American comics farmer: start by adopting the villain savior.

Chapter 102 Clark: Brother, where have you been making your fortune lately?

Chapter 102 Clark: Brother, where have you been making your fortune lately?
Before you know it, it's Friday again.

The Smallwell High School newspaper editorial office was filled with a faint, distinctive smell of ink and old paper.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting warm, interlacing strips of light and shadow on the long table piled high with manuscripts, photographs, and mugs.

Clark sat awkwardly in a creaky swivel chair, his oversized football uniform making him seem somewhat out of place in the slightly cramped space.

It's obvious they came here to kill time right after training.

Sitting opposite me were Chloe Sullivan, the school newspaper editor, and Peter Ross, a photojournalist.

His two closest friends.

“So,” Chloe said without looking up, circling a typographical error with her pen, “you want me to create another section for Stuart? To help him like Lana did?”

“Yes.” Clark nodded.

"."

Chloe took a deep breath, seemingly trying to suppress her anger.

"Clark"

"Do you think there is a possibility?"

"I wrote about this in four consecutive issues of the Torch newspaper!"

"what?!"

"That's good."

Clark swallowed hard, his awkward fingers unconsciously gripping the armrest of the chair.

"Alright, Chloe, that kid's been busy training lately," Pete said, trying to smooth things over. "By the way, Clark, what did you say you ate a few days ago?"

“Atlantic Bluefin Tuna.” Clark’s eyes lit up, a look of lingering enjoyment on his face. “That was really delicious.”

"???"

"What are you babbling about, Clark?"

"Ahem, a tuna, we have a whole one at home!"

"One?!"

"Didn't your birthdays just happen a short while ago?"

"Is Uncle Locke's birthday coming up? Or are we celebrating the harvest festival soon?" Chloe took off her glasses, looking at Clark incredulously, her body involuntarily leaning forward slightly. "Or has your family struck it rich again?"

"Why do you say 'again'?" Clark said irritably. "It's all thanks to Dior."

"Dio?" Pete became interested.

“Hmm, Dio seems to have made some money working part-time at the cake shop recently.” Clark scratched the back of his head, his muscles taut unnaturally beneath his football uniform. “He got a tuna from somewhere a few days ago, I think it was some kind of online shopping? He said he bought it to ‘improve his meals’.”

"but."

He lowered his voice, "Actually, what I find even scarier is that recently, after asking me for help, he would give me tips."

"I've already received five hundred dollars from him!"

"Five hundred dollars!" Pete exclaimed. "That's enough to buy so many chocolate brownies!"

"Is that the point?" Chloe's face darkened, and she said helplessly, "How could someone working at a cake shop afford a tuna, and yet he tipped Clark five hundred dollars in just a few days?"

"Pete, do you have no idea what five hundred dollars means?!"

"Don't tell."

"I think I do have a vague recollection of it."

Before the two could speak, Pete stroked his mustache and suddenly said, "I saw Dio walk into the Cebrelo auto repair shop when I was leaving school before I went there."

“That Cebrelo even personally escorted him to the door, smiling like a chrysanthemum.”

"hiss--"

Upon hearing this, Chloe gasped, her pen leaving a long, dark mark on the manuscript paper.

"That former Marine who preys on rich people? Is Dio going to him to make money? Or just for cars?"

"Or are you talking about fixing your family's old pickup truck?"

Clark shook his head decisively: "Absolutely impossible. My dad and Uncle Locke would never send the car there."

"Then what was he going there for? And old Cebrelo's attitude?" Chloe murmured, her expression turning serious. "If Dio can go in and out of places like that and be treated like an honored guest... then it does seem..."

They are extremely wealthy.

The three looked at each other, speechless for a long time.

The only sound in the office was the ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock.

"Maybe."

Clark hesitated, "Did Dior really hold two jobs like that?"

"Come on, Clark," Chloe rolled her eyes without hesitation. "We're still high schoolers, not those investment banking elites on Wall Street who only need four hours of sleep a day. Time is limited. Cake shop, Cebrelo... it doesn't make sense."

"Besides..."

"Maybe Dior has discovered some way to make money?" Her eyes lit up, with a hint of naivety or perhaps greed in her speculation, and her voice was filled with excitement: "I'm not getting enough pocket money lately, and my cousin Louise isn't willing to help me out."

"Why don't we ask? We can all make money together!"

"."

After she finished speaking, she was met with two eerie silences.

Chloe blushed.

Clark and Pete both gave him the look of utter disbelief.

"What's with those looks?" Chloe muttered, feeling a little uncomfortable under their gazes. "I was just suggesting a possibility! Maybe Dio actually..."

"Dior's words."

Clark pondered, the image of those always mocking red eyes appearing before his eyes.

“Unlikely.” Pete finished the sentence and shrugged helplessly.

"Just like the sun rising in the east, Dior might make us money, but it's unlikely to make us rich."

Chloe fell silent.

It was as if these few words suddenly pulled me into a long-forgotten memory.

In a daze, she felt as if she had returned to that evening when she was in the sixth grade of elementary school.

That boy with dazzling blond hair, who looked like an angel but exuded a devilish aura.

I just wanted to go up and say hello to him.
结果
His words, however, were like a knife chilled to the bone, both cold and sharp:
"You're Chloe Sullivan?"

"I've heard of you from Clark, but seeing you now, you're just like a penguin in a revolving door."

Was he praising me?
Chloe didn't know, but she could hear the explanation from Clark.

“He probably meant you were stupid,” the boy comforted her. “Chloe, don’t be sad. Dio was actually being very tactful.”

Um.
She hadn't cried because of Dior's words, but she cried because of Clark.

And since then...
The image of Dio Kent in her mind was firmly and completely fixed there—

"The most arrogant and mean-spirited jerk in the world"

Once that label was on, it was never removed.

"Ok."

She seemed to have lost all her earlier excitement.

He let out a long sigh, and unconsciously drew circles on the manuscript paper with his pen, completely obscuring the layout error as a blob of black ink.

“What you said makes a lot of sense.”

She had to admit that there was a hint of frustration and resentment in her voice.

But then she looked up again, as if she had remembered something, and a flicker of inquiry rekindled in her light blue eyes:

"So, Uncle Clark... didn't he react at all? Dio is so extravagant, didn't he notice anything at all?"

"Um"

"Uncle," Clark tried to recall Locke's reaction, "he... seemed more interested in how salmon was eaten?"

"To be honest, ever since we grew up, he has rarely asked about our private financial dealings. He tends to trust that we can handle them ourselves."

He paused, then gave an example:

"Like that Harley that Dior somehow got his hands on, our whole family knew about it, but only Dior thought he had hidden it perfectly, while we all pretended not to know."

"."

A brief silence fell over the office once again.

"Since that's how it is!" *Slap!*

Chloe slammed her red pen on the table with a sharp sound, startling the other two.

"Then why don't we just take action?"

"We'll take action?" Pete nearly dropped his camera. "You're not thinking of... torturing Dior, are you?"

"God, I don't want to get beaten up and end up in the hospital."

A chill ran down his spine; Pete still vividly remembered what happened three or four years ago.

What dangerous things are you thinking about?

Chloe glared at him irritably, then elegantly tucked a strand of golden hair that had fallen across her cheek behind her ear and slightly raised her chin.

"Of course we're going to investigate the truth! In a legal, compliant, and ethical manner!"

Her tone carried a hint of excitement and a desire for challenge, as if she could already see the headlines beckoning to her:

"Just think about it, that's Dio Kent! That arrogant, mean-spirited 'king'!"

"He's secretly working and has become so wealthy! There must be a huge news story behind this in Smallville! How about we call him the 'King of Hired Managers'?"

"."

Do you really want to investigate the truth?

I think it's just a plausible excuse to spend more time alone with Clark.

Pete rolled his eyes, but wisely swallowed his words, saying only weakly:

"When you get hit, remember to stand in front of me."

"Hahaha!"

Chloe chuckled twice, then abruptly pointed at Clark, who seemed to be in a daze, and announced with great momentum: "Then now, the Vanguard Officer is chosen! Clark Kent!"

"."

"Clark?"

"Clark!"

"Huh?! Oh!"

Clark snapped back to reality.

He looked as if he had been pulled out of deep water, but his heart was still pounding wildly in his chest.

Why is your face so red? And what were you spacing out about just now?

Chloe leaned closer, scrutinizing his unusually rosy cheeks and somewhat shifty eyes with a hint of suspicion.

"."

"it's okay no problem."

He hurriedly lowered his head, avoiding Chloe's probing gaze, his eyes randomly falling on a blank sheet of paper on the table, his voice a little dry: "N-nothing! Sorry, I was just spacing out."

He had to admit.

Just seconds before, the exceptionally bright afternoon sun shone precisely through the gaps in the blinds, bathing Chloe in its golden light, gilding her delicate profile with a soft golden hue. As she furrowed her brow in thought, her long eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings, and her fair skin was almost translucent in the light, allowing him to see right through it.
"call out!"

A wisp of flame, following the focus of Clark's gaze, leaped from the white paper!

"Huh?! Where did this fire come from?!"

Startled by the sudden turn of events, Chloe cried out and frantically grabbed a thick sample copy of the school magazine next to her, slamming it down on the fire to quickly extinguish the flames, leaving only a small charred edge and a faint smell of burning.

A strange smell of burning protein filled the air.

Clark was startled and blinked sharply, feeling an unusual dryness and warmth in the corner of his eye, as if some energy had just surged out uncontrollably.

He subconsciously rubbed it, trying to hide his inner surprise and uncertainty.

"Perhaps... the sunlight has been focused on the paper for a while through the glass..."

He offered the most awkward but scientifically plausible explanation, his voice slightly weak.

"never mind."

Chloe patted her chest, still shaken, and looked suspiciously at the window, then at Clark.

However, in the end, the journalist's sense of mission prevailed.

"Never mind that for now, go ask Clark right away." Chloe put her hands on her hips. "Think about it, what if Dio is involved in some illegal activities? What if he's been controlled by some cult? That's quite possible!"

"really?"

Clark instinctively asked a question in return, but in his heart he felt that, given Dio's personality, he was more likely to control the cult.

“Yeah, really.” Pete muttered almost inaudibly, “I also think that cult is probably in deep trouble right now and needs to be saved…”

"?!"

Clark looked at Pete in disbelief. "Pete, you can actually read minds?!"

"."

“I’m going to tell Dio what you’ve said.” Chloe’s face darkened.

Clark gave an awkward smile and said nothing more.

He stood up, pushed open the creaking wooden door of the editorial office, and walked out.

But honestly, looking at the staircase leading to the rooftop at the end of the corridor...
Ugh.
I feel like I'd rather go back and continue facing Chloe.
-
The rooftop of Smallwell High School is like a deserted island forgotten in the air.

The place is perpetually filled with the smell of rust from old water pipes and the sweltering heat of cement baked by the summer sun.

Even the sound of the wind seemed more desolate than elsewhere.

Except for specific times, almost no students are willing to set foot here.
So what is a specific moment?
Before Clark had even reached the last few steps, he heard a suppressed, faint sobbing coming from above.

Immediately afterwards, three girls with red eyes rushed down the street, nearly bumping into him.

"Dior again."

Clark sighed inwardly; this scene was all too familiar to him.

Since Dio and he entered high school, with his impeccable face and dangerous charm, almost every day a different girl was brought to tears or heartbroken by his venomous tongue and cold attitude on the rooftop.

'Smalwell, the lone wolf—Dio Kent.'

That's how it became famous.

"Squeak-"

Pushing open the rusty, heavy iron door, the intense afternoon sunlight rushed in, making Clark squint slightly.

His brother, Dio Kent, was leaning lazily against the railing in the shade, a thick book with an illegible title casually covering his face, blocking out the light and isolating him from the outside world.

It was as if those things had nothing to do with him.

However, after hearing Clark's deliberately heavy footsteps, the book still moved almost imperceptibly.

"explain."

A cold voice came from under the book, not even bothering to offer a greeting.

Clark approached with a smirk, his football boots scraping against the concrete.

"Hey, the potato chips at the school supermarket seem to be half price today?"

The book was suddenly shoved aside, revealing scarlet eyes that shone frighteningly in the shadows.

“I’ll give you three seconds,” Dio scoffed. “Get to the point, my stupid brother.”

"Well"

Automatically filtering out the usual 'modifiers', Clark nervously rubbed his hands together, his palms slightly sweaty.

He took a deep breath, as if preparing for a touchdown charge.

"Hey bro, where's the latest fortune-making opportunity?"