[Third Person's PoV]
Clark could feel the weight of everyone's eyes bearing down on him. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Itsuki, who had been seated in front of him, slowly turned her entire body in her seat, staring at him with wide eyes full of disbelief and confusion.
Beside him, Komi simply gawked, her usually composed expression utterly shattered. Her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her skull, practically bulging from her face as she tried to process what she had just heard.
Then, almost as if rehearsed, the entire class erupted in a unified, thunderous shout:
"WHAT?!!"
Clark let out a low growl, visibly annoyed by the outburst. His eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits, the irises seeming to flash with irritation. He had slicked his hair back slightly, though a few rebellious strands fell back into place as if to mock his efforts.
He pushed himself back from his desk, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. The sudden movement drew even more attention, though nobody dared to say a word.
Every pair of eyes followed him as he stalked down the narrow row of desks, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room. The atmosphere grew more suffocating with every step. Without breaking stride, Clark marched directly toward Lala, who blinked in confusion.
"Eh? Did I say something—?" she started to ask, but before she could finish, Clark had grabbed her by the shoulders and unceremoniously guided her out the door.
Then, with one swift motion—SLAM!
The classroom door shut with a resounding bang, echoing like a gunshot. The sheer volume of it made several students flinch in their seats. Even the homeroom teacher jerked back slightly, stunned.
Clark stood in front of the door, his posture tense and aggressive. His voice came out in a harsh snarl.
"Don't try that shit with me. Redo it," he snapped.
He turned on his heel and strode back to his desk, his body hunched slightly forward, hands shoved deep into his pockets as if to restrain himself from lashing out. His eyes scanned the classroom, glaring at each person who dared to meet his gaze, daring them to speak.
When he reached his seat, he dropped into it with deliberate force, leaned back, and crossed one leg over the other, his expression radiating icy hostility. The others quickly averted their eyes, terrified of provoking him any further.
A second later, the door creaked open again.
Lala stepped in with a radiant smile, completely unbothered by the earlier commotion.
"Hello, everyone!" she chirped, giving an enthusiastic wave. "My name is Lala Satalin Deviluke!"
The class blinked in stunned silence. An eerie sense of déjà vu settled over them like a fog.
"And I'm Clark's fiancée!" she added brightly, beaming.
"Would you STOP saying that!!" Clark exploded, his glasses halfway up his head. His frustration was written all over his face.
"I'm not your fiancé!"
"But we are!" Lala insisted, puffing her cheeks and shaking her tiny fist. "Granny Seiko said we were!"
Clark bolted upright, eyes wide in disbelief. "THAT OLD WITCH DID WHAT?!" he roared, his glasses bouncing off his forehead before settling down to his face and eyes.
Lala pressed her index fingers together, swaying innocently from side to side. A deep blush crept across her cheeks. Her eyes were shut tight, flustered and embarrassed, so she completely missed the death glare Clark was sending her way and the way his glasses dropped to his face.
"Granny Seiko said it'd be okay if I started telling people we were engaged," she said with a giggle. "Hehehe."
Clark exhaled slowly, face flat with exasperation. He raised one hand in the air, voice flat and emotionless.
"May I please be excused? I need to make a personal house call."
"Uh… Yeah… Sure…" the teacher muttered awkwardly, still rattled by everything that had just unfolded.
As Clark walked out of the room, Lala tilted her head in confusion, wondering who that was.
"Wait… where'd he go?" she asked, blinking in surprise as she didn't see Clark anywhere.
The room fell silent once again. No one dared speak. They were still trying to make sense of the whirlwind that had just blown through the classroom.
Then, from the hallway, Clark's raised voice cut through the air like a blade:
"Have you lost your mind?! Have you grown more demented with age or something?! What kind of nonsense have you been feeding her?!"
His fury was palpable even through the walls. He paced the hallway like a caged animal, phone pressed to his ear, seething.
"First of all, rude," came Seiko's calm but mildly annoyed voice through the phone. "Second, there's no need to shout. I may be old, but my hearing works just fine."
"What's rude is you telling that girl to come into my class and declare to everyone that we're engaged!" Clark hissed through gritted teeth.
"Oh my, she actually said that?" Seiko said, clearly amused. "In front of the whole class? That's hilarious."
"I'm glad you find it amusing but I think we're missing the point here!" Clark snapped, practically vibrating with rage. "Why is she saying you told her that she was my fiancée?!"
Seiko sighed, as though this were all just a minor misunderstanding.
"Let me explain things properly so you understand what's happening," she began in a composed tone.
"Oh, please, enlighten me," Clark replied sarcastically, rubbing his temples.
"You have to remember, Lala isn't from around here. She comes from a completely different world. Her culture, mannerisms, and values are not like ours. She means well, but she interprets things differently. I never explicitly told her to say you were her fiancé out loud to everyone, but I did say it would be best if she started referring to herself that way." Seiko explained.
Clark's brows furrowed deeply. As much as he hated to admit it, Seiko's first point was fair. Lala wasn't just some girl with a quirky personality—she was from an entirely different civilization, a whole different world with customs and expectations he could barely begin to understand.
Still, that didn't mean he was going to let the rest slide. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
"That still doesn't explain," he said sharply, "why would you tell her to say I'm her fiancé?"
Seiko's voice remained calm, almost too calm, as if she'd anticipated every argument he'd make. "It's for her own protection, Clark. You know that. If she claims she's already engaged, it might discourage a lot of her more aggressive suitors. It puts up a wall, a boundary."
Clark let out a bitter laugh. "First of all, does it have to be me? She could just lie and say she has a fiancé. Make up a name. Create a fake identity. It doesn't have to be me, and you know it."
His voice lowered, filled with a sharper edge. "And second—do you seriously think that kind of announcement would stop the type of maniacs chasing her? You know what's at stake. She's royalty. For what's in store if someone marries her—power, status, a claim to the throne—they'd stop at nothing to eliminate the competition. Saying she has a fiancé won't stop them… If anything, it just paints a bigger target on my back."
Seiko's tone didn't falter. "Yes. It does have to be you."
Clark blinked. "Why?"
"You're her guardian, aren't you?" she said gently. "When someone inevitably comes looking to take her by force, who do you think is going to step in and stop them? Who's going to be the one standing in front of her when they try to drag her away?"
Clark's silence answered for him.
"Exactly," Seiko continued. "To any outsider, that makes you look like the fiancé anyway. This way, we control the narrative instead of letting others define it. You're already the protector. You might as well be the shield she can point to."
Clark mumbled something incoherent, but Seiko wasn't finished.
"There's another reason. If aliens or other threats believe that Lala's 'fiancé' is Superman—a being of immense power and impossible strength—they'll think twice before trying anything reckless. You're a deterrent. A very strong one. The kind that makes interstellar warlords hesitate.
More importantly, if there are those who still try to challenge you… you'll be able to stop them," Seiko said matter-of-factly. "Your strength, your power—Clark, I would never have done this if I didn't believe you were more than capable of protecting her. You're the only one I trust to handle something like this. So I'm not worried."
For a moment, Clark's jaw tightened. His expression hardened into something unreadable.
"Just… why are you going out of your way to help her so much?" he asked quietly.
Seiko didn't hesitate.
"For the same reason you put on that cape and fight crime every day: to protect the innocent."
She paused, her tone softening even more.
"That girl didn't choose to be the heir to her planet. She didn't ask for a life of being pursued, hunted, or used as a political pawn. And yet now she has to live her life constantly looking over her shoulder. She's just a kid, really. She doesn't deserve that kind of fear. She's innocent, Clark."
Clark's lips thinned, but he said nothing.
"And I don't just mean she's innocent in a 'naïve' way," Seiko added. "I'm talking about her soul. I'm sure with those senses of yours, you've noticed it too. Her aura is… pure. Genuinely pure. That kind of soul is rare. And it's worth protecting."
Clark didn't argue. He couldn't.
He had felt it, the moment Lala landed in front of him. Her aura was unlike anything he'd ever sensed before. It didn't feel threatening or deceitful—it smelled sweet, like bubblegum and cotton candy. It was weird, sure, but it was so distinct, so pleasant, especially when compared to the usual chaos and darkness he sensed in others.
That strange purity was probably the only reason he didn't immediately throw her out the window when she showed up unannounced in his shower. And why he even listened to her as she was in his room.
"…I still don't see why I have to be her fiancé," he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Seiko sighed softly. "Please, Clark… Would you just do me this one favor? It doesn't have to be real. It's a fake engagement. A formality to keep her safe."
Clark grimaced, his hand running down his face in frustration.
If people ever asked him what his one true weakness was, they'd assume the obvious answer—Kryptonite. But the truth was far less dramatic and far more personal.
His real weakness… was Seiko.
Because no matter how stubborn he was, no matter how righteously angry he got, he could never say no to her.
Clark ran a hand down his face in exasperation.
"Fine," he grumbled. "She can claim she's my fiancée all she wants. I'm not gonna stop her. But I'm not claiming her back, either. Got it?"
A soft laugh escaped Seiko on the other end. "Thank you, Clark… I'm sorry for dragging you into this and asking you to go along with my whims."
Clark scoffed. "Just remember—you owe me. Big time."
"I'm fine with that," Seiko said cheerfully. "How about I cook your favorite dinner if you actually come home for once and stay?"
Clark's cheeks reddened slightly. "Stop treating me like a kid," he muttered under his breath.
But Seiko just laughed—warm, loud, and genuine.
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