Reincarnation In Smallville

The hum of Clark's pickup truck resonated along the dirt road as he drove toward Smallville's urban area. The clear sky and warm sunlight bathed the surrounding fields. The vehicle gently swayed with each bump, and the constant sound of the tires was almost hypnotic.

Clark maintained a calm expression as he observed the bucolic landscape. He had left Tina and Diana at the new house, intending to fetch the remaining furniture needed to make the space livable. He knew this was a new beginning and wanted everything to be perfect.

---

Talon

The Talon was bustling, as usual. Lana Lang stood behind the counter, efficiently attending to customers. She organized coffee cups while observing the flow of people coming and going. Everything seemed normal until her eyes caught an unfamiliar figure at the entrance.

"Who is that?" Lana wondered, noticing a woman with impeccable posture and a critical gaze. The stranger was Desirée Atkins, who surveyed the environment with disdain, her eyes scanning every detail of the Talon as if the place were beneath her standards.

"May I help you?" Lana asked politely, holding a cleaning cloth.

"Perhaps," Desirée replied with a condescending smile. "I was just evaluating this place. It seems so... rudimentary."

"We do our best to please our customers," Lana said, maintaining a neutral tone. "It's a simple but welcoming space."

"Welcoming," the woman echoed, stifling a chuckle. "But it could be so much more. Maybe with a touch of sophistication. I have some ideas on how to transform this place."

"I appreciate your opinion," Lana said, suppressing her frustration. "If you need anything, I'll be at the counter."

The sound of the door opening drew their attention. Clark entered without glancing around, his serene demeanor contrasting with the café's activity. He headed directly to an empty table and sat quietly, as if merely passing through. Lana couldn't hide her surprise at seeing him after so long.

"Clark?" she thought, frowning slightly before returning her attention to Desirée.

"Who is he?" Desirée inquired, her gaze now fixed on Clark. "Do you know him?"

"Yes," Lana replied, still astonished. "Clark is a friend. Actually, he's my neighbor and schoolmate."

"Schoolmate?" Desirée said, a note of lament in her voice. She sighed theatrically, adjusting her posture. "What a waste. I thought he was something more... intriguing. But perhaps I was mistaken."

"Desirée, what do you mean by that?" Lana asked, her brows furrowing.

"Oh, don't take it the wrong way, Lana," Desirée responded with a soft smile. "I'm the new teacher in town, and it would be extremely inappropriate for me to pursue a student, even if he has such a... mature air."

Lana blinked, surprised by what she had just heard. "Of course that would be wrong," she replied, a tone of reproach in her voice. "Not only inappropriate but completely out of place."

Desirée laughed softly, tilting her head to the side. "Calm down, Lana. I was just joking. You take everything so seriously!"

Lana let out a low sigh, choosing not to prolong the conversation. With a single glance at Desirée, she left the counter and walked toward Clark's table.

Clark observed the scene from afar, his neutral expression masking internal amusement. That conversation, as absurd as it was, carried an irony he couldn't ignore. If nothing changed in their lives, in the future, Lana would end up dating the school's football coach—something as ridiculous as what Desirée had insinuated. But he didn't have the energy to care about that now.

"Clark?" Lana called, pulling him from his thoughts.

Clark looked up. "Hi, Lana."

"Welcome back," she said warmly, pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. "I heard about your mom's pregnancy. How are you handling it?"

"Thanks, Lana. I'm glad you heard." Clark smiled sincerely, leaning forward slightly. "I'm happy for her and my dad. They deserve this more than anyone. It's a challenge, but I'll be around to help however I can."

"I imagine it's quite the news for you all," Lana said gently. "You always put others first, Clark. That's something I really admire about you."

Clark smiled again, nodding slightly. "Thank you, Lana. Can I place my order? A black coffee and a slice of that apple pie you always serve here."

"Black coffee and apple pie. Got it," Lana said, rising from the table with a tender smile. "I'll be right back with your order."

Lana returned to the counter, preparing the order carefully. The aroma of black coffee and the sweet scent of apple pie mingled in the air as she arranged everything on the tray. She glanced back at Clark—quiet but serene—and couldn't help but smile.

Clark returned, but he was still the same.

Walking back to the table, Lana placed the order in front of him.

"Here it is. Your coffee and pie. You really should talk to Chloe. She was worried when you disappeared."

Clark looked at the cup, inhaling the aroma before responding calmly. "You're right, Lana. I'll stop by the school to talk to her."

Lana smiled, satisfied with the response.

"She'll be glad to know you're okay," Lana said before turning back to the counter.

Clark picked up the fork, cutting a piece of the apple pie. The sweet, familiar taste brought him a brief moment of comfort. Between bites, he reflected on what he would say to Chloe. After all, there were too many things to clarify.

...

Luthor Mansion

The rhythmic sound of leather shoes echoed through the long corridor of the Luthor mansion. Lionel walked with firm steps, his face stern and eyes filled with calculated coldness. He was not a man easily shaken, but the news of Lex's recent actions had disturbed him.

SLAM!

The office door opened with a decisive push, revealing Lionel facing a Lex absorbed in his thoughts. Lex stood with his back turned, looking out the tall window that displayed the gray landscape. In his hands, a glass of whiskey swirled slowly.

"Lex," Lionel said, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. "I've received troubling information. Can you explain why you're transferring all your properties to the name of an unknown woman?"

"Good afternoon to you too, Dad," Lex replied without turning, his voice tinged with sarcasm.

"Don't provoke me, Lex," Lionel continued, approaching with measured steps. "This is reckless, not to mention insane. We know this type of person. She's just using you."

Lex finally turned, his face contorted in a cold, almost disdainful smile.

"Using? She's not using me. You don't understand, Dad. You never did."

"Understand what, Lex? That you're handing over the empire we've built with so much effort to a complete stranger? This isn't love. It's weakness."

"Weakness?" Lex took a step forward, his voice suddenly filled with aggression. "You think you know what love is? You, who never loved anyone you couldn't manipulate? You think you can understand something beyond your control?"

Lionel maintained an impenetrable expression, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

"Lex, don't be foolish. This will destroy you. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Think clearly."

"Clearly? I've never seen things as clearly as now," Lex retorted, his voice firm, almost cutting. "I love Desirée. And I won't let you—or anyone else—interfere with that. For the first time, something in my life makes sense. You won't take this from me."

Lionel stared at his son for a prolonged moment, his cold gaze evaluating every nuance of Lex's expression. He recognized, at that instant, that something was amiss. There was an almost irrational intensity in his words, an obsession masked as love.

"Lex," Lionel finally said, his voice lowering to a more calculated tone. "You're not well. This is more than a whim. I'll end this conversation for now, but understand that I won't stand by while you throw your life away."

"It's none of your business," Lex snapped, his face contorted in frustration.

"We'll see, son," Lionel replied with a calculating look before turning and leaving the office, closing the door firmly.

As he walked down the corridor, Lionel took a deep breath, his mind already devising a plan. He knew Lex wasn't acting clearly—this wasn't just passion; there was something else at play. And he would find a way to stop whatever was poisoning his son's judgment.

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