"Don't worry, Mr. Jack."
In the manor's office, Luthor leaned forward, hands clasped, like a prehistoric crocodile finally baring its fangs, and sneered, "A beautiful new life awaits you."
"I... my name is Nixson."
"That was in the past. I'll give you a new identity, surname Jack. What should your first name be?
Baker? Benson? How about Johnson?"
His tone was as if he were deciding what to eat for lunch, casually weaving the narrative of the man's future. Nixson felt as if he had fallen into an abyss, a chill running down his spine.
"What profession? Killer, drug dealer, gang enforcer, or terrorist?"
All of them were identities that would inevitably lead to murder charges and wanted posters.
"Listen, I can return the money to you."
He swallowed, quickly placing the bag on the table.
Family, work, friends... he couldn't accept that everything he had built in the first half of his life was about to disappear.
"Was my money like this at first?"
Luthor raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Nixson hurriedly, with trembling hands and feet, took out the money from the bag, placing the stacks back in their original positions. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, looking at Luthor as if he were a devil who could decide his life or death with a single word, a nervous and fearful smile on his face.
"Mr. Luthor..."
"You think you can blackmail me?
You think I'm some spoiled rich kid who needs my old man's protection?"
Luthor rose slowly and powerfully, his expression like a ferocious demon about to devour someone, his voice suddenly rising, making Nixson tremble all over, almost scaring him to his knees.
"You're not the first to think that way, and the person I made disappear has never reappeared!
Do you have any idea who runs this country!"
"Lu... Mr. Luthor, what do you want me to do?"
As if facing a colossal wave that could crash down and smash him into a pulp at any moment, Nixson pleaded in terror, his voice trembling.
"You're considered a top reporter in Metropolis, and your sources on the ground are even better than mine. I want you to discreetly investigate some things for me!"
"You... please tell me."
"There's a family in this town that runs a farm, their surname is Kent."
Luthor turned and pulled back the curtains. Light flooded in, but it couldn't penetrate his dark gaze.
"I want their information, every single detail!"
"I will."
Nixson nodded repeatedly, agreeing: "I will definitely handle it for you."
"And also..."
"What else, Mr. Luthor?" Seeing Luthor turn and glance at him, he quickly lowered his head, like a loyal servant.
"This is a magical town."
Luthor's lips curved, and he looked out at the manor again, speaking softly and slowly.
"Although I've only been here a few days, I've already seen a corner of its mysterious veil, making me yearn for it."
First, there was Clark, who was hit by a car traveling at 200 kilometers per hour, knocked off a bridge, but emerged unharmed and even saved his life.
Then, a high school girl who somehow managed to transform into his likeness to rob a bank.
And then all the strange occurrences he had just read about online, circulating in this town.
"I want to know everything about its mysteries!"
"You will have your wish, Mr. Luthor."
After sending away the reporter he had just taken on as a subordinate, Luthor watched him drive away, slowly taking a sip of wine, and chuckled softly.
"Thank you, Nixson.
Fortunately, it was someone as foolish and timid as you who discovered one of my loopholes beforehand, rather than someone more troublesome.
And it just so happens that I needed someone when you showed up."
...
"What are your names, gentlemen?"
In the nursing home, Cassandra, her eyes clouded with cataracts and her hair white, asked kindly.
"My name is Clark." "David Kent."
Clark spoke his name first, and David followed suit.
"The Kent brothers?"
"Come sit over here."
The gentle, elegant old woman gestured to the bed not far in front of them.
"Ma'am, I heard you can predict the future?"
As they both sat down, Clark glanced at his brother, confident that after encountering several superpowered individuals consecutively, his brother was thinking the same thing he was. He turned back, hesitated for a moment, but couldn't help but ask, "Is it true?"
Who wouldn't be curious about the future?
Especially when they knew this prediction of the future might not be fake.
"The first time it happened, I thought it was a curse, a hallucination. As soon as I touched someone, uncontrollable fragments of events would appear before my eyes," Cassandra said with a smile. "Later, I realized it was a gift from heaven to compensate me."
Clark was surprised. The old lady in front of him didn't seem to mind hiding her abilities at all, casually telling it to someone she had just met. He started to doubt if she was a real superpowered individual. Only a liar would be eager to show off and talk a lot. But then, what happened with Pete earlier proved something magical.
"Clark, stop thinking impolite thoughts," David said, unlike Clark. He was sure the woman could mostly predict the future and spoke slowly. "When you reach Ms. Cassandra's age, you'll also be indifferent to some things."
Looking at her again carefully, the old woman indeed gave off a feeling of calm serenity that comes with age. Clark suddenly understood and quickly apologized.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Cassandra."
"It's alright," the old woman said with a smile, completely unbothered. "When did you first predict the future?"
Clark had always had a guess that all the strange things in town seemed to happen after the meteor shower. He had a strong premonition that these superpowered individuals might be related to the meteors, but he had no evidence to confirm it.
"One morning, I woke up as usual, and then the meteors fell, hitting the wheat field in front of my house. The doctor determined that the flash burned out my optic nerves. In a single moment, my entire life changed."
"I'm sorry." Looking at the old woman calmly recounting her past, Clark's expression became unnatural, his voice muffled. The meteor shower had come with him; he had brought disaster, changing the lives of many.
"It's not your fault, child," Cassandra said with a smile, thinking he was apologizing for bringing up her blindness. "Kindness is a good thing. But some things in the world are not within your control, my brother," David said meaningfully, seeing the guilt in Clark's eyes. He was sent to Earth by force, not by his own choice, so he shouldn't always shoulder the burden himself.
Comforted by his brother, Clark felt a little better. At the same time, he was somewhat puzzled why his brother would uncharacteristically comfort him over such a minor emotional issue.
"Since then, I can no longer see the present before my eyes, but I can glimpse the future of others." As she spoke, her voice was gentle, and she slowly extended her hand. "Would you like to try, child?"
Looking at the old woman before him, Clark hesitated. Would using that ability consume his energy or something? He was here to volunteer and read with the elderly, not to have her answer his future for him.
Meanwhile, outside the room, a tall, beautiful black-haired figure moved silently, like a stealthy hunter in the jungle, quietly approaching the door. She pressed her back against the wall, listening to what was happening inside.
"Occasionally, I catch glimpses of light, only in the future of others," David mused. "Is that why you often help people predict their future and offer guidance, Ms. Cassandra?" It was clear that the old woman was inexplicably enthusiastic about helping people foresee the future.
"You're very smart, child," Cassandra nodded approvingly in his direction. "The world is so beautiful, full of colors, clouds as white as cotton, beautiful green fields, and a clear blue sky. Light is always better than darkness, especially for someone who once had sight," she said, her voice filled with nostalgia.
Hearing this, Clark no longer hesitated and extended his hand to the kind, blind old woman before him. "I'll trouble you, ma'am."
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