[Third Person's PoV]
"How did you even hear about this? We're not even in the same grade! It hasn't even been a full day!" Clark asked, narrowing his eyes and staring at Lois with a mix of confusion and mild disbelief.
Lois grinned. "I'm a reporter," she said proudly, striking a thumbs up with a playful wink. "My ears are always open for a juicy scoop!"
Clark remained stone-faced, his eyes half-lidded as he gave her a deadpan stare.
Lois chuckled at his unimpressed look, brushing her hair over her shoulder. "Come on, Clark. It's high school. People practically live for gossip and drama. Whisper one thing in the morning and it'll echo through the hallways by lunch. News spreads fast—especially when it involves a cute girl transferring in from who-knows-where."
She placed a hand dramatically over her heart and sighed, "It's a tragedy, really. I had this whole plan. I was going to seduce you, sweep you off your feet, and lure you into joining the club."
Clark watched her with a baffled expression before slowly bringing a palm to his forehead, dragging it down his face. "There is something seriously wrong with that head of yours," he muttered with a short chortle.
Lois didn't miss a beat. "Anyway!" she said, suddenly pulling out a notebook and flipping through the pages before landing on a blank one. She clicked her pen, leaned in, and asked, "Let's get down to business. How exactly are you and Miss… Lala Satalin Deviluke acquainted? Childhood sweethearts? Secret pen pals? Or perhaps… an arranged marriage set up by your families?"
Clark leaned forward, narrowed his eyes at her, and slowly reached out toward the small recorder sitting beside her notebook. He brought it close to his mouth and said, with a flat voice, "It is none of your business." Then, with an exaggerated click, he pressed the stop button.
Lois pouted, crossing her arms with an exaggerated huff. "You're no fun! If you're not going to join the journalism club, at least throw me a bone and help me write an actual story."
"I'm pretty sure the school paper doesn't need an exposé on my personal life," Clark replied, raising a skeptical brow. "Aren't you supposed to be writing about actual school events? Like sports, club activities, announcements—things that matter?"
Lois tapped the end of her pen thoughtfully against her plumpy red lips. "Hmm… you have a point," she admitted. "But! A transfer student showing up out of the blue is technically a current event. More so when she gave such a bold introduction, it would help the story more if I got a comment from someone that was in the class, especially if that someone is her supposed fiance."
Clark sighed heavily, clearly exhausted. "Just eat your lunch before the period ends and you waste the whole break pestering me."
Lois set her things down with a groan of defeat. "Alright, alright. You have a point, You win—for now. But don't think you're off the hook." She picked up her sandwich and took a bite. After a moment, she looked back at Clark with curiosity. "Wait… what about you?"
Clark's eyes remained closed as he leaned back on the ground. "What about me?"
"Where's your lunch? Did you forget it or something?"
"No. I didn't forget. I just didn't bring any."
Lois tilted her head, her brows lifting. "Why not?"
"I'm on a diet."
Lois looked at him like he had just grown a second head. "A diet? Seriously?"
"You ask too many questions," Clark replied, already regretting giving her any response at all.
"I'm a reporter—it's literally my job," Lois said with a proud smile. She glanced down at her sandwich, then without hesitation, tore it neatly in half. She held one half out toward Clark.
Clark cracked an eye open. "What for?"
Lois shrugged like it was no big deal. "I'd feel bad if you didn't eat anything all day."
Clark sighed lightly, closing his eyes again. "Just eat your lunch and leave me alone."
Lois gave him a dramatic pout. "I'm trying to do a nice gesture here." She grabbed a napkin from her bag and placed it neatly on Clark's stomach, placing the sandwich on top.
She then unscrewed the lid of her thermos. A rich aroma of warm coffee immediately filled the air. She poured a small cup and set it beside him. "There. A sandwich and coffee. No excuses."
"You know," she added with a mischievous smirk, "you don't have to lie about being on a diet. There's no shame in admitting you forgot your lunch. It's kinda cute, honestly."
Clark exhaled. "You're annoying…"
"Maybe. But I'm also right." Lois suddenly looked at him with surprising seriousness. "Don't let the food go to waste."
Clark opened his eyes and glanced at her. She wasn't teasing this time—just smiling warmly. After a beat, he gave a defeated sigh and muttered, "Fine… Thanks…"
He took the sandwich and began to eat. But something felt… off. The napkin under it wasn't textured like normal. Curious, he glanced down and unfurled it—only to see something printed at the top.
Club Registry Form.
He blinked, held it up, and turned slowly toward Lois.
She was grinning ear to ear, flashing a perfect, innocent smile.
Clark stared at her for a second, dumbfounded. Then he sputtered, clapping a hand over his mouth so he didn't choke. After finally swallowing the bite, his shoulders trembled—and then he burst into laughter.
"Hahaha—god damn it! I can't believe that got me! Hahahaha!"
Lois sat proudly with her chin up.
…
After lunch, Clark exited the stairwell, shaking his head with a smile tugging at his lips. He pulled the club recruitment form from his pocket, gave it one last glance, then crumpled it and tossed it into the nearest trash can. The soft thump echoed faintly as he continued toward his next class.
When he stepped into the room, he was greeted by the cheerful voice of Lala echoing through the space. She stood beside Komi, gesturing animatedly with her hands as she spoke. Komi listened quietly, a soft and almost imperceptible smile curving her lips.
As Clark passed their desk, Komi turned her gaze toward him. Her eyes lit up and she offered a small, shy wave, her expression subtly warm—almost grateful.
Clark gave a brief nod in return, quietly sliding into his seat.
Lala tilted her head toward Komi. "Someone you know?" she asked innocently.
Komi blinked in surprise, then tilted her head in confusion.
Clark immediately facepalmed.
Fortunately, the rest of the school day passed without much incident. Classes rolled by at a manageable pace, and before long, the final bell rang out, marking the end of the day.
Clark made his way toward his locker, the halls slowly thinning out as students left for home or after-school activities.
However he suddenly felt a gentle tug at the back of his shirt.
He stopped, exhaling quietly. "I had a feeling you'd approach me sooner or later… Miku."
Behind him, Miku stood with her head slightly bowed. Her fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt delicately. Her school uniform hugged her frame modestly, and her long, auburn hair veiled part of her face, her headphones resting loosely around her neck. Her lips curled faintly.
'He still remembers me… He didn't even need to look to know it was me.'
Clark's voice held a hint of exasperation but remained guarded. "What do you—"
"Don't." Miku's voice came out in a small, trembling whisper. "Don't turn around yet… I'm not ready."
His expression shifted into a grimace. "Just say it. What do you want?"
"Is it true?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
Clark remained still. "Is what true?"
"That you're… engaged?" she asked softly. Her fingers twitched against his shirt, and her voice trembled with emotion.
Clark's brows furrowed. "It's… complicated," he replied slowly. "It's true—but at the same time, it's not."
"I see…" Miku murmured, her grip beginning to loosen. "Then… are you in love with her?"
There was a moment of silence before Clark answered plainly, "No."
Miku's breath hitched, and then, barely louder than a whisper, she said, "Okay… That's all I wanted to know. See you later, Clark… It was… good seeing you again."
She released his shirt.
Clark remained still for a moment. When he finally turned around, she was gone.
He sighed, long and deep, and rubbed the back of his neck. Without another word, he continued down the hall.
Around the corner, Miku sat with her back against her section of the lockers, her knees drawn to her chest. Her cheeks burned red, and she buried her face in her hands.
"Ughhh… What was I thinking…" she groaned.
She fanned her face furiously with both hands, her ears nearly glowing with heat. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as the reality of what she'd just done sank in.
---
Meanwhile, far above the bustling cities of Japan, atop a solitary tower stood a tall figure bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.
The wind howled around him, tugging at his long, flowing blond hair. His silver battle armor gleamed beneath the sunlight, ornate and pristine, etched with royal markings. A long, elegant sword hung at his side, its hilt adorned with the crest of a foreign house.
He placed a gloved hand upon the sword's hilt and gazed over the horizon with piercing eyes.
"This is the country Maul and Smutts reported the princess to be hiding in…" he murmured to himself, his voice low and steady.
He narrowed his eyes, the wind pressing against his back.
"I'd best begin the search. If I return without her, His Majesty will not be pleased…"
And with that, the armored warrior stepped forward, vanishing into the skyline.
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