Chapter Forty-Eight: Where There Is Love, There Is Also Hate

“Then go to hell!”

A senior student wearing rings swung his fist toward Clark.

“Bang!”

Clark grabbed the attacker’s wrist.

Though he wanted to follow the godfather’s advice and land a punch on that arrogant face, the memory of his father’s words—“conceal your abilities”—made him hesitate. In the end, he didn’t throw the punch.

Struggling fiercely within, Clark lost control of his strength and squeezed so hard that the other let out a sharp scream.

“Ah! Damn it! Let go! Let go of me!”

The ringed student struggled desperately to free his wrist, but no matter how much he twisted, he couldn't break free.

Only when he heard the agonized cries did Clark snap out of his daze and suddenly release his grip.

The student stared at his hand, swollen and red as if caught in a vice, pain radiating through it. Shock and anger clouded his face—he hadn’t expected this guy to possess such astonishing strength.

“Bang!”

One of the thug’s companions seeing their leader suffer a loss stepped forward and shoved Clark fiercely.

Clark fell hard to the ground, hitting the metal wire fence with a dull clang.

As the group prepared to gang up on him, the injured student stopped them.

“Forget it, let’s go.”

“But Tang, your hand…”

Tang looked down at his swollen wrist, casting a wary glance at Clark. “Consider this kid lucky. We’ve got other business. Let’s go.”

Though unwilling, the group left in bitter resentment.

Meanwhile, Adrian, a classmate whom Clark had saved, was so frightened by Clark’s incredible strength that he slipped away immediately.

Leaning against the wall, Clark caught his breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Are you alright?”

A somewhat unfamiliar figure suddenly appeared before Clark, extending a hand.

Clark looked up in surprise and saw a freckled, chubby boy.

“Dahl?”

It was Dahl—the one who had bullied him last time and had been pushed off the slide by Azur.

Dahl’s expression was complex as he reached out to help Clark up.

“That was Tang Haggerty, a fifth grader. Last time, I saw him kick a student right into the street.”

After walking along the road for a few minutes, Dahl lowered his head and said to Clark, “I heard he wears two big rings on his right hand—one is his older brother’s high school graduation ring, the other one he made himself in craft class. He often uses those rings to split people’s lips.”

---

“Dahl, I... I don’t understand.”

Clark wanted to ask why Dahl had helped him up.

Dahl stopped and exhaled, looking at Clark.

“I... I saw you and John push the school bus to shore.”

Clark was stunned by Dahl’s words.

“I... I haven’t told anyone, not even my mom.”

Dahl looked at him with a mixture of awe and gratitude.

“Claire’s mom said you’re a miracle from God, a divine manifestation. She said it with terrifying fervor.”

He hesitated, then said to Clark, “That’s probably not a miracle. It was you and John who saved us. I think we shouldn’t thank God but thank you.”

“I swear I’ll keep your secret.”

Seeing Clark’s worry, Dahl promised to protect the two forever.

Clark felt conflicted but still thanked him.

“Thank you, Dahl.”

—

Night fell.

Tang Haggerty was riding his bike home.

The dusk hadn’t fully darkened, and the road was faintly visible.

Tang glanced at the handmade ring on his right hand from craft class.

Two intertwined letters, DB, were engraved on it—representing Dead Bugs, a heavy metal band he admired greatly.

His gaze shifted from the ring to his swollen wrist.

Suddenly, his good mood soured.

He planned to investigate this “Clark” fellow thoroughly before dealing with him.

The night wind brushed against his back, cool and unsettling.

He felt as if something was following him in the growing darkness.

His heart pounded loudly—thudding in his ears, wrists, and chest—making him nervous.

Sometimes it felt less like a beating heart and more like a tachometer in his left chest, the needle racing toward the red zone.

Stopping his bike, Tang nervously glanced behind.

Nothing unusual.

Swallowing hard, he turned back and pedaled forward.

To calm his sudden anxiety and fear, he pulled out a lighter and prepared to smoke a cigarette.

Though only a fifth grader, he had already taught himself how to smoke.

“Click!”

The lighter flicked open, cutting through the black night.

The next second, a shadow lunged at him.

—

“Bang!”

Before he could scream, Tang was slammed to the ground with a muffled thud.

—

“Got something on your mind, Clark?”

At the Patrick Farm, Peter, eating dinner, asked Clark, who looked distracted.

“I... almost got into a fight, Godfather.”

Clark put down his knife and looked up.

“I don’t know why, even though I know I should restrain myself from helping others, I just can’t ignore their struggles. I always disappoint you, Godfather.”

Peter glanced at the equally bewildered Azur, assuming he didn’t know what had happened to Clark.

“Saving others isn’t wrong, Clark.”

“But I don’t understand why Dad keeps telling me to turn a blind eye.”

Clark was trapped in a dilemma after the day’s events.

He agreed with his father’s advice to hide his power, yet Dahl’s words made him think perhaps helping others shouldn’t be so complicated.

Peter asked him, “So you think Jonathan’s words are problematic, right, Clark?”

“No... it’s just...”

Clark couldn’t find the right way to explain.

“Your father’s primary role is as a parent, and he’s human too—a devout believer. He has desires, selfishness, fears, and struggles. So do I, Clark.”

“As a father, he understands your kindness and accepts your gifts. But what do these powers mean to others who have desires, fears, and selfishness?”

Though Peter was somewhat frustrated by Jonathan’s stubbornness, he acknowledged he was a responsible father.

“You and John—because of your powers—people will see you as gods, admire you, trust you unconditionally.”

“But at the same time, people will fear you, see you as a threat, and suspect you without reason. And most will never try to understand you.”

“For every love born of misunderstanding, there will be just as much hatred.”

After a pause, Peter looked into their eyes and said slowly:

“So sometimes, to avoid greater chaos and sacrifice, one must be forced to ignore immediate losses. That’s what Jonathan tried to teach you, Clark. If you hadn’t pushed the bus in the first place, the kidnapping wouldn’t have happened.”

The two boys, hearing so much from Peter for the first time, were deeply moved.

After a moment, Clark asked, “Godfather, do you agree with this?”

Peter shook his head.

“Not absolutely.”

He lifted his coffee cup and said to them:

“I won’t ask you to sacrifice yourselves, nor do I want you to become gods who are loved and hated.”

He did not possess Jonathan’s resolve.

“Dad.”

Azur suddenly looked up, his voice firm.

“Dad, if necessary, I can sacrifice myself for you.”