"Clark?!"
Martha froze for a moment as the door opened, then hurried forward to wrap her arms around him.
"It's wonderful to see you, Clark," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "You're finally back."
"I'm sorry, Mom, for everything," Clark said, his voice tight with emotion. "I shouldn't have run away without saying goodbye, and I shouldn't have made you worry all this time. I always mess things up. I act on my own whims. But I never intended to hurt you or Dad."
Holding her son close, Martha smiled through her tears and caressed his face. "We never blamed you, Clark. Your father and I… we only wondered if we were too strict, too demanding. Perhaps if we had been more tolerant, you wouldn't have felt the need to leave."
"No, it's my fault. I'm the one who should have reflected," Clark murmured.
"Forget reflection for now. What matters is that you're back," Martha said warmly.
Jonathan stepped forward, patting Clark on the back with a proud smile. "Clark, you haven't disappointed me. Choosing your own path, even if it's thorny, doesn't make it a failure. What matters is that you're reclaiming your life."
Clark nodded, then glanced at Adrian, who stood silently nearby. Hesitantly, he added, "Actually… I'm still figuring things out. As Kal, I could do whatever I wanted, live without limits. But now I understand something: even when things get impossible, I can face them with my family. Adrian taught me that."
"Don't make me your spiritual guide, Clark," Adrian said dryly. "Right now, your real concern should be clearing your name as a bank robber and notorious criminal."
"Notorious criminal?" Martha's eyes widened. "Clark, how many banks did you rob?"
"I… I don't know exactly. Probably five," Clark admitted, looking embarrassed.
"And don't forget the box of priceless paintings," Adrian added casually.
"Oh my goodness, Clark!" Martha gasped, realizing the scope of her son's actions in Metropolis.
Clark gave a wry smile. "I'll notify the police and return the money. The problem is, I can't keep running forever. I'll do my best to repay everything."
Jonathan placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "You shouldn't blame yourself too harshly. That's not who you truly are."
"I know, but I hurt people, and I need to make amends," Clark said, reflecting on his time wearing the red kryptonite ring.
Jonathan sighed. "Even if it was unintentional, there's responsibility here. Society was affected, and we can't ignore that. We must repay the money—even if it meant selling the farm."
"Selling the farm? I don't think that's necessary," Adrian interjected. "We can cover it. My manuscript fees are substantial, and Clark could inherit the farm one day. He'd be a fourth-generation heir, and this way we won't have to sell it."
Clark looked puzzled. "Fourth-generation heir?"
"Yes, if you inherit the farm, Clark, you'll be the fourth generation. Dad's the third." Adrian shrugged, matter-of-factly.
Clark considered it. "Maybe… I need to think about inheriting the farm. I've never been interested in being a sports star or celebrity, but being a reporter… I like it. I'm currently Chloe's special correspondent at The Torch, and maybe one day I'll become a real reporter. At least I enjoy it for now."
Adrian raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by Clark's early ambition. A reporter? Could this lead him to meet his future sister-in-law, Lois Lane? Pinching his chin, Adrian fell into thoughtful consideration about his brother's path and how it might intersect with his own.
Nearby, Martha and Jonathan exchanged smiles, listening to Clark outline his plans. With Christmas just two days away, a warm, joyful energy filled the small town. Shops glittered with colorful lights, candles adorned evergreen trees, and festive ribbons crowned the displays. The streets echoed with the cheerful tune of Jingle Bells, a song Clark now heard as part of the American holiday season.
Adrian, wearing a gray trench coat and a blue scarf, walked calmly along the town street. Behind him, Ms. Aikins followed, carrying bags and huffing with exertion.
"I don't understand why I agreed to this," she said, catching up. "As a teacher, my responsibility is education, guidance, and occasionally showing care for students. Being your personal pack mule wasn't part of the contract."
"Is that so? You've already become my exclusive woman," Adrian replied casually.
"Exclusive woman?" she asked, stepping closer, her tone tinged with playful curiosity. "If I'm your exclusive woman, why hasn't our… partnership progressed further?"
Adrian smirked. "Misunderstand me. 'Exclusive' just means you're my specialized assistant for research and physical labor."
Ms. Aikins suppressed a blush and leaned against his arm, brushing her body lightly against his. "Perhaps you're right. But I've seen the way Clark looks at me. I know I have some… effect on him. Don't you find it stimulating if we…"
Adrian raised a hand. "Don't misunderstand."
She smiled, licking her lips. "The stimulation I mean… the slight burn from your Heat Vision on my skin. I admit, it's addictive."
"Then control the hormones you release," Adrian said, steering the conversation. "How's your cooperation with Hamilton going for research?"
Ms. Aikins exhaled a pink mist, the kind that could captivate adults and render them obedient—a research subject of great value to Adrian. "That eccentric miner? I don't know what abilities he has. He prefers talking to rocks and materials rather than humans."
"I see," Adrian said, feigning seriousness. "If I devised a device to distribute this influence across America, would you support me?"
"Of course," Ms. Aikins replied eagerly, gripping his arm tighter. "I'm your exclusive woman. If I don't support you, who will? Your parents? Clark? No, they're nothing like you."
Adrian smirked, satisfied, and continued walking through the festive streets, the town alive with Christmas cheer.
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