark, and suddenly felt this kid was practically an angel descended to earth.

"Little hero!"

"Eat! Have a big piece!" He boldly cut off a fist-sized slice and even lifted a spoonful to Clark's mouth himself. "Uncle Logan will feed you!"

Dio rolled his eyes, finding the drifter utterly unpleasant to look at.

Locke could not help laughing. He quickly walked to the corner and abruptly pulled off the dust cover.

"Look! A custom astronomical telescope from the Royal Academy of Sciences!"

The metal stand gleamed coldly beneath the lights, while the gilded word "KENT" on the telescope tube stood out especially clearly.

But—

"Wow, thank you, Uncle/Dad."

The two children thanked him politely.

Locke raised an eyebrow. "...?"

That was not the reaction he had expected.

"Locke, you really don't get it."

"Kids, look at this!"

Jonathan suddenly opened the small room on the other side.

"Ta-da—!"

Two miniature tractors stood there in plain sight!

Their bodies were painted with cool custom designs, and bows were even tied to their steering wheels.

Clang.

Clark's fork fell to the floor. As though drawn by a magnet, he pounced toward the tractors, his little hands running all over their metal shells.

Though Dio was not as entranced as Clark, his gaze was fixed on the little tractors too.

"..."

Watching the scene in silence, Locke's mind was full of thoughts, yet he could not say a word.

Jonathan came over and slapped a large hand onto his shoulder.

"Brother."

"Thank you." He lowered his voice and pointed at the tractors. "You taught me!"

"Something precious bought with money can't compare to something made with your own hands!"

The corner of Locke's mouth twitched.

This feeling was far too familiar!

The baseball glove he had saved up for when he was fourteen had ultimately been defeated by a handmade rawhide knot from Jonathan!

"Jonathan," Locke said darkly, "how dare you—"

"What are you two doing?"

Martha cut in, stuffing a piece of cake into each her husband's and brother's mouths.

"You're nearly eighty years old combined. Can't you act a little more mature?!"

Chewing on cake, Locke nodded helplessly and looked toward the night outside.

Specks of starlight spilled across the windowpane and trailed downward, turning the laughter inside the house into hazy halos of light.

Trials would eventually pass.

Today's wounds might leave their marks, but at this moment—

They were merely special gifts life had given them today.

The family was still happy.

That was enough.

For Locke.