Standing on the balcony of the east wing guest room, Locke leaned against the ornate railing, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. The cool morning breeze brushed his face, carrying the salty tang of the distant bay.
You had to hand it to Luther Manor—its location was unbeatable.
Perched atop a cliff overlooking Metropolis, the view from here stretched out to the city's skyline, a dazzling array of crystal-like spires gleaming in the golden morning light.
"Hoo… hoo…"
A soft breathing sound drew Locke's attention downward to the crib beside him.
Seraphiel slept soundly, curled up in soft blankets, her tiny face rising and falling with each breath, her dark lashes like delicate wings in the morning glow.
With a gentle smile, Locke let himself sink into the quiet calm of surviving another ordeal.
Until—
"Brrt… brrt… brrt…"
The flip phone on the table buzzed abruptly, its monotone ring jarring in the serene morning.
Huh.
Looked like Grey had gotten him a replacement phone identical to the old one, right down to the number.
Wait—
Noticing Seraphiel's eyelids flutter, about to wake, Locke lunged forward, snatching the phone with a touch of panic and flipping it open in one swift motion.
He hit the answer button, and Jonathan's booming voice filled the earpiece, mixed with the clucking of chickens in the background. "Locke! Where you at? The farm's practically drowning in eggs from those Rhode Island Reds!"
Locke couldn't help but chuckle, picturing Jonathan standing in the henhouse, surrounded by eggs, flustered and helpless.
The weight of the past few days seemed to lighten under the familiar warmth of everyday life.
"Just a little hiccup," Locke said, sipping his coffee, his tone easy. "I'll fill you in when I'm back—phone bill's steep, you know."
"But I've got good news." He paused, his gaze drifting to the crib. "The Kent family's getting a new member."
"…"
Dead silence on the other end, like the signal had dropped.
Then—"Hot damn! That's awesome! I knew you had it in you!" Jonathan's hearty laugh nearly blew out the earpiece. "Martha! Martha, get over here! Locke's done it! We're getting a new family member! Hahaha!"
Huh? Had what in me?
Locke pulled the phone away to save his eardrums, but before he could clarify—
"Brrt, brrt, brrt…"
Jonathan hung up, probably rushing off to tell Martha the news.
Pocketing the phone, Locke let out a long breath.
Demonic enforcers, hellfire, fated death… his taut nerves finally began to ease after that call.
That night of life-or-death combat felt like a distant nightmare now.
But at least for now…
Everything had settled.
He looked down at Seraphiel's peaceful sleeping face, a newfound calm swelling in his chest.
Martha and Jonathan were safe and sound. Thanks to the blue ladybug Giorno had left behind by some twist of fate, Locke—the man destined to die according to Logan—had survived.
And Seraphiel, this tiny, sleeping dragon, was finally safe by his side.
"Sir, would you like another coffee?" a maid asked softly from the shadows behind the balcony, holding a silver coffee pot.
"No, thanks," Locke said with a shake of his head. "Where's my son?"
"Young Master Lex took him out this morning," the maid replied respectfully. "Said he wanted to show him around the estate."
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Lex, huh?
Well, if Dio was tagging along, it was probably a good thing.
The kid had been wound up tight these past few days.
As for Logan…
Thinking of his unpredictable friend, Locke gave a wry smile.
Before dawn, Logan had stopped by to say goodbye, muttering something about "time to handle my own business now that this is sorted."
When pressed on what that meant, he just pointed mysteriously at the sky.
Then, judging by his direction, he'd apparently chosen to leave by sea.
Still, Logan had seemed relaxed, so it probably wasn't anything dangerous.
Whirrr!
A distant roar interrupted his thoughts.
Locke looked up to see a black helicopter bearing the LutherCorp logo slicing through the sky.
The downdraft made Seraphiel wrinkle her nose in her sleep, letting out a few mumbled sounds.
Setting down his coffee, Locke gently smoothed her brow, and the little one quieted instantly, her tiny hand instinctively grabbing his finger.
Didn't look much like a tyrannical dragon now, did she?
"This kid…" Locke chuckled softly.
It reminded him of the first time he met Dio—same vibe, just a lot more painful.
Tap, tap… tap, tap.
"My friend, you're looking lively again," a voice called from the balcony entrance.
The rich guy strolled in, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, his blue eyes glinting curiously behind gold-rimmed glasses. Sunlight filtered through the greenery, casting dappled patterns on his polished shoes.
He looked like he'd stepped straight off the cover of Forbes.
"Thanks to you, that chopper came just in time," Locke said, turning with a slight grin.
"Haha," Lionel laughed lightly, joining him at the railing. "I'm guessing you're not talking about the Lamborghini that got blown to smithereens?"
They shared a knowing grin, clinking their coffee cups.
The estate's pool below shimmered like spilled mercury.
"Seriously, though," Lionel said, his tone sobering. "I had no idea you were being hunted."
He adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the morning light, masking a hint of frustration in his eyes. "When you called saying, 'Get me the fastest car to the docks, and don't ask why if you're my brother,' it sounded like you'd gotten into some deep trouble and were about to skip the country."
He sipped his coffee, shaking his head. "I thought you'd finally lost it and taken out that IRS guy, Kristen."
"I even stuffed some cash in the trunk for you."
"Cough, cough, cough!"
"Lionel!" Locke nearly choked on his coffee. "You think I'm that kind of guy?"
No wonder Lionel had been so flashy about it—he was using LutherCorp's clout to cover for him.
Explained why no one stopped him during that wild ride.
"Who's to say?" Lionel said, eyeing Locke up and down. "I never would've pegged my farmer friend as a superhuman."
He tapped the rim of his coffee cup, producing a crisp chime. "You kept me in the dark, Locke."
"Eh…" Locke rubbed his temple, dodging Lionel's piercing gaze. "I didn't want to drag you into it, Lionel. Back then… I wasn't even sure if I was being chased by a group of people or something far worse."
"Drag me into it?" Lionel snorted, his eyes sharpening behind his glasses. "LutherCorp may just be a big name in Metropolis for now, but we're not pushovers, Locke."
"Anyone who messes with my friends better be ready to pay a price."
"Lionel," Locke sighed, turning to grip the balcony railing, the metal bending slightly under his palm. "It's not that simple. You saw that wrecked highway, right?"
Lionel froze.
He'd seen the photos.
A twenty-meter stretch of asphalt looked like a giant beast had torn it apart, with melted guardrail posts dripping like candle wax.
It had taken serious effort to cover that up.
"But…" Lionel opened his mouth, itching to press for details.
Locke cut him off, switching topics. "By the way, what's the latest on the aftermath?"
"Hey!" Lionel bristled, frustrated that Locke dodged the core issue again. His fingers tightened on his cup, and with a hint of exasperation, he slammed it down on the glass side table.
He glared at Locke for a solid three seconds, his expression a mix of emotions.
But finally, as if giving up, he slumped back in his chair, rubbing his brow. "David Copperfield, the youngest police chief in Metropolis history," he said, pulling a business card from his suit pocket. "He's got a nose for superhuman crimes. Lucky for you, he didn't spot you guys."
"Otherwise, this wouldn't have been brushed off as just a 'LutherCorp employee joyriding the CEO's car and accidentally blowing it up off a cliff.'"