Bright sunlight poured over the quiet lake beside the forest.
The remains of last night's barbecue party were scattered along the shore. Paper plates, empty bottles, and half-burned firewood lay abandoned across the ground, the only signs that dozens of students had gathered there just hours earlier.
Suddenly—
Bang!
A hand burst violently through the thick layer of ice covering the lake.
It looked like something out of a horror story. The pale arm pushed upward from beneath the frozen surface like the hand of a corpse clawing its way out of a grave.
The skin was icy blue, the color of flesh frozen solid by deadly winter cold.
Moments later, a figure dragged himself out of the lake and staggered toward the riverbank.
His clothes were soaked, and his entire body trembled uncontrollably. Under normal circumstances it would already be a miracle for someone to survive falling into a freezing lake.
But he had been submerged all night.
Sean collapsed onto the ground, shards of ice clinging to his eyebrows and hair. His body shook violently as he pulled out a discarded lighter from the trash left by the party.
With stiff fingers, he lit a small pile of dry wood.
The fire flickered weakly at first before growing into a steady flame. Sean stretched his frozen hands toward the warmth, desperate to thaw the numbness in his bones.
Yet something strange happened.
The heat rising from the flames seemed to vanish into the air around him.
Within seconds, the burning firewood lost its glow.
The flames faded.
The wood slowly hardened into a block of frost.
Sean stared in disbelief.
At the same time, the terrifying cold surrounding his body began to fade.
The bluish color of his skin gradually disappeared, returning to a normal human tone.
It was as if life had flowed back into him.
Sean looked down at his hands in shock.
His thoughts felt sluggish at first, like his brain was still thawing after a long freeze. But gradually his mind began to race.
Something unbelievable had happened to him.
He clenched his fists.
A powerful surge of strength filled his muscles. His body felt lighter and stronger than it had ever been before.
After a moment of testing his movement, Sean slowly stood up.
Now that he felt recovered, the only thing he wanted was to go home.
But the moment he stepped out of the forest, the extreme cold returned.
Frost instantly formed along his eyebrows again.
His body trembled as he stumbled toward the road.
A car happened to be passing by.
Sean waved desperately.
The driver slammed on the brakes.
The door opened, and a middle-aged man stepped out of the car.
"Kid, what happened to you?" the man asked with concern.
He walked closer and reached out to help support Sean.
The instant their bodies touched—
Everything changed.
The warmth inside the man's body was sucked away like water draining into a whirlpool.
His skin froze instantly.
In less than a second, he turned into a solid statue of ice.
Then the frozen body collapsed onto the asphalt.
It shattered into countless blood-stained ice fragments.
Sean stood there, stunned.
The freezing pain inside his own body disappeared as warmth returned again.
At the same time, a new wave of strength surged through him.
Sean stared at his hands.
Then he reached toward the nearby car.
With almost no effort, he lifted the entire vehicle into the air as if it weighed nothing more than a plastic toy.
A sudden realization struck him.
Sean slowly turned his head toward the distant town.
His eyes burned with excitement.
He looked like a gold prospector who had just discovered a single grain of gold—only to raise his head and see an entire mountain made of treasure.
He swallowed hard.
There was a thermal power plant in town.
…
Beep.
Heavy wool curtains blocked out the sunlight inside a luxurious office.
A quiet fire burned inside the fireplace, filling the room with warmth.
Lex Luthor sat behind his desk and took a slow sip of whiskey.
The liquor burned down his throat like fire, but his expression remained perfectly calm.
On his computer screen, he browsed through archived news articles and online discussions from residents of the small town.
Nearby on the table sat several stacks of freshly printed hundred-dollar bills.
Click.
The door opened.
A servant stepped aside as a middle-aged man walked into the room.
He wore a long windbreaker, and his thinning hair and sharp eyes gave him the look of a calculating professional.
In his hand he carried a thick kraft paper envelope.
He tapped the envelope lightly against his thigh as he approached.
"Mr. Luthor," the man said casually, "is the money ready?"
"Roger Nicholson, if I remember correctly."
Lex stood up slowly.
He poured a glass of amber whiskey and offered it politely to his visitor with a calm smile.
"A reporter from the Metropolitan Enquirer," Lex continued. "You said you had something interesting to show me."
"This photo made our sales skyrocket."
Nicholson opened his envelope and pulled out a folded newspaper.
In the center of the front page was a striking photograph.
The picture showed Lex Luthor standing outside a bank with a pistol in his hand and a bag of money while running through the doorway.
"That's old news," Lex said lightly with a chuckle.
"I would think a reporter like Mr. Nicholson would know the latest developments about that robbery."
"Journalism works like that," Nicholson replied with a shrug.
"Stories get outdated quickly. It's hard to keep an article on the front page for long."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Mr. Luthor, have you ever dug potatoes before?"
Lex raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Nicholson smiled proudly.
"When you dig potatoes, you rarely pull up just one," he explained. "Usually a whole bunch comes up together."
He lifted the thick document envelope.
"This file is almost as heavy as a stack of cash," he continued with a sigh. "Every page describes something from your criminal record when you were a minor."
He handed the envelope across the desk.
"It's honestly impressive."
"So the reporter wasn't exaggerating on the phone," Lex said calmly as he flipped through the documents.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"You really did uncover some details from my… rebellious youth."
"Those are sealed records and destroyed digital files," Lex continued. "I'm curious how you managed to find them."
He returned to his chair and leaned back.
"It's obvious your father spent a fortune covering these up," Nicholson said with a sneer.
"I'm not as wealthy as your father," he continued, "but luckily it doesn't cost much to bribe the bored caretaker of an old record room."
Nicholson glanced proudly at the files.
"That man spent his days reading dusty archives," he said. "Thanks to him, I just discovered the jackpot of my career."
He leaned forward again.
"Imagine what would happen if these records became public," he said slowly.
"The public would learn that the heir of the Luthor family—the man who claimed he was framed for a robbery—actually had a long history of crimes as a teenager."
"Compared to that," he added with a grin, "robbing a bank would look pretty minor."
Nicholson shrugged confidently.
"In my experience as a journalist, people love dramatic plot twists."
His eyes drifted toward the neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills on the table.
"That kind of story would definitely shake the stock price of LuthorCorp."
"Mr. Nicholson," Lex said calmly, "the money is yours."
He reached under the desk and pulled out a black cloth bag.
"Mr. Luthor," Nicholson said with a laugh, "you're even providing the bag?"
He quickly scooped the crisp bills from the table and stuffed them inside.
Lex watched him quietly, completely unconcerned.
"You must feel very satisfied right now," Lex said softly.
"Extorting the famous Luthor family must be quite an achievement."
Nicholson tied the bag shut and grinned.
"It feels pretty good to beat the great Luthor father and son at their own game."
He picked up the bag and walked toward the door.
"The documents I gave you are only copies," he added casually while reaching for the handle.
"Try living a more honest life from now on, Lex Luthor."
"If you walk out that door," Lex said calmly behind him, "you will disappear from this world immediately."
Nicholson froze.
Slowly he turned around.
"You're going to kill me over this little bit of money?" he asked with a sneer.
"You came to blackmail the heir of a billionaire," Nicholson continued confidently. "Do you really think I would come unprepared?"
"If I don't return home on time, the contents of those files will automatically be sent to several major newspapers."
He shrugged.
"And besides, is one hundred thousand dollars really worth committing murder?"
"I wasn't greedy," he added. "I only asked for a reasonable amount."
"No," Lex said calmly, shaking his head.
"You will live a long and healthy life."
Nicholson frowned.
"Then what are you talking about?"
"There will simply be no evidence that you exist anymore," Lex replied casually.
Nicholson stared at him.
"What does that even mean?"
"Your driver's license," Lex said while scrolling through the news on his computer. "Your passport. Your bank accounts."
"Even your tax records."
He spoke as if discussing something trivial.
"All erased."
"One phone call," Lex continued calmly, "and there will be no proof you ever lived."
"Mr. Luthor, are you trying to scare me?"
"Call your bank," Lex said without looking up. "See if your account still exists."
Then he glanced at Nicholson.
"That is, if you still have a phone number."
Nicholson quickly pulled out his phone.
He tried to make a call.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Every attempt failed.
Cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
His confident expression vanished, replaced by panic.
"How… how did you do that?"
....
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