What could he say?
Time had been limited.
Ian had only drafted the opening of that book last night. Originally, he had planned to submit it to the publishing company owned by billionaire Oliver Queen, also known as Green Arrow.
You did not put all your eggs in one basket.
The same went for great work.
Ian had always been very strategic about publishing his masterpieces. Unfortunately, no one could have predicted that his Superman father would stab his underage son in the back with the ultimate betrayal.
"I just hope the boss can appreciate my talent." Ian naturally hoped that the Batman in front of him, currently in human form, had sharp enough taste to see the extraordinary future buried inside an ordinary beginning.
Bruce, of course, had no idea what Ian was thinking.
In truth, he was no longer in the mood to observe anything around him. The manuscript in his hand felt less like paper and more like Cthulhu-level contamination.
"So? Mr. Wayne, man of such refined judgment, are you still insisting on publishing my son's book?" Seeing Bruce's stiff expression, Clark felt secretly delighted.
It had been a long time since he had managed to make this man suffer a setback.
Bruce slowly lifted his head, the muscles in his face twitching slightly. He took a deep breath, then suddenly forced out a smile through gritted teeth.
"Of course."
He said it one word at a time.
Bruce, too, was the sort who would rather lose the whole bun than give up a shred of pride. Killing the enemy by a thousand cuts while taking fifteen hundred himself was apparently a trade he was fully willing to make.
Neither side was going to come out as the winner.
But then again,
did that not also mean Ian was winning twice over?
Ian felt like he had completely hit the jackpot.
"Mr. Wayne, the second book isn't finished yet. Once it is, I'll send the rest to you." He hurried to patch things up a little for the flatness of his current plot.
Who did not love double royalties?
"That's enough, enough. These manuscripts are already more than enough!" Bruce's temples were throbbing. He was genuinely afraid of seeing some new plot development that his heart might not survive.
"Not enough. Ian, when you finish it, send it to him. No, actually, give it directly to me. I'll personally escort your manuscript to him."
Superman folded his arms and curled his lips into a victorious smile.
"Now, get out."
He watched Bruce rise to his feet through clenched teeth. As the wealthy titan walked toward the front door, gripping the manuscript, he kept glancing back every few steps as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, nothing came out.
"Take care, Mr. Wayne!"
Ian politely escorted his guest to the front door.
Bruce returned the smile, but it was very stiff.
Maintaining basic courtesy, he said goodbye to Ian and to the smiling Superman, then walked toward the luxury sedan parked down the street. Once inside, the knuckles gripping the manuscript stood out clearly.
"Master Bruce, your complexion doesn't look very good. Did you have another disagreement with your old friend?" The elegant elderly man in the driver's seat asked with a hint of teasing.
Bruce looked at the manuscript in his hand and said nothing for a moment.
"I don't have friends."
He answered in a low voice.
The old man behind the wheel simply smiled and shook his head.
"Then did your theory get confirmed? The one about that boy also being a Kryptonian survivor?" The elderly driver started the car and casually voiced his own curiosity.
"Based on Clark's old records, he started awakening his abilities at around that age too. I can't ignore the possibility that this boy, whose birth certificate I helped arrange back then, may also be a Kryptonian survivor."
"Of course, there's also the possibility that the boy is just another sign that Superman isn't as perfect as people think. And if that's the case, that would be very interesting."
Bruce's face carried a thoughtful expression.
"Either way, I need a more detailed understanding of Ian Kent as a person. So the first step is to have a very thorough talk with his psychologist."
Bruce still felt that familiar unease lingering in the back of his mind.
His brow furrowed.
Alfred raised a brow at that, and the sedan silently slipped into the night streets of Metropolis. Compared to Gotham, there really were far fewer opportunities for "work" after dark here.
Even the butler behind the wheel felt a little out of place.
...
Inside the Kent house,
Clark was in a very good mood after seeing Batman take a hit, and Ian was feeling great too knowing he was about to get rich.
Only Lois had fallen asleep in the kitchen after getting drunk.
Clark gently carried Lois to the couch.
That also woke her up.
"Kiss me!"
She was definitely drunk.
And suddenly in the mood.
"Uh..."
Clark looked a little overwhelmed.
Ian immediately prepared to head upstairs and give his parents some privacy.
But just then, the sound of the front door unlocking came from downstairs. It was Jordan, who often pretended he had been out on a date, coming home.
"I'm back!"
Jordan's voice was loud.
There was even a trace of gloominess in it.
And his return
instantly ruined Lois's mood.
Their drunk mother was displeased.
And when a woman was unhappy, things could get scary.
"Jordan, we need to talk. You, me, and your father." Lois straightened her messy hair. Even in her drunken state, the seriousness on her face was impossible to hide.
"Talk about what?"
Jordan looked confused.
"Obviously about the family discipline issue involving you using my bank account to subscribe to unhealthy videos." Lois crossed her arms, her voice full of interrogation.
"????"
Jordan was genuinely stunned.
He always bought discs.
What subscription?
While the wronged second brother stood there miserable and baffled, Ian had already slipped silently upstairs. Once back in his room, he still kept his ears perked to listen to the commotion below.
His physical condition gave him a heavily downgraded, ultra-budget version of super-hearing.
There was intense arguing downstairs.
And then a mix of parental lecture voices.
Ian really envied the coordinated teamwork of his parents' love.
And when he heard the rapid footsteps coming up the stairs, Ian decided he should immediately step out and apologize to the second brother taking the fall for him.
Better to confess now than be found out later. The key was admitting fault fast enough that no brotherly grudge could form. Ian knew exactly how to survive reasonably in the world of American TV drama.
Of course, to prevent Jordan from using the classic brotherly betrayal move of turning around and reporting him downstairs, Ian had already decided he would claim the whole thing was a prank by one of his friends.
Imaginary friends were useful everywhere.
"Uh..."
Ian had only just started to speak when
"That bastard!" Jordan's face was twisted with rage. At first Ian thought his brother might have figured out the truth, but apparently this Kryptonian descendant's super-brain was operating on a whole different level. "It was definitely Dad! He definitely subscribed to those unhealthy videos behind Mom's back, and when he got caught, he dumped the blame on me!"
He complained with righteous fury.
Ian froze on the spot.
"Oh! My God! So that's what happened! You might actually be right, Jordan. Your instincts are always solid!"
Ian truly admired this "truth" Jordan had managed to construct in his head.
Of course.
His second brother really was the true superhero of the Kent family!
"Exactly. My instincts are rarely wrong. This has to be what happened. He's a spineless man. He won't even admit the things he did himself!"
Now that he had support, Jordan grew even more outraged.
Ian nodded furiously like a human bobblehead.
As the saying went, let Superman suffer a little,
and all the sons would be happy.
Surely their noble father would not mind.
"Damn that frame job!" The more Jordan thought about it, the angrier he got. He already had emotional issues to begin with, so when Ian saw him storm toward his bedroom, he grew a little worried.
"You're not about to go fight Dad, are you?"
Ian did not think his brother's odds looked very good.
"Of course not."
Jordan turned back and looked at Ian in confusion. "If I'm already taking the blame, then I'm not taking it for nothing. I'm going to inspect exactly how disgusting the expensive videos Dad paid for really are."
What an impressively righteous way to put it.
"..."
Ian stared in stunned silence as his brother shut the bedroom door.
"So this is the advanced path of adolescence? Mating season?"
He could not help sighing in amazement.
Just as he was about to turn around and go back to his own room, planning to wash up quickly and wait to enter the dream world,
click.
The door opened again.
"Hm?"
Ian looked in surprise as Jordan stepped out once more.
"Uh... I just need to wash something I forgot to clean after using it last night... I mean my underwear." Jordan gave an awkward laugh, and sure enough, he was holding a pile of underwear in his hands.
Still,
Ian's sharp eyes could clearly see there was something else hidden in there. Jordan's cover-up was painfully obvious and his acting was terrible.
But Ian was a deeply thoughtful little brother with incredibly high emotional intelligence.
"Jordan, remember what you told me the other day? A doctor shouldn't try to treat himself."
Ian delivered it as tactfully as possible while watching his brother stiffen for a second before stepping into the bathroom.
The bathroom door closed.
Inside came the familiar sound of washing.
"Dad must see him doing this every day with x-ray vision..."
Ian really, really wanted to know something.
Once his second brother found out their father was actually the unstoppable Superman, would he still be able to carry on so boldly and so persistently with this extremely localized form of exercise at night?
Still full of curiosity, Ian returned to his room.
"The Boys, launch!"
There was still some time left.
So Ian decided to start drawing comics.
With a dramatic flourish of his pen,
he threw himself into another wave of passionate creation.
And as always, good times passed quickly. When the clock reached that dividing line, the moment Ian's neck tilted to the side, his soul had already drifted far away.
Dream world.
The Marvel Universe.
The snow was still falling in endless sheets.
Ian had been "respawned" in a random location again. This time, he did not immediately start searching for landmarks to get his bearings, because the instant he entered this world, something enormous in the sky had seized all of his attention.
In the dim heavens, dark clouds churned like boiling ink, and a vague outline was shifting deep inside them.
This time,
because that shape had already broken through the clouds and was slowly descending toward Earth,
"My heavenly father..."
Ian finally saw clearly what was falling toward the planet.
A gigantic head, as massive as a small world, emerged from the storm clouds. Its metallic skin looked etched with mysterious patterns.
It was Galactus.
The supreme cosmic god of the Marvel Universe.
But there was no life in it.
Its ruined body was collapsing toward Earth.
"Holy hell! The invincible Devourer is about to squash my hair!"
In this world, Ian did not need to worry about getting crushed to death at all. So what he really cared about was whether he would get a chance to touch the corpse of a cosmic god.
Divine blood.
What kind of class would that unlock?
(End of Chapter)
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