The smile on Lex Luthor's face stiffened for a moment, the confident expression faltering just slightly before he recovered. Clark noticed the awkward pause and immediately clapped Lex on the shoulder, laughing in a friendly attempt to smooth things over. His tone carried the relaxed sincerity that people in Smallville were used to hearing from him.
"Lex, life doesn't have to be about conquering the world to mean something."
As Clark spoke, his eyes drifted across the exhibition hall. In the distance, he caught sight of a familiar figure from behind, the graceful posture instantly recognizable. Lana stood near another display case, her long hair resting gently against her back.
A soft smile appeared on Clark's face without him realizing it, and he instinctively took a step forward, planning to go greet her.
Before he could move any farther, another figure walked into view.
Whitney stood beside Lana.
Football practice had just ended earlier that evening. Whitney had heard Lana would be visiting the museum and had managed to get a ticket. Since arriving, he had been lingering near her side, clearly trying to mend the relationship with his former girlfriend.
Clark's smile slowly faded.
From a distance, the two of them seemed to be getting along again. They spoke occasionally, their conversation relaxed enough to make Clark's chest tighten.
"You still need a little ambition in life," Lex said casually as he patted Clark's shoulder again. His voice carried a teasing tone, though his eyes watched Clark carefully. "Don't you think so, Clark?"
He chuckled lightly, clearly trying to offer advice.
"Only warriors who dare to take the initiative can win a lady's heart."
Lex spoke with the confidence of someone who believed strategy applied to everything—even romance. If he could get closer to Clark by offering a bit of guidance, he wouldn't hesitate. After all, Clark had once saved his life.
That kind of favor was hard to forget.
"I'm going to get some air," Clark muttered.
Not far away, Lana stood beneath the museum lights wearing a pale pink dress. Around her neck hung a green crystal necklace that caught the light every time she moved, resting against her smooth collarbone.
Clark's mood sank even further as he watched.
David shook his head quietly beside him. In his opinion, Clark had nobody to blame but himself.
Instead of following Clark outside, David continued strolling through the museum halls on his own. There were still several Egyptian artifacts on display that hadn't caught his attention earlier. They lacked the flashy brilliance of golden armor or jeweled relics, but the ancient objects carried a strange charm born from centuries of history.
Their quiet presence felt dignified and mysterious.
…
"You actually thought about running away?"
In the dim grass of a nearby city park, a man's cruel voice cut through the night.
A heavy punch slammed into someone's face.
Jakes Faran stood over the fallen man with a vicious expression, his fist still clenched. The victim collapsed onto the ground, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.
"I can't find it," the man cried weakly. His voice trembled as he begged. "I really don't know where the company's confidential client files are. Please… just let me go."
"If you won't work for me," Faran replied coldly, "then you can look forward to spending a few years behind bars."
He roughly flipped the man over and pulled out a pair of handcuffs, his movements full of threatening intent.
Everyone had secrets.
Jakes Faran made a living off discovering them.
Officially, he was a police detective who operated somewhere between the law and the shadows. His real talent was uncovering the hidden weaknesses of others and using those secrets to control them.
Being a detective was merely his job.
What he truly loved were green banknotes.
As long as money was involved, there was almost nothing he wouldn't do.
…
Outside the museum, Clark stepped down the wide stone stairs and breathed deeply.
Fresh night air filled his lungs as he lifted his head to look at the towering skyline around him. Rows of steel structures and skyscrapers stretched into the distance beneath the glow of city lights.
"Compared to Smallville," Clark murmured to himself, "this place feels like another world."
But when he shifted his gaze back toward the streets below, the illusion cracked a little.
The road was nearly empty.
Night had already settled in, leaving the sidewalks quiet and strangely deserted.
Not far away, beneath a bus stop sign, a ragged homeless man lay asleep on a reclining bench. His clothes were torn and worn thin, and a small puppy curled beside him for warmth.
Clark watched the pair silently for a moment.
"Maybe it's not that different after all," he said quietly.
A hint of helplessness flickered in his eyes.
Just then, the distant sound of an approaching vehicle broke the silence.
Chi—
A public bus rolled toward the stop sign.
Clark barely paid attention at first. But as the bus drew closer, something strange happened inside the driver's seat.
The driver suddenly clutched his chest.
His face turned pale.
Before Clark could react, the man collapsed forward over the steering wheel.
The bus swerved violently.
Its tires screeched across the asphalt as it veered toward the bus stop.
The metal pole and the sleeping homeless man lay directly in its path.
"Not good!"
Clark's eyes widened.
Without thinking, his body moved.
In the blink of an eye he crossed dozens of meters, appearing directly between the oncoming bus and the stop sign.
He raised both hands instinctively, bracing himself to stop the vehicle and protect the man behind him.
Sometimes the body reacted faster than the mind.
Only when the bus was almost upon him did Clark realize something.
His expression changed instantly.
Under normal circumstances, a bus weighing more than ten tons would crash straight into him. The impact would likely crumple the entire front end of the vehicle.
The homeless man might survive.
But the driver would almost certainly die.
"No!"
Just before the collision happened, something extraordinary occurred.
An invisible force suddenly spread outward from Clark's body.
A strange and mysterious field enveloped the entire bus.
Bang!
The speeding vehicle slammed to an abrupt halt as if it had struck a solid wall of steel.
Yet the front of the bus showed only a shallow dent where Clark's palms had touched it.
The homeless man remained unharmed.
Even the driver inside the bus avoided serious injury.
Clark slowly lowered his hands.
"What…"
He stared at his palms in confusion.
How had he done that?
There was no scientific explanation for what had just happened.
"How about it?" a voice called out nearby. "Have you changed your mind yet?"
Across the park lawn, muffled sounds of punches and kicks continued.
Faran wiped sweat from his forehead, breathing heavily as he stared down at the man he had been beating. His eyes gleamed like a night predator toying with prey.
"Well?" he demanded again.
"I…" the man began weakly.
Bang!
Before he could finish speaking, a loud crash echoed from the street.
Faran turned his head in surprise.
The scene unfolding in the distance froze him in place.
Moments later, the groan of the injured bus driver snapped Clark back to reality.
Clark hurried forward, pulled open the bus door, and climbed inside. He carefully lifted the unconscious driver into his arms.
Then he disappeared.
In a flash of motion too fast for normal eyes to follow, Clark sprinted away toward Metropolitan Hospital.
By the time Faran reached the street, Clark was already gone.
He stared at the dent in the front of the bus, then looked around at the empty road.
The driver had vanished.
The streets remained silent.
Faran's heartbeat quickened.
He knew very well that he hadn't imagined what he'd seen.
Everyone had secrets.
And tonight, he might have just discovered a very big one.
…
"So how was it, kids?" Martha asked the next morning with a warm smile. "Did the big city make you want to stay there forever?"
At the breakfast table, Jonathan and Martha were finishing their meal.
Clark slowly walked down the stairs, still looking distracted.
"The museum was great," he said hesitantly. "It's just…"
"What is it?" Jonathan asked, lowering his spoon.
Clark sat down at the table, uncertain how to explain.
Before he could speak, David calmly handed a newspaper across the table.
"There was a small incident," he said quietly.
The headline read:
"Late-Night Bus Loses Control, Nearly Crushes Homeless Man."
"I stopped it," Clark admitted.
As he recalled the strange event from the night before, confusion still filled his mind.
"Are you okay, Clark?" Martha asked quickly, her motherly concern immediate.
Clark scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Clark," Martha said gently, "you saved someone's life. I'm proud of you."
Jonathan finished reading the article, though his brow remained furrowed.
"But did anyone see you?" he asked seriously.
This wasn't Smallville.
This was a major city.
"It was late," Clark explained. "The streets were empty, and everyone else was inside the museum. The crash didn't attract attention."
"The newspaper didn't mention any witnesses," Martha added after glancing at the article. "So it should be alright."
Jonathan nodded slowly.
"That's good."
He pushed his chair back slightly.
"Finish eating and get to school, boys," he said with a smile. "The bus will be here soon."
David listened quietly as Clark described the strange event again.
From what Clark said, it was obvious what had happened.
The biological force field had activated.
That was the foundation of Superman's future ability to fly, so its appearance now wasn't surprising.
Clark, however, had been caught off guard by the new power. The sudden change left him distracted throughout the entire morning at school.
By noon, classes finally ended.
Clark pulled David aside as they left campus.
"Let's go to the woods outside town," Clark said. "I need to test something."
He wanted to understand his new ability before he accidentally lost control again.
The two brothers walked down a narrow alley on their way out of town.
Just as they reached the midpoint, a figure stepped out from the shadows.
"Clark Kent. David Kent. Correct?"
A middle-aged man slowly approached, flashing a police badge.
His smile carried a mocking edge, like a hyena that had just found a carcass.
He blocked the alley exit casually.
"Metropolis Police Detective Jacques LaLanne," the man said. "There's a traffic accident case, and I need the two of you to assist with the investigation."
Clark's heart tightened instantly.
A traffic accident.
Was it about last night?
But how had this man found him?
Seeing the detective's smug expression, the look of someone convinced he had caught another person's weakness, David slowly narrowed his eyes.
....
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