School Newspaper
Chloe's pen scratched the paper with unnecessary force.
"Four. At least four."
Clark raised his eyes from the computer, a slight arch in his eyebrow.
"Four?"
"Four girlfriends. Exactly that. Or suitors. Or obsessive followers. I've lost count."
She pointed the pen like it was a dagger.
"You've got more of a harem than a desert prince."
Clark propped his chin on his hand, his eyes glinting with restrained amusement.
"You seem so worried. Want me to draw an organizational chart to make your counting easier?"
"Idiot."
Chloe crossed her arms, the pen still clutched between her fingers.
"I'm not jealous. I'm just… observing the pattern."
Clark leaned slightly forward.
"What pattern?"
"You. Always attracting girls who are either dangerous, obsessed, or have explosive tendencies."
"Oh, so now it's a case study."
"Yes. Thesis title: 'Clark Kent and His Fascination with Unstable Girls.'"
Clark let out a light laugh, turning his eyes back to the screen.
'Even when she's annoyed, she's still cute.'
VRRRM.
The newspaper office door swung open before Chloe could fire off another quip.
Alicia.
The sound of her low heels clicked against the floor, echoing in the space. Her perfume filled the room seconds before her presence registered. She wore dark jeans and a light blouse, hair loose, smile too wide.
"Hi, Clark."
She crossed the space without hesitation and leaned toward him. The quick kiss on his cheek, nearly grazing his lips, happened before Chloe could react.
Clark remained neutral.
"Hi, Alicia."
Alicia glanced sideways and waved at Chloe with a sweet smile.
"Hi, Chloe."
Chloe didn't respond. She just raised an eyebrow slightly and crossed her legs with extra poise.
Alicia turned her gaze back to Clark, her hands clasping in front of her.
"Can I talk to you for a sec? It's serious."
Clark closed his laptop and stood calmly.
"Go ahead."
"I was wondering if I could help your mom at the farm."
Her smile was genuine. Her eyes shone with something beyond goodwill.
"I know she's pregnant, and she might need someone to help with household chores. I'm a good cook, I can handle animals, I can organize rooms, do laundry… anything."
Chloe blinked slowly, then leaned back in her chair.
'What exactly do you want with Martha?'
Clark glanced at Chloe out of the corner of his eye, then turned back to Alicia.
'This yandere wants to help my mom?'
The thought formed dryly, directly.
'If I were to send someone there, it'd be Tina. She might not be trustworthy with others, but she sees me as a brother. After I hypnotized her, she'd never do anything against my family.'
His eyes narrowed for a moment.
'But Alicia… even under control… she still worries me.'
He crossed his arms slowly.
'At least it reminded me it's been a while since I checked in there. I should visit my parents' house. Just to make sure everything's okay.'
Clark stepped forward.
"Thanks for offering, but it won't be necessary."
Alicia blinked.
"Oh. I just thought…"
Her voice faltered, as if she were holding her breath.
"She seemed like she might need it. And I… wanted to help."
Clark kept his expression serene, his tone neutral.
"She's got help already. And if she needs more, she'll say so herself."
Alicia took half a step back, her fingers gripping the hem of her blouse.
"Sorry. I just wanted to be useful."
Her voice was softer. Almost a whisper.
Chloe couldn't suppress a discreet smile as she twirled the pen between her fingers.
"Some people don't need to prove their worth all the time."
Clark noticed but didn't comment.
Alicia swallowed hard, forcing a smile.
"I didn't mean to push anything. Really."
She looked at him, her eyes moist but restrained.
"I hope this… doesn't mess anything up between us."
Clark shook his head slowly.
"It didn't."
Alicia exhaled carefully, as if each breath had to be measured.
"Okay… I'll get going."
She lightly touched his shoulder with her fingertips, hesitant.
"Thanks for the date yesterday."
Clark nodded.
"You're welcome."
Alicia turned, her steps soft toward the door, as if moving faster would make her seem less affected. But the air around her felt heavy.
Chloe waited until the door closed to sigh theatrically.
"Finally, a boundary."
Clark pulled his chair back and sat down.
"No need to overdo it."
She smiled without looking at him.
"I'm not overdoing it. I'm celebrating."
Her fingers resumed dancing over the keyboard.
"It's nice to see you still have standards. Even as the leader of an unstable, highly flammable harem."
Clark propped his chin on his hand, watching her type.
"You're not jealous, are you?"
"Not even a little."
She stopped typing. Smiled sideways.
"Maybe just… satisfied."
Clark turned back to the laptop screen, his eyes distant.
But the thought lingered.
'Alicia didn't get mad. But she was shaken.'
He could feel it. The way she pulled back, the way her smile wavered, like she'd offered her heart on a platter and received a glass of lukewarm water in return.
'At least she didn't make a scene.'
Still, her reaction kept circling in the back of his mind. A low, constant tension.
'She'll try again.'
'Yanderes always try again.'
Clark stared at the screen for a few seconds before typing anything.
Chloe watched him out of the corner of her eye.
And though she said nothing, her silence carried a clear note.
She was happy.
Happy to see that, among all the choices he made, there was still room to say "no."
And that, even with a harem around him, Clark Kent was still… Clark Kent.
---
The taxi stopped with a subtle jolt, kicking up dust from the dirt road. The sun barely crested the trees, and the morning light was soft, golden, cutting through the light fog like silent fingers carving a path.
Emily didn't move right away. Her eyes were fixed out the window, her mouth pressed into a tight line.
'Who are they?'
Three men stood in the pasture near the barn. One held tools, another checked the engine of a tractor, and the third spoke directly with Jonathan Kent.
'Who are these men near my son?'
Emily's fingers slowly tightened around the bag in her lap.
'They're with Jonathan. I knew that man wasn't trustworthy. He's circling… closing in… planning something.'
She inhaled sharply, her chest heaving. The taxi driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, his face impatient.
"You getting out?"
Emily snapped out of her trance, looking at him as if he were an insect. She opened her bag, pulled out a few bills, and handed them over with a curt motion.
"Go."
"Alright, alright."
She was already out of the car when he maneuvered to turn around.
The sound of tires on gravel faded quickly.
Emily adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, her eyes locked on the three men laughing at something Jonathan had said. One of them—the oldest—wiped his hands with a rag and pointed at the barn.
'They shouldn't be here.'
'Not near the baby.'
'Those strong arms, those easy smiles. They're not trustworthy. They don't care.'
Emily pressed her lips together, her feet already moving down the dirt path. Her short boots crushed small stones with each step. The breeze carried the scent of hay, machine oil, and something sweet from the kitchen.
The front door opened.
Martha appeared, wearing a flour-stained apron, her hair tied in a hasty bun.
"Emily! Good morning!"
Emily stopped at the foot of the steps, her gaze still fixed on the men across the way.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kent."
Martha followed her gaze, then turned back to Emily with kindness.
"Oh, those? They're the guys we hired last week. Workers from town. Ben Carter, John Halloway, and Mark Simmons. They're helping with the heavy stuff."
Emily didn't respond right away. Her expression softened by mere millimeters.
"I see."
"Come on, come in. We'll start with the bedding and then move to the kitchen, alright?"
Emily nodded, climbing the steps slowly. The wood creaked under her feet, but the sound was muffled by Martha's calm voice.
"If you want tea or something before we start, I've got cinnamon, honey, and some oatmeal cookies. No need to rush."
Emily entered.
The house's interior was warm, scented with spices and polished wood. There was a strange relief inside. A silence that wasn't a threat—it was protection.
But outside… outside, danger smiled with work gloves and local accents.
The kitchen was cozy, and Emily stayed near the door until Martha gestured to a chair.
"You can sit."
She obeyed, her eyes scanning the shelves filled with jars, bottles, and recipes pinned to the fridge with magnets.
Martha placed a mug in front of her.
"Chamomile tea. Calms and warms."
Emily watched her for a moment before touching the mug.
"Thank you."
Martha pulled up another chair. Her eyes sought connection, not authority.
"Is something bothering you?"
Emily twirled the mug between her fingers, her gaze fixed on the liquid's surface.
"The men."
Martha tilted her head, faintly surprised.
"Oh… the workers?"
"Yes. I just got… on edge. Because of the baby."
Martha's hand instinctively rested on her belly. She smiled, but with warmth.
"I understand. But Jon knows them from other jobs. They're trustworthy."
Emily forced a smile.
"Of course."
But inside, her mind churned.
'Trust. Empty words.'
'I'd never let strangers get that close to my baby.'
'Those three… with their easy laughs… they'll start touching things, seeing too much, asking too much.'
Martha stood, grabbing a basket of laundry from the hallway entrance.
"Let's start here. Then I'll show you the pantry and the cleaning supplies area."
Emily followed, her body light, but her mind in constant turmoil.
'I need to watch every corner.'
'Protect every space.'
'The house is full of weak points. And that man… Jonathan… he lets anyone in.'
'That's not care. It's negligence.'