Lionel: Sorry, I Thought You Finally Couldn't Resist Killing That Internal Revenue Service...

Standing on the balcony of the east wing guest room.

Locke leaned against the carved railing, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. The cool morning breeze brushed his face, carrying the salty dampness unique to the distant bay.

It had to be said that Luthor Manor truly occupied an exceptional location.

Perched atop a cliff overlooking Metropolis, it offered a panoramic view of the entire city's skyline, glittering like an array of precisely cut crystals in the golden morning light.

"Puff... puff..."

The faint sound of breathing made Locke instinctively lower his gaze toward the crib beside him.

Saraphiel was curled up in the soft swaddling clothes, sleeping soundly. His rosy little face rose and fell with each breath, his dark eyelashes like translucent wings in the morning sunlight.

With a quiet smile, Locke immersed himself in the peace that came after surviving disaster.

Until—

"Beep... beep... beep..."

The flip phone on the table suddenly began to vibrate, its monotonous ringtone especially piercing in the still morning light.

Hmm.

It seemed the phone Gray had prepared was exactly the same as the old one. Even the number had not changed.

Wait.

Seeing Saraphiel's eyelids twitch as though he was about to wake up, Locke hurried forward in alarm. Almost flustered, he snatched up the phone and quickly flipped it open.

The moment he answered, Jonathan's booming voice came through the receiver, accompanied by what sounded like the noisy clucking of hens in the background.

"Locke! Where'd you go? The farm's practically drowning in barred rock eggs!"

Locke could not help laughing. He immediately pictured Jonathan in the chicken coop, surrounded by eggs all over the ground, scrambling around helplessly.

The weight of the past few days seemed to lighten somewhat in the face of that familiar everyday warmth.