"John, why is Loki tied up?"
Peter cast a scrutinizing gaze at John.
"Papa, it's because…"
John hesitated, struggling to find the right words. Feeling stuck, he instinctively turned to Clark for help.
"Godfather, we suspect that Loki transformed into Lex Luthor to rob a bank," Clark explained, taking a deep breath while glancing at Loki, who was feigning innocence.
"You're just suspecting, Clark. You don't have any solid proof," Loki shrugged and said, "This sounds like bias to me. The moment something like this happens, you automatically assume it's my doing."
Clark, a bit anxious, retorted, "That's because you previously disguised yourself as Lana!"
"And what does that have to do with this?"
"You always pull pranks like this, Loki!"
"This isn't a prank—robbing a bank is a crime."
Loki then turned his gaze toward Peter. "Papa, I would never commit such an unlawful act. I'm a law-abiding citizen."
"So, you're saying you didn't rob the bank, Loki?"
Peter stepped in to stop their argument, his expression serious as he questioned Loki.
Though Peter himself was no stranger to bending the law, he had no intention of letting Loki follow in his footsteps.
"No, of course not, Papa. You have to believe me," Loki said, raising his hand toward the ceiling. "I swear on it, Papa."
"Alright, I'll investigate this matter thoroughly. But Clark, Star-Lord, and John—whose idea was it to tie Loki up?"
John glanced at Loki, who was deliberately putting on a victimized expression, and felt utterly frustrated.
He was now certain—Loki had wanted to be captured. His sinister goal was to appear as an innocent victim in front of their father and get John reprimanded.
Sure enough, those born from trees are far more cunning than normal people.
"It was my idea, Papa," John admitted, both annoyed and resigned.
"I acted too impulsively. I won't do it again."
Then, suddenly changing his tone, he added, "Since Loki claims he didn't do it, Papa, to make up for my mistake, I'll track down the real culprit."
John boldly volunteered to find the real perpetrator.
Loki hadn't expected this turn of events.
He was momentarily stunned—this wasn't how his plan was supposed to go.
If John actually uncovered the real culprit, wouldn't he be the one receiving praise from their father while Loki ended up looking like a fool?
Just as Loki was about to object, Peter interrupted.
"Not a bad idea. Just be careful."
Peter immediately approved John's proposal.
In truth, he already had a hunch that Loki had been up to mischief the previous night, which likely led to John and the others tying him up.
However, Peter didn't believe Loki would actually rob a bank.
After all, the kid was only four years old—what possible reason could he have for robbing a bank?
Besides, Peter had never encouraged Loki to become a supervillain.
"Loki, we need to talk."
Peter's gaze locked onto him with an unmistakable intensity.
He needed to have a conversation with Loki—to make sure there were no dangerous tendencies forming.
Loki suddenly felt uneasy.
Shouldn't Clark and John be the ones getting a talking-to instead?
...
Clark, looking somewhat dejected, turned to John. "Do you actually know who the real culprit is?"
"No, I just didn't want to get scolded by Papa while Loki sat back and laughed at me."
John admitted his true motivation—he wasn't all that interested in finding the real thief.
"But honestly, for me, finding the culprit is just a minor challenge."
John spoke with complete confidence.
Clark wasn't as convinced. "Are you sure, John? We don't have any leads."
"We can investigate the scene. Don't forget—you and I both have super vision. We can see things that others can't!"
John patted Clark on the shoulder and added, "Of course, except for lead and zinc."
The two had already discovered a flaw in their vision powers.
Clark's X-ray vision couldn't penetrate lead, while John's was blocked by zinc.
For some unknown reason, these two metals countered their abilities.
"What if we did wrongly accuse Loki?"
Clark asked, sounding uncertain.
"It doesn't matter if we did or not—Loki got what he wanted anyway."
John waved it off. "He just enjoys causing trouble, that's all."
"He kind of reminds me of you when you were younger."
Clark coughed lightly before saying, "You might not like him, but the two of you are actually very similar sometimes."
"No way, you're wrong. He's nothing like me! Don't forget, he literally grew from a tree. Who knows when he'll start sprouting in the wrong direction?"
John scoffed, shaking his head in firm denial.
There was no way he'd ever admit he had anything in common with Loki.
Clark activated his super vision, scanning the entire bank interior.
Before long, he noticed something off.
Within his field of X-ray vision, he detected faint traces of green kryptonite inside the bank.
Although the kryptonite was in minute quantities and difficult to notice, Clark's sharp senses still picked up on it.
Looking at the residual traces of kryptonite dust on the counter, Clark furrowed his brows.
He recalled past incidents involving people mutated by kryptonite radiation.
Could the culprit this time also be someone affected by kryptonite?
Had he really wronged Loki?
...
At the Smallville Antique Shop.
Martha Kent pushed open the store's door and walked inside.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
Not seeing anyone at the counter, Martha called out, "Is anyone here?"
A moment later, a woman hurriedly stepped out from the back, looking somewhat flustered as she greeted her.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kent."
"Hi, good morning. How's business?" Martha asked casually, familiar with the shop owner from her frequent visits.
"Great, just a bit busy lately. I've been dealing with a lot of estate sales in Metropolis and am now thinking about selling this store."
Hearing that the owner wanted to sell the shop, Martha was surprised. "That's unfortunate, Ms. Chris. I thought you liked this place."
Ms. Chris shook her head. "No, not really. This kind of life—repeating the same thing every day—feels meaningless."
"Ah… Is Tina not here?"
Martha, sensing the weight of the conversation, chose to change the subject and asked about the woman's daughter.
"She's at Lana's house. They've been spending a lot of time together lately, practically inseparable."
Martha nodded, chatted for a bit, then brought up the reason for her visit.
"I came to pick up the lamp. Has it been repaired?"
"The lamp?"
Ms. Chris looked momentarily confused, as if she had forgotten.
Martha reminded her, "Jonathan left it here for repairs."
"Oh, right! I remember now. It's in the back—let me go get it."
Chris feigned realization and quickly walked to the back room.
While waiting, Martha curiously examined the various antiques in the shop—the vintage lamps, old-fashioned jewelry boxes, all exuding a sense of history.
As she moved near a mirror, she glanced at her reflection before noticing something unusual beneath a cabinet across the room.
Frowning, she walked over, bent down, and retrieved what turned out to be a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, sealed with a bank strap.
Estimating roughly five thousand dollars, she stared at the money in shock, momentarily unsure of what to do.
"Mrs. Kent, the lamp isn't fixed yet, maybe you could—"
Chris reappeared, speaking mid-sentence—only to stop abruptly as she saw Martha holding the stack of cash.
The two women exchanged glances, and an awkward silence fell between them.
"Uh…"
Martha was the first to react, hastily explaining, "I… I found this under the cabinet."
She handed the money to Chris.
Chris took it expressionlessly, then quickly forced a smile. "Oh! My mistake. A customer paid in cash, and I've been looking for this all day. Thank you, Mrs. Kent! You've saved me a lot of trouble."
"That's a large sum—you should be more careful with it."
Seeing Chris's tense demeanor relax, Martha let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Since the lamp isn't ready, I'll come back another time."
The unsettling atmosphere in the shop made her eager to leave.
In her haste, she didn't even notice that she had left her purse behind.
Chris noticed the purse, quickly opened it, and slipped out Martha's car keys before calling after her.
"Mrs. Kent, your purse!"
Hearing her name, Martha turned back, flustered, and retrieved her bag.
As she finally left, Chris watched her go, her skin rippling and shifting unnaturally.
Within seconds, her entire appearance—her face, body, and even height—underwent a dramatic transformation.
The middle-aged woman vanished, replaced by a young girl.
From Chris's form, she reverted back to her true identity—Tina.
Lowering her gaze, she studied the stolen car keys in her hand, a cold gleam flashing in her eyes.
Out on the street, Martha walked with her bag slung over her shoulder, deep in thought.
She wasn't convinced by Chris's explanation.
Who forgets that much cash?
And from what she remembered, Chris was never the careless type.
Something about the entire interaction in the antique shop felt deeply unsettling.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice a car suddenly veering toward her at full speed.
Shouts of alarm rang out from the crowd, snapping her back to reality.
She looked up—only to see her own car, with Clark behind the wheel, racing straight toward her.
From the way it was speeding toward her, it was clear...
The driver was aiming directly at her!