Even though Ian really did sound miserable about it,
and genuinely heartfelt,
Lois still did not really believe what he was saying.
More than that, she did not think Clark should believe it either. Superman's body had to have better poison resistance than an ordinary human like her.
So what happened to his brain?
"And you just believed him?" Lois looked at Clark, who had lowered his head and focused on eating, clearly trying not to get dragged into this. Clark hurriedly set down his spoon and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"There are a lot of things in this world we can't explain... our family itself isn't exactly scientific, so Ian getting to know a goddess only he can see isn't impossible." Clark did not answer directly. Instead, he took the gentler route.
He truly believed there had to be at least some truth mixed into whatever Ian was saying.
"I'm not questioning how bizarre this world can be... being with you has already broadened my horizons plenty. But even so, what Ian is saying is still way too outrageous."
Lois let out a heavy sigh.
"There was a little artistic embellishment, not much. You know how I am, Mom, I'm a writer. I can't help myself." Ian blinked and quickly tried to patch things up.
He had originally planned to keep his head down and focus on eating.
But then he remembered that he now had two big shots he needed to keep happy.
So...
"Praise Lady Death, thank you for granting me dinner... and thanks to my godfather as well."
Ian had never been anyone's underling before, so he was basically copying the habits of Christians.
Spread the love around.
No favoritism.
The Death Knight remained as aloof as ever and gave no response, probably because it could not respond. But Lady Death, whom he reconnected with vaguely through prayer, was a different story.
"Shut up!"
She actually sent back an angry curse this time.
See? Feelings really did grow through repeated contact. Not only was it an instant reply, it was practically voice chat. Ian felt his whole head buzzing.
Even so,
he still had something to say.
"Oh, wait, no, Mom. It's not artistic embellishment anymore. She's absolutely obsessed with me."
Ian spoke with such certainty that both Clark and Lois looked completely thrown.
Neither of them had any idea what had just happened.
"Let's just say what you're saying is true."
Lois rolled her eyes and decided not to keep pulling on that thread. She picked up a spoon, scooped a huge serving of boiled green vegetables, and dropped it heavily into Ian's bowl.
"But even if some super goddess is madly in love with you, you're still eating every last bit of these green vegetables tonight."
Motherly love may be silent.
But it was not easy to swallow.
Listening to his mom, Ian stared at the pile of extra greens in his bowl and immediately looked miserable.
Broccoli.
It might be one of the signature foods of elite households.
But to a committed carnivore like him, it was the enemy of a lifetime.
Chomp.
Ian had only just taken one bite when, in the very next moment, he saw his previously silent father rise to his feet in obvious irritation.
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang from the front door.
"I got it, I got it."
Ian hurriedly spat out the broccoli in his mouth and rushed toward the door.
But someone moved even faster.
Before Ian could react, Clark blurred past him and stepped in front of him.
"I'll handle it."
Clark pushed Ian behind him.
Then, gritting his teeth, he opened the door.
"Bruce, we had an agreement. You don't get to interfere with my normal life."
It was obvious he already knew who was there, and the irritation in his voice was unmistakable.
That name instantly sent a shock through Ian's heart. He quickly leaned sideways past Clark's broad arm and looked toward the door.
A distinguished middle-aged man in a custom-tailored suit stood there.
He was powerfully built,
but not in an exaggerated way.
Everything about him carried the presence of old money and old legacy.
Bruce Wayne.
The master of Gotham.
The polished daytime mask the Dark Knight wore to conceal his true identity.
"I'm not here to see you, Clark." Bruce interrupted him calmly, his gaze passing over Superman's broad shoulder and landing on Ian, who was peeking from behind him.
"I'm here for the author of a manuscript received today by a publishing house under Wayne Enterprises." He gave Ian a slight nod. "I assume you are Mr. Ian Kent?"
Batman, pretending to be a respectable gentleman, sounded warm and perfectly polite.
"You actually submitted your novel?!" Clark had clearly not expected Ian to seriously try publishing his work. He froze for a second, then immediately turned to stare at his youngest son.
His expression was filled with baffled disbelief.
"The world deserves to witness my astonishing talent." Ian nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He somehow managed to make it sound like he was doing humanity a favor, nobly enlightening the masses of America.
"..."
Clark's expression became even more complicated.
Compared to Clark's speechlessness, Bruce was much more supportive of Ian's confidence.
"It really is a very talented piece of work."
He delivered the assessment without changing expression.
That only made Clark feel even more certain Bruce was up to something.
"Are you serious?"
Clark frowned, his intimidating eyes fixed sternly on Bruce outside the door.
Bruce did not flinch. He met Clark's gaze with total calm.
"Please don't question my judgment as an investor." Bruce's voice remained steady, as if he were stating something completely ordinary. "I'm simply doing what any businessman should do."
"Young Mr. Kent's book is going to make me an enormous profit in a very specific market."
The certainty in his tone left Clark staring at him in stunned confusion.
He genuinely did not know whether to keep suspecting Bruce of ulterior motives, or start questioning the mental state of modern society instead.
The throbbing at his temples felt like Kryptonian high blood pressure, something he had not experienced in a long time.
"Congratulations, Clark. You're about to have a son worth millions."
Bruce's smile became more and more obvious, and at least his tone sounded sincerely congratulatory.
Clark said nothing.
Ian, meanwhile, was already lighting up.
"Really? Mr. Wayne, the man from TV whose word is law?"
Ian shoved his head out from under Clark's arm. He had never been stingy with flattery.
"I guarantee it."
Bruce smiled and nodded.
"What a rude father... come in, come in!"
Ian instantly transformed into the most enthusiastic host imaginable. He shoved aside Clark, who was still trapped between speechlessness and suspicion, and welcomed Bruce into the house.
Really, now that Bruce had shown up in person, there had to be a reason for it.
Acting resistant would not change anything.
And besides, Ian had no interest in insulting money.
"Want to try some broccoli my mom made? It's very healthy white-people food!"
Ian led Bruce into the dining room and generously offered up his plate of broccoli to the Batman masquerading as a human being.
"No, thank you." Bruce glanced at the wilted green vegetables on the plate, along with the suspicious mush on top, and the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
His instincts told him that eating this would probably give him a serious illness.
"Who is it? Hm?"
Lois came out of the kitchen, saw Bruce sitting down, and her expression shifted slightly.
Still, she said nothing. She only looked up at Clark, who came in right behind them.
Clark gave his wife the slightest shake of the head.
"My son may actually have a kind of talent I can't appreciate, but I still don't believe a book deal alone would be important enough for someone as busy as you to personally come all the way here."
Clark sat down across from Bruce.
"You're right."
Without the slightest hurry, Bruce pulled a delicate device from the inner pocket of his coat.
"But what if we add this? Wouldn't I have every right to investigate then?"
He aimed it at the living room television and pressed a button. The screen lit up automatically, playing that evening's news broadcast.
"A witness captured this dramatic moment on their phone," the news anchor's voice rang out from the speakers. "Supergirl once again saved a crashing Boeing airliner just in time."
"This marks the three hundred sixty-fourth plane incident this year, and the three hundred sixtieth involving Boeing. As a citizen, I feel compelled to ask: what happened with the other four?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question.
Then the footage shifted to a blurry cell phone video. Kara stood heroically in front of the plane being interviewed, while behind her, a figure with pantyhose over his head was charging survivors money for photo ops.
"According to highly reliable information, a new superhero has appeared. Not long after the plane incident, he was also seen alongside Supergirl at the scene of another accident."
"We can reasonably infer that this man is a rookie hero, learning under Supergirl's guidance. Enthusiastic internet users have already given him a very fitting nickname."
The anchor was delivering the report in the most serious tone possible.
But outside the television,
the moment Ian heard what the public was calling him,
his face froze.
"What the hell?! Pantyhose Man?!"
Faced with what might very well become his origin story as an Independent NPC,
he was genuinely seeing red.
At that moment, Ian really did want the whole world to know pain.
But then he realized that if he did that, his title might evolve from Pantyhose Man into something even worse, like Pantyhose Freak or Doctor Pantyhose.
So he calmed down.
"Actually, it was nude stockings, so they should be calling me Nude-Stocking Man. Although Stocking Superman doesn't sound bad either. Good, solid branding."
Ian suddenly corrected the anchor in a calm, even voice.
"????"
Batman rarely lost composure.
Except in situations where composure was simply impossible.
(End of Chapter)
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