In the blink of an eye, a month passed quietly.
Under Rock’s meticulous care, Dio was finally discharged from the hospital.
Although the kid had been lively and bouncing around the whole time, Rock had insisted on keeping him pinned to the hospital bed for full recovery.
During this period, Clark, Jonathan, and Martha took turns helping Rock look after the stubborn blonde boy.
Even Anthony made time to drop by once, bringing a basket of fresh fruit along with a dramatic greeting: “Oh, my little hero!
You scared me half to death!”
Lex Luthor, however, never showed up.
Perhaps Lionel Luthor was still shaken, terrified that his son might suffer another accident, or perhaps family business kept him far too busy.
But Rock didn’t mind.
After all, LuthorCorp had picked up all of Dio’s medical expenses, arranged the highest-tier VIP suite, and even provided daily meals prepared by top chefs.
Besides, according to Jonathan, LuthorCorp had also stepped into the dispute between the farm and the insurance company.
The insurance representative had decisively handed over a hefty settlement under the pretense of “falling object damage.”
The payout was enough to rival a full quarter’s worth of crop sales from both Jonathan’s and Rock’s farms combined.
Of course, this was just Lionel’s goodwill, and they didn’t take it for granted.
After all, if Dio kept eating food made by five-star chefs, his palate would become far too spoiled, and Rock wouldn’t be able to afford him anymore.
Which brought them to today.
The sunshine was bright, the breeze gentle and pleasant.
Dio stood at the hospital entrance, squinting up at the long-unseen Kansas sky.
He was dressed in a short-sleeved shirt, his golden hair gleaming under the sun.
The wound on his collarbone had long since healed, leaving behind only a faint scar.
Rock clapped him on the shoulder.
“Let’s go, brat.
Time to go home.”
Dio curled his lip, but instead of arguing like usual, he just grunted a soft acknowledgment.
In the distance, Jonathan’s old pickup truck rumbled toward them.
Clark stuck his head out the window, waving excitedly.
“Dio!
Mom brought your favorite blueberry pie!”
Dio rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched upward into an involuntary smile.
***
Dusk’s twilight bathed the wooden house at Kent Farm as the old pickup bounced along the gravel driveway into the yard.
Martha and Jonathan exchanged a knowing look.
The moment Dio climbed down, they grabbed Clark—who was eager to follow—from both sides.
“Come on, Clark,” Martha said gently but firmly, pulling her son by the arm.
“We should be getting home.”
“?!”
“But I want to…” Clark stared longingly at Dio’s receding back.
“Alright, Clark.” Jonathan slung an arm around his boy’s shoulders.
“Your Uncle Rock and Dio need some time alone.”
The pickup started up again and ambled off toward their farm down the road.
Dio raised an eyebrow.
“At least they know when to back off.”
“Little brat.” Rock chuckled, pushing open the front door.
“Go take a shower and change.
I’ll get dinner ready.”
“Sure, Dad.” Dio licked his lips, clearly looking forward to it.
When he emerged from the bathroom drying his wet golden hair, an irresistible aroma filled the living room.
The dining table was loaded with all his favorites—slow-roasted beef short ribs drizzled with black pepper sauce, a golden crispy mountain of fried onion rings, and a steaming bowl of creamy corn chowder.
“Whoa,” Dio whistled.
“Dad, did you blow through the entire settlement money?”
“There’s plenty left,” Rock snorted.
Compared to that ten thousand dollars, this feast was just a drop in the bucket.
“Cut the talk.” He poured apple juice into two glasses.
Candlelight flickered on the table, casting a warm glow over this long-overdue moment between father and son.
Dio cut into his rib, suddenly breaking the silence.
“So…
the medical bills…”
Clearly, he was still worried whether the payout had been swallowed by hospital fees.
“LuthorCorp settled every penny,” Rock said, taking a sip of juice.
“Though the little Luthor you saved hasn’t shown up again.”
Dio’s fork scraped lightly against the plate.
“Who cares about that brat.”
Outside the window, night gradually enveloped the plains of Smallville.
Watching his son’s quiet profile in the candlelight, Rock suddenly realized that this troublemaking little bastard seemed to have grown up a bit.
“Dio.” Rock put down his utensils.
“About that day in the cornfield…”
“Dad,” Dio interrupted, his red eyes gleaming oddly in the candlelight.
“I discovered something.”
“What?”
“The The World…” Dio’s voice held a thrum of suppressed excitement.
“It seems like it can stop time!”
“…”
“And how long do you think it lasts?”
“One to three seconds?
It felt pretty long to me anyway.”
“Is that so?” Rock couldn’t suppress a smile.
It seemed the boy still had a poor sense of time; in reality, the duration he could freeze was only 0.1 seconds.
“Dio.” Rock set his glass down, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.
“Hmm?” The blonde boy didn’t even look up as he cut his rib.
“Listen to me,” Rock said softly.
“You saved a stranger.
Knowing the danger, you still chose to protect someone weaker than you.
That is commendable.”
Dio’s crimson eyes flickered, and his lips curled up involuntarily.
“However…” Rock shifted his tone.
“I have to tell you what true courage really is.”
“Huh?” Dio’s smile froze.
“What do you mean, old man?
A miracle happened in the end, didn’t it?
We both survived!”
“Yes, Dio…” Walking over to his son, Rock placed a heavy hand on Dio’s shoulder, his voice faltering slightly.
“As your father, I don’t want you to have that kind of courage.
I’m sorry for dumping such heavy concepts on you when you’re still so young.
First, about miracles…
A so-called miracle can only exist on the foundation of possibility and sufficient strength.
I hope that unless you’re truly driven into a corner, you never pin your hopes on something so ethereal.
After all, a student who never pays attention in class or does his homework—even if he summons the courage to take the exam—will find nothing waiting for him but failure.”
The wind outside suddenly fell still.
Dio stared at his distorted reflection in the apple juice, the scar on his collarbone and his birthmark pulsing with a faint heat.
He remembered the lethal red beam in the cornfield, Lex’s terrified screams, and his own blood boiling in that moment with almost reckless battle lust.
Dio fell silent for a long time.
Finally, he looked up, a complex light flashing in his red eyes.
“So what you’re saying is, I should have just left him behind?”
“No.” Rock shook his head gently.
“I’m saying that next time something like this happens, secure your own safety and the safety of those beside you first, then seek the most reliable way to help.
courage that will let me watch you grow up without worrying myself to death!”
“…Annoying.” Dio turned his face away, his golden hair falling to hide his expression.
“Next time, I’ll make sure to recite your little sermon before saving anyone.”
Chuckling, Rock ruffled his son’s soft golden hair.
“That’s my boy.
Now…” He turned around and retrieved a steaming dish from the oven.
“Try this—my newly developed spicy apple pie.”
“Spicy?!” Dio’s look of disgust was vivid in the candlelight.
“Old man, have your taste buds finally died completely?”
“You cheeky brat…”
“Whatever, just for tonight.” Rock raised his glass.
“To your discharge from the hospital.”
Dio grinned, showing his sharp fangs.
“To cheating death?”
“To family reunited,” Rock corrected.
The laughter of father and son echoed through the night sky over the farm.
Far in the distance, a shooting star sliced across the heavens—pure gold this time, strikingly like Dio’s hair shining in the sun.
***
In the blink of an eye, summer vacation drew to a close.
Rock returned from the fields with Clark and Dio, heavy ears of wheat signaling the arrival of harvest season.
That’s right, even Dio had been dragged into the manual labor force, sweating buckets in the wheat fields every day—after all, having a Stand as useful as his and not using it to harvest oats was an outright waste.
Naturally, the same applied to Clark.
With his super-physique, not using him to harvest oats was equally wasteful.
Clark was happy enough, though.
It gave him an excuse to practically live at Rock Farm, letting him stick to Dio all day long like a piece of stubborn candy wrapper.
Dio’s evaluation of this was: “This guy is like my second Stand!
Once he sticks to you, you can’t shake him off—he even grows legs and chases you down on his own!”
Watching the two boys fooling around in the haystacks, Rock palmed his forehead.
“Alright, you two, stop fooling around.
Let me get inside—”
“Huh?”
The front door was unlocked?
Raising a hand to stop the two boys behind him, Rock’s eyes sharpened.
Star Platinum flickered into visibility behind him.
“Stay behind me.”
Exchanging a glance with Clark, Dio stopped in his tracks with practiced tacit understanding.
Rock slowly stepped forward and gently pushed the door open.
The first thing to hit his nostrils was a rich, savory aroma of cooking meat.
A scent Rock knew all too well—it was Dio’s prized high-grade ribeye, a premium steak he only pulled out to sear on special occasions.
Did a thief get so hungry they couldn’t help cooking themselves a meal?
“Haha…
Hahaha!” Hearty laughter echoed from the living room.
How brazen!
This was intolerable!
*BANG!*
Rock slammed the door all the way open.
The sight that met his eyes was a young man with three golden donuts styled into his hair, lounging sprawled out on the couch, happily munching on steak while watching TV.
Hearing the commotion, the man actually turned his head, without a single shred of embarrassment, and flashed a brilliant smile: “Yo!
Long time no see—Grandpa Rock!
Oh?
You brought Star Platinum too!
Hahaha, you’re here as well—Ciao~”