Solomon smiled faintly at Clark's barrage of questions.
"My Kryptonian name doesn't matter. Here on Earth, you can call me Solomon, or just Solomon."
Solomon turned around and motioned for Clark to follow him back. As they walked, he spoke in a voice full of nostalgia:
"As for Krypton... it was a cold but extraordinarily glorious place. We had crystal cities built on frozen plains, and the strictest, most perfect genetic caste system. As for your parents..."
Solomon paused, his tone turning somewhat hesitant.
"I know a little, I suppose."
At those words, Clark stopped abruptly and grabbed Solomon's arm, his blue eyes blazing with unprecedented excitement and longing:
"Who were my parents? What were their names?"
Solomon shook his head in feigned regret:
"I don't know their exact names. But I do know that shortly before Krypton's destruction, a brief rebellion broke out, instigated by radicals. During the chaos, a spacecraft broke through the blockade and left Krypton. If I'm not mistaken, that must have been your ship."
The more he said, the more mistakes he could make. Solomon wasn't actually a Kryptonian; all his knowledge of Krypton's details came from memories of movies from his previous life.
To avoid exposing himself, he could only offer half-true clues and keep every detail he could gloss over vague.
The light in Clark's eyes dimmed a little as immense disappointment and sorrow welled up in his heart.
He had thought he would finally learn his birth parents' names and what they looked like.
Clinging to one last faint hope, he looked at Solomon and asked the heavy question that had always lingered in his heart:
"Solomon, my parents... could they still be alive? Could they have left before the planet's destruction, just like you?"
Solomon fell silent for a moment, gazing