In the evening, Clark returned home, his mind heavy with worries.
"The distributor gets 5 points."
"This month's feed bill is over budget again."
Martha and Jonathan were calculating recent expenses, but from their tone, it didn't sound very optimistic.
Martha operated the calculator and said, "Add another 2 for the house loan, and then there's the repair cost for the harvester."
After calculating all the household expenses, Marthalooked at Jonathan with a helpless expression.
"This month's situation is worse than last month."
On the other side, Eric was flipping through the newspaper and said without lifting his head, "It's a total of fifty-four thousand five hundred and one dollars and thirty-eight cents."
After calculating the bills for his parents, Eric looked up and asked Jonathan, "Is it bad?"
"Worse than we imagined. It looks like we'll have to take out a loan."
Jonathan was making coffee and explained to Eric.
"Hey, Dad, Mom, Eric."
Clark, who had been standing by the door listening for a while, composed himself and greeted them.
"Hey, Clark."
Jonathan casually placed the coffee on the table and greeted his eldest son.
"Dad, do we have to take out a loan?"
Clark put down his backpack and asked worriedly.
"It looks that way."
"But the interest on the loan will make us—" Clarkdidn't think it was a good idea.
"Maybe I can help."
He felt it was his responsibility to help his parents solve their difficulties. "If I don't go to high school and directly participate in professional sports competitions, then become an endorser, I can make a fortune."
Clark stopped speaking before he finished, seeing the strange looks his parents and Eric were giving him.
"Alright, I was just trying to cheer you up."
Clark's expression was slightly dejected.
"Clark, your father and I want to see your face on a cereal box, but we'd rather you finish your studies first."
Martha felt her eldest son's idea was dangerous.
"The same goes for Eric. You two have already helped a lot. The amount of work you completed on the farm last quarter is equivalent to seven or eight adults."
Martha said, looking at Eric next to her, praising them while warning them never to think about dropping out of school.
As dinner was nearing its end, Clark looked at Ericwith a strange expression and asked him:
"Eric, do you know what happened to the football team?"
"What happened?"
Eric looked up and asked, pretending to be ignorant.
The news of Dan Brown's death had spread throughout the school, so Eric naturally knew what he wanted to ask.
"Is it Coach Watt's team?"
Martha was stirring the fruit salad and became interested when Clark mentioned the football team.
"Jonathan used to be Coach Watt's student too. I remember his position was tailback, right? Jonathan."
"Uh-huh, number 32 tailback, but that's not a pleasant memory for me."
Jonathan clearly didn't want to talk about his years on the football team. He took a sip of heated milk and asked Clark, "So, what's wrong with Coach Watt's football team?"
"A member of the team named Dan Brownunfortunately died yesterday."
Clark looked at Eric, seemingly trying to discern something from his younger brother's face.
But to his disappointment, Eric continued to focus on his dinner, seemingly uninterested in what he was saying.
"Oh, that's truly sad news."
Martha put down her fruit salad in surprise. "Did the police find any clues and catch the killer?"
"Not yet, but I heard that Dan Brown had signs of high-temperature burns all over his body—electrocution, or perhaps scorched by some kind of high-temperature heat source? I heard the specific details from Chloe."
Clark relayed the news he had heard from his best friend.
The heavy topic made dinner at the Kent home somewhat somber. After Martha expressed her condolences for Dan Brown, she quickly shifted the topic to farm issues.
After dinner, Eric returned to his room.
"Knock, knock, knock!"
Before he could sit down, there was a knock on the door.
"Eric, it's me."
Clark's voice sounded from outside.
"You rarely come into my room, Clark."
Eric opened the door to let Clark in.
"When was the last time? Let me think, it was when you accidentally damaged the school's sports equipment, didn't have money to pay for it, and didn't want our parents to know, so you came to me for help."
Eric pulled a chair from his desk and sat down, facing Clark, "This time you accidentally broke even more expensive equipment in the gym?"
"It's not about borrowing money, it's about Dan Brown."
Clark's expression was serious. He looked directly at Eric, "Is Dan Brown's death related to you?"
"Why do you ask that?"
Eric's eyebrows twitched.
"You had a conflict with Dan Brown at school before, and your relationship with the football team has always been bad."
"Are you suspecting me just because of those reasons? Clark, that's not a convincing argument."
"And—"
Clark's expression changed slightly. He hesitated for a few seconds, "Is it because Whitney and the others chose me as Scarecrow, you—"
"Clark."
Eric stopped him from speaking. "You seem to think of me as the kind of guy who's keen on revenge from behind the scenes, but I'm sorry, most of the time I'm too lazy to act. I'd rather wait for them to self-destruct."
"Self-destruct?"
Clark shook his head, "I don't think Dan Brown's death was suicide."
"Alright, now I seriously doubt my impression in your mind."
Eric sighed, deliberately showing a disappointed look, "Clark, it seems that in your mind, I am the kind of existence that can destroy a person's body at any time."
"..."
Clark frowned at his brother's accusation, "In fact, Eric, you've always been hiding yourself."
"Hiding myself?"
"Yes. You never explain to me where that money on you comes from, you never tell me why you go to Metropolis late at night, and you never tell me why you smell like blood!"
Clark's tone was a little agitated, but he still suppressed his anger, "Gangsters, robbery, gunfights—I've always wondered what you've been doing in Metropolis, and if those words might be linked to you. I won't tell Father and Mother, just like I didn't say just now that you're hiding a large sum of money that could instantly solve our family's debt crisis if brought out. I'll remain silent, but that doesn't mean I don't think about it a lot."
"You've never treated me like your brother! Eric!"
"You are gifted, and I am dull, but—I know how to do the right thing! And I can't be sure if you will do the wrong thing."
Clark's tone was full of anger and questioning.
"We really do need to communicate more, Clark."
Eric hadn't expected Clark to have such a deep prejudice against him.
But he was too lazy to explain and said directly, "However, you have more important things to do. Tomorrow is the homecoming dance, which is one of the most important gatherings for the football team. If I were the killer, I would definitely find a way to take them all out."
"I'll stop you!"
Clark's tone became even more resolute.
He seemed to have concluded that Eric was the mastermind.
"Uh-huh, I'm looking forward to it."