Soren was quite perplexed.
He didn't understand why Charlie had such a strong opinion against Superman that every time he mentioned going to Metropolis, Charlie would question him thoroughly. Eventually, he became clever about it and decided that each time he left, he would come up with a destination other than Metropolis or simply climb out the window and leave through the back door.
Before long, he had become quite skilled at climbing out the window. He would usually toss his bag down first, then step out of the window, jump onto the second-floor balcony, and then climb along the railing to the Roman columns before successfully landing.
He jumped onto the lawn, dusted off his hands, picked up his bag, and excitedly ran toward the back door of the courtyard. He hopped onto the bike that he had tossed at the door and sped off towards the west side of Manhattan.
The twenty-four-inch deep blue bicycle flew swiftly beneath him. Wearing a white T-shirt and with the hot weather making him uncomfortable, he tied back his golden waves behind his ears, weaving through the streets of Manhattan like a gust of wind.
However, as he passed the street near Columbia University, he encountered a group of protesters. People holding flags and signs filled half the street, forcing him to squeeze the brakes and come to a stop.
He looked toward the crowd. People of all ages were present, from the young to the elderly, and without exception, they all wore star-spangled ribbons on their wrists. The signs they held read:
"Superman should not be the president of the Justice League!"
"Demand a thorough investigation into Superman!"
"We don't need an alien guardian!"
"Investigate Superman!"
Soren sat on his bicycle, his legs braced against the ground, frowning as he surveyed the crowd.
What was… going on?
Why has public opinion towards Clark been increasingly negative lately, and why were more and more people opposing Clark becoming the president of the Justice League?
He looked around and found that there were quite a few people participating in the parade. Some individuals were gathered around the steps by the roadside, where a long table was set up, covered with many flyers and documents. Someone was handing out these promotional materials to passersby.
He simply got off his bike, tossed it aside, and walked up to the table, asking, "Hello, could I see those flyers?"
The woman distributing the flyers replied, "Of course," as she pulled out several different flyers and documents to hand to him. Just as he was about to take them, a hand suddenly shot out and intercepted the stack of papers mid-air.
…A boy with brown-black hair, looking about the same age as Soren, was standing next to him. He had a shoulder bag slung across one side and was bent over, flipping through the stack of documents.
He wore a red checkered shirt and had a youthful face, with eyes that matched the color of his hair. His eyelashes were thick and curled, and the corners of his eyes drooped slightly, giving him a naturally friendly expression.
Soren felt an inexplicable thump in his heart as he gazed in surprise at the boy. Before he could even ask why he had taken the flyers, the boy had already lifted his head to look at him.
"Someone's trying to take advantage of the situation," he said, rolling a few of the flyers into a tube while looking into Soren's eyes. "They want to organize a seminar for mutual assistance, but I doubt it's that simple."
Soren looked at him, somewhat puzzled, unable to grasp what he was saying at first. "What?"
The boy smiled and extended his hand, revealing a thin but sturdy wrist. "Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Billy Batson."
"...Hi, just call me Soren," Soren said as he extended a hand and shook hands with the boy.
Billy's grip was surprisingly strong for his slender hands. Soren hadn't expected such force from him and looked up in slight surprise, but Billy had already released his hand just in time, a look of distraction on his face.
A strange feeling surged within Soren suddenly… It was as if his heart was being tugged downward, rolling heavily in his chest. This boy's face seemed familiar, like someone he had seen before.
Was he someone Soren had known in the past?
"...What did you mean by 'seminar' earlier, Billy?" Soren asked, swallowing hard out of curiosity.
Billy poked the cylindrical stack of flyers into Soren's palm. "It's this right here. Take a look for yourself. They're organizing a public seminar about the 'Mandela Effect.' Apparently, more and more people this year believe they've experienced the Mandela Effect, and many seem to still remember—cough, cough, cough—anyway, this isn't a normal phenomenon."
Soren looked down quickly at the flyers.
They contained a brief introduction to the "Mandela Effect," along with some related reports from this year, and several individual interviews where respondents claimed to have terrifying memories of Superman.
The Superman they remembered was entirely different from the one that existed now. That Superman had already ruled the world through force years ago, establishing a totalitarian government and brutally slaughtering all who opposed him…
Soren's brows furrowed tighter as he read through the interviews.
His reason and logical judgment told him that these statements were utterly nonsensical, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that every letter printed on this paper was soaked in blood.
His hands trembled slightly, and he forced himself to appear calm as he neatly stacked the materials and placed them into his bag. He smiled at Billy, saying, "I think this is quite interesting, isn't it? I've never heard of anything like this before. I'll take a good look at it when I get home."
Billy raised an eyebrow, slipping his hands into his pants pockets, watching Soren's movements without saying a word.
"Are you a student here, Billy?" Soren asked as he finished organizing the materials.
Billy nodded, his dark eyes fluttering slightly. His gaze darted back and forth on Soren's face before he silently lowered his eyelids. "I've been attending Columbia for two years."
Soren showed an envious expression. "That's really nice! I'm glad to meet you, Billy."
"...Want to grab a cup of coffee?" Billy mustered the courage to ask, looking up at him.
Soren was taken aback for a moment, then nodded emphatically, smiling, "Sure! Let's go; I'll treat you to coffee."
They bought their cups of coffee and strolled around the campus. Soren pushed his bicycle with one hand and curiously asked Billy, "You mentioned that someone was taking advantage of the situation. Why do you think that? Is there some other motive behind this 'Mandela Effect seminar'?"
Billy glanced at him, gripping his coffee cup. "Don't you think there's been too much opposition to Superman lately? Especially in the last few months… It's not just online; voices against Superman are popping up everywhere. The most mainstream opinion is that, as an alien, what guarantee do we have that he will continue to protect Earth?"
Soren nodded. "I've noticed that too. I keep seeing similar statements, and they even say that compared to Superman, our own people are more like humanity's protectors—"
"When it comes to Superman," Billy's voice tightened slightly as he spoke the name, "his status in people's hearts is starting to waver."
Soren fell silent for a moment, pressing his lips together. "But I believe Superman will always protect this world. I believe in him."
Billy turned to look at him with a complex expression, hesitating for a moment before finally saying, "Have you ever thought—"
Just then, Soren's phone beeped with a text message. He pulled it out to see a message from Clark: Should I come pick you up?
He slightly turned to block Billy's view, placed his coffee in the bike basket, and replied to Clark, "Do I know someone named Billy Batson?"
Clark didn't reply immediately.
He put his phone away and quietly observed Billy walking beside him. After pondering for a long time, just as they were about to exit the campus, he lowered his voice and asked, "We've met before, haven't we?"
Billy stopped in his tracks.
His gaze locked onto Soren's, looking past his shoulder at the street across from them.
Following Billy's gaze, Soren turned to see Clark standing on the opposite side of the street, separated by a long thoroughfare.
Clark wasn't in his uniform but wore a gray T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. Even with his black-framed glasses, his tall stature and impressive physique still turned heads among passersby.
A radiant smile immediately blossomed on Soren's face, like a rose in bloom.
He stood on tiptoe in the bright sunlight, waving energetically at Clark, "I'm over here!"
Clark glanced around, walked across the crosswalk, and approached Soren and Billy.
Soren excitedly pushed his bike forward, greeting him, "Clark! What brings you here? Are you done with your work?"
Behind him, Billy Batson clenched his fists the moment he saw Clark.
His face turned pale as he hesitated to step back, unconsciously gripping his empty coffee cup tighter. He stared at Clark, not uttering a word, his teeth grinding as if the ice that once sealed his mouth had frozen his teeth again.
It seemed as though he suddenly felt the sensation of his skull being pierced by heat vision; his skull throbbed painfully, and his brain pulsed like waves crashing against rocks.
Clark gently wrapped his arm around Soren's shoulders, his gaze landing on Billy.
"I'm just taking a break for now." He said this, but the expression on his face, hidden from Soren, was filled with pain.
Soren, oblivious, replied, "Oh, I was actually going to look for you. By the way, let me introduce you to Billy—"
He gestured backward with his arm and turned his head, only to find that Billy's complexion was already paler than paper.
"Billy? What's wrong with you?" Soren asked in confusion, turning around just as he heard a gunshot and a scream from not far away.
He looked in the direction of the sound, and in that instant, he heard Clark whisper a single word behind him. Then all he could hear was a rush of wind, and Clark suddenly vanished from behind him.
Billy's eyes widened in shock as he exchanged a surprised glance with Soren, then abruptly turned and ran out!
"Billy! Don't go there!" Soren shouted, realizing that Billy was heading straight toward the sound of the gunfire. But in the blink of an eye, Billy had already dashed around the corner of a street.
Soren hurried after him. As he turned the corner, a blinding flash of electricity shot past, bright enough to blind him for half a second. He raised his wrist to shield his eyes, but when he lowered it again, Billy was nowhere to be seen.
"...Billy?"
He stared ahead at the pavement, a hint of confusion crossing his eyes.
Before he could ponder for long, a series of rapid gunshots erupted from the direction of the initial gunfire, followed by more frantic screams and cries. Then, another deafening "bang—" rang out.