On the second-floor hallway late at night,
there came the faint sound of water running through the pipes.
Jordan Kent, his curly hair a complete mess, carefully dried off the "precious artifact" he had just washed. It was the indispensable tool of adolescence that he made use of every night.
After seriously dusting the artifact with powder and completing its maintenance, Jordan finally put it back into its box. Afraid of waking the rest of the family, he gently and quietly opened the bathroom door.
However,
the moment the door cracked open, he was so startled he nearly awakened his Superman bloodline on the spot.
"Holy...!"
Jordan cried out instinctively.
A thin figure was standing silently outside the door, hunched over, face waxy yellow, eyes sunken deep, looking as drained and lifeless as if some succubus had sucked every last bit of energy out of him.
If Jordan had not reacted fast enough and recognized that the person outside was his little brother, he really might have thrown the "collector's-grade artifact" in his hand straight at his face.
"Ian?"
Jordan swallowed hard, still shaken.
Ian slowly lifted his head, his eyes unfocused.
"Yeah. I need to use the bathroom." Even when he spoke, he sounded weak and drained, like he might collapse onto the floor and restart life on the spot at any moment.
"What happened to you? Are you sick?"
Jordan looked at him strangely. As he shoved his artifact into his pocket, he gave Ian a careful once-over. He did genuinely care about the youngest brother in the family.
"I'm fine. My body's just completely drained."
There was a note of frustration in Ian's voice when he answered. People always said that if you wanted results, you had to go hard enough. He had definitely gone hard enough. He just had not expected the skill [Regenerative Surge] to consume so much physical energy.
It restored injuries, yes, but what it consumed was the body's energy reserve. Ian was so hungry he could barely straighten his back. Of course he looked pale and exhausted.
"Uh..."
Jordan had very clearly misunderstood what Ian meant.
His expression became a little complicated.
In the end, it settled into the awkward look of someone thinking, I understand, but I really should not understand.
"..."
The air grew strangely stiff.
"Uh... then... you should wash up first?" Jordan let out two dry laughs to ease the heavy mood and stepped out of the bathroom, giving Ian the space inside.
"Okay."
Ian dragged his feet into the bathroom. Just as he was about to close the door, Jordan suddenly reached out and held it in place, clearly wanting to say something.
"So... Ian."
He carefully chose his words, speaking with all the struggle of someone trying to be a life mentor for the very first time.
"I... I know you might have unlocked the door to some new world."
"But... you've got to have restraint. Especially as a guy. If you don't take care of your body now, you're really going to regret it later."
Jordan's tone was sincere and earnest.
He truly had never imagined he would say something like this. But he could not help it. Ian looked too frightening. The young older brother genuinely could not imagine just how many times his little brother had gone at it alone in his bedroom.
Clearly,
Jordan was judging Ian by his own standards.
There was a serious misunderstanding between the brothers.
"..."
Ian opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but had no idea what to say. In the end, he could only nod as if resigning himself to fate, force out a smile, and slowly close the bathroom door.
Soon, the sound of running water came from inside.
Ian was washing the knife he used to "get stronger," but in Jordan's mind, the thing Ian was washing was probably some kind of "tool" like the one he himself used to train certain muscles.
"Ian really matured early."
Even a kid like Jordan could not help sighing in admiration. Holding the precious artifact hidden in his pocket, he prepared to head back to his room and play a few more rounds of games.
However,
the moment he reached the stairs, he ran straight into his father, Clark, who had just come upstairs. The father and son looked at each other, and the atmosphere immediately turned awkward again.
"Good evening, Jordan."
Still dressed in a wrinkled suit, Clark was the first to break the silence.
"Mm."
Jordan nodded stiffly in response, then moved to head back to his room. Of all the children in the family, the one whose relationship with Clark was the most strained was him.
"Wait."
Clark stopped him.
"Ian is in the bathroom?"
He looked toward the bathroom, where sounds were still coming from inside.
Jordan paused and nodded, answering his father's question. As for Jordan's slightly distant attitude, Clark had no time to worry about improving it right now.
"Has anything seemed off about him lately?" What Clark cared about most right now was Ian's mental health. Earlier, the sight of Ian harming himself in his room while smiling in a disturbingly strange way had truly worried him.
Sure enough,
living too close to Gotham really did affect people, did it not? Whether it was just his imagination or not, Clark could not shake the feeling that Ian's behavior had a certain Gotham-madness flavor to it.
That was completely at odds with Ian's usual image as a well-behaved, obedient good kid who only cared about schoolwork. Naturally, Clark had to consider what Dr. Hannibal had said about mental illness.
Could it be...
Had Ian really already reached the point of schizophrenia?
The thought made Clark's expression grow even more serious. He tried to get some information from Jordan.
However,
"What do you mean, something off about Ian?"
In an instant, Jordan's mind flashed with Ian's face, drained from "excessive indulgence," along with that shocking line about his body being emptied out. After hesitating for a moment, he ultimately chose to protect his little brother's "unspeakable secret."
In other words, a private matter that absolutely could not be told to their parents.
"What could possibly be off about him? He gets good grades, teachers love him, girls practically wish they could fall into his arms ten times a day, and even the troublemakers who like fighting count on the exam prep sheets he sells before tests... I'm telling you, Jonathan wasn't even that popular when he was in middle school."
Jordan's tone carried a faint sourness. Was it jealousy? Maybe a little. But more than that, it was envy. After all, because of his social anxiety, he did not really have any friends.
"Yeah, Ian is basically a model student. Almost perfect... and maybe that's exactly why it's worrying. He's so perfect that it makes you wonder how much pressure he's under." Clark still felt Ian might be struggling because of that.
But in rebellious teenage Jordan's ears, it just sounded like their father, who was rarely home, was nitpicking for no reason.
"If you have flaws, you get lectured. If you don't have flaws, that still isn't good enough... huh. Parents these days."
Jordan rolled his eyes, walked around the father he mentally labeled a professional busybody, and headed straight back to his room.
Bang!
Jordan shut the door loudly.
It sounded like he was venting all the dissatisfaction he felt toward his father.
Clark let out a helpless sigh and withdrew his gaze from Jordan's room. He looked toward the tightly shut bathroom door and hesitated for a moment before narrowing his eyes slightly.
In the next instant,
the superhero's expression suddenly turned uncertain and alarmed.
His eyes flickered.
As if he had just seen something utterly unbelievable.
(End of Chapter)
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