"David, Clark, we're going to the market outside of town today to sell fruit. You'll need to help load the truck later."
Martha's voice called from downstairs, a rare treat on their precious holiday.
Responding to his mother, David made his way downstairs, the wooden steps creaking under his feet. As he descended, his mind idly drifted to yesterday's events.
Gregg, whose image at school had changed drastically, seemed to have undergone a genetic mutation as well.
"His heartbeat is much slower than normal."
Still, there were quite a few people with mutated genes in this town. As long as he didn't provoke Gregg, things should be fine.
He sat down at the dining table.
Jonathan was eating breakfast, pouring milk over his cereal.
David, not a fan of cereal, was eating warm bread, spreading blueberry jam on it with a butter knife.
"Clark!" Seeing that her elder son hadn't come down yet, Martha called out to the second floor again.
Bang!
A dull thud echoed from upstairs, accompanied by a sound like splintering wood.
"When did Clark start having a morning temper?"
Jonathan asked, momentarily stunned.
Judging by the sound, Clark must have broken something.
"Are you alright, Clark?"
Knowing her husband was just joking, Martha called up to the second floor.
"I'm fine, Mother. I'll be down in a moment, it's just..."
Upstairs, Clark's voice sounded slightly panicked.
A moment later, he sat at the dining table, his expression as if he'd seen a ghost. Like a child who had misbehaved, he awkwardly confessed, "My bed needs repairing."
"Your bed broke? What happened?"
A hint of confusion flickered in Jonathan's eyes.
Adolescence was a time of rapid physical development. Had his son's strength increased again, becoming uncontrollable?
"I just woke up and found myself floating in mid-air. After being startled, I fell and broke the bed leg."
Clark frowned, a hint of resistance in his expression.
How could a person fly? He had another ability that set him apart from ordinary people, and it made him feel uneasy. It was another reminder that he was an alien, that he didn't belong in this family.
What else might happen to him that he couldn't control?
"Floating?"
From super strength, to invulnerability, to super speed... Even though they were accustomed to such things, the couple couldn't help but be astonished.
Since ancient times, flight had always been humanity's dream.
Martha, ever observant and sensitive, noticed his mood. She took her son's hand and said gently, "Clark, no matter how many peculiar talents you have, you are still our son."
"Since it's a gift you were born with, you can master it, son." Jonathan's tone held a hint of seriousness as he tried to instill confidence in his son. "Don't be afraid. You're not the only one who can fly in this world; countless birds also enjoy the freedom of the sky."
The young Superman seemed to be awakening his ability to fly, David remarked with no surprise.
"I thought it was something else."
"What?" Clark couldn't help but ask.
"Nothing. When I woke up, I heard some noises from the next room, like someone talking in their sleep, constantly muttering someone's name."
David swallowed the bread in his mouth, his casual tone causing Clark at the table to become extremely flustered.
Because before he woke up, he had been flying in his dream, all the way to Lana's house, to her bed, floating above her and admiring her beautiful sleeping posture.
He swore he hadn't done anything, and then he was woken up. Still, the dream was undeniably suggestive.
"I actually said it out loud?"
It must have been yesterday on the way home from school. He had, unusually, talked with Lana for a long time, trying to comfort her, and that's why he dreamt of her at night.
"Someone's name?"
Martha asked, puzzled. "Clark, did you have a nightmare?"
She remembered the last time Clark was almost beaten by Whitney.
"It's nothing, Mother.
It's getting late. Let's finish breakfast quickly so we can load the truck and head to the market."
Clark's face turned red. He coughed a couple of times, choked by the milk, and guiltily changed the subject.
"Otherwise, we won't get the good spots."
After finishing their meal, they went to the farm entrance. Clark and David carried boxes of packed fruit out of the warehouse.
The fruit, weighing dozens of pounds, felt as light as a feather in Clark's hands. He effortlessly loaded box after box onto the pickup truck.
But when he turned around, he saw that David had only just placed the second box onto the truck while he had already moved seven or eight. David was leisurely strolling as if he were out for a spring outing.
"Can you hurry up?" he couldn't help but say.
"Clark, your brother doesn't have your strength. Don't rush him," Martha chided gently.
"He doesn't have strength…"
Clark opened his mouth, remembering how he couldn't budge David's hand with both of his before, even though he hadn't used his full strength.
Over the years, he had almost single-handedly served as the farm's tractor, fence post driver, and plow, saving the farm a considerable amount of money.
Clark didn't mind. He was happy to help his aging parents, who had raised him, share the burden of labor.
But after discovering David's extraordinary strength, he felt extremely annoyed remembering how David had leisurely watched him work in the past.
Especially now, when David was still lazily slacking off.
The most infuriating thing was that he couldn't even complain to their parents.
[Frustration from Clark +4, +3…]
David remained unfazed by Clark's resentful gaze. After Clark had moved another seven or eight boxes, David finally carried the last box of fruit onto the truck.
He got into the pickup.
"It's a bit crowded. It'll be inconvenient for Father to drive. You sit in the back."
Clark, who was about to get in after finishing his work, was waved off by David.
The pickup truck had only one row of seats in the front, which was just enough for three people. Four would be a bit cramped.
"Why not you?"
Clark, who was stopped, widened his eyes.
"It wouldn't be good for an older brother to snatch a younger brother's seat, would it?"
David glanced at him, his tone filled with confusion.
"You…"
Seeing his self-entitled attitude, with no sign of being a younger brother, Clark gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and reluctantly turned to go to the back.
Jonathan and Martha looked at each other, puzzled. In the past, when this situation occasionally arose, Clark would always rush to the back, afraid David would fall out and get hurt.
What was going on today? Were the two brothers having a spat?
Vroom
He turned the key, and the engine started.
In the back of the truck, the future Superman, Clark, sat in the truck bed, holding a basket of apples with a hint of gloom.
They arrived at the market.
The Kent family found a spot near the center, set up their tent, and displayed boxes of sweet and tempting fresh fruit.
Clark used his thumb to press a nail forcefully into a wooden stake, hanging a sign that read "Kent Farm Fresh Fruit."
"Are you not afraid someone will see you using your abilities like that?"
Sitting at the stall, David looked up.
This area on the outskirts was a great place for a spring outing. A temporary market made up of tents had sprung up. On the green grass, there were stalls selling flowers, hot dogs, fruit… and people coming and going, making it very lively.
"I'm indeed not as good as you when it comes to hiding my abilities."
Clark, who had deliberately observed to ensure no one was watching before secretly using his powers, sat down next to David and looked at the stalls with him.
"After all these years, Mom, Dad, and I never noticed."
"Clark, I didn't expect to see you here."
Suddenly, a clear voice with a hint of laughter reached them.
The two looked up. David saw a bald head, shiny like a lightbulb in the sunlight.
"Luthor?"
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