After gaining her new power, Isis could hardly wait to bring those criminals to justice. She knew some officials were corrupt—but not all. There were still good people among them, and she wanted to believe that.
With that resolve, she bid Colin farewell and rushed off, leaving him behind with his wine. He took a slow sip, savoring the taste. It was decent enough.
If not for his intervention, Isis's fate might've been death.
Still, with her newfound strength and nature, she would undoubtedly devote herself to protecting others. She'd save many lives in the days ahead—and those people, in turn, would generate value.
And that value, naturally, would belong to him.
Colin swirled his wine glass thoughtfully. At this point, the only thing that still piqued his interest was watching the world's wealth grow.
Of course, when he was in a good mood, he didn't mind helping people. If they were polite, he might even waive his fee.
If not—well, then the price would rise accordingly.
And if they were parasites, he'd personally send them off to the next world.
"You're complicated," a voice said suddenly behind him.
Colin didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
"Because I'm human—and an ordinary one, at that. Humans are complicated by nature," he replied calmly. Compared to humans, Clark was far too pure.
Clark landed softly beside him, cape fluttering in the night wind. "She's a good person," he said, referring to Isis.
Colin chuckled. "That she is. And you, Kryptonian—recovering this quickly? I'm impressed. I thought I wouldn't see you again for a while."
Clark stayed silent. Truth be told, Colin intrigued him deeply. They both possessed power far beyond human comprehension. Their ideals were different, yes—but that only made Colin more puzzling.
One moment, he could be a merciless killer. The next, a man of boundless kindness. Good and evil coexisted within him, interwoven like black and white. Clark couldn't grasp him at all.
It was the exact opposite of Clark himself—who could only be what he was.
Gazing at the city below, Clark murmured, "The city looks beautiful tonight."
"It does," Colin agreed. "But if you look closer, you'll see the stains." He set down his glass and added, "You staying over tonight?"
Clark smiled faintly. "I'll pass." With that, he turned and took off into the sky.
The Next Morning
Isis found Colin again, brimming with excitement. "I uploaded all the evidence we gathered! It should be handled soon!"
"Good work," Colin said, observing her tired eyes and disheveled hair. "You should rest a little."
She rubbed at her messy hair, clearly exhausted, and stumbled off toward the bathroom to wash up.
Colin glanced at the time. "Guess it's breakfast time," he muttered. He preferred Monica's cooking anyway.
When he returned home, though, he stopped short.
Monica was cleaning the living room—wearing nothing but underwear and an apron.
From any normal perspective, she was flawless: long, sculpted legs, a perfect figure, a narrow waist that framed her curves, and a body that seemed to have been tailored by the gods.
Colin met her eyes. She froze, face flushing crimson. Yesterday, he'd said he'd be abroad overnight—so she'd dressed lightly, thinking she'd have the place to herself.
How could he be home already? A flight should've taken at least a day!
Did he take a private jet?
"Wow," Colin said appreciatively. "That's… perfect."
Monica stammered, face burning, then bolted toward her room.
Once dressed, she looked into the mirror—a composed, capable woman stared back. She slapped her cheeks lightly, then stepped out and approached Colin.
"I'm so sorry, sir!" she blurted, bowing her head.
She was terrified he might fire her.
Colin waved it off. "It's fine. I came back just for breakfast anyway."
That line stunned her. It wasn't just forgiveness—it was acknowledgment. Her eyes softened. Straightening up, she said firmly, "I'll make sure it's perfect."
"Oh, and by the way," Colin added with a teasing smile, "the appetizer before breakfast wasn't bad either."
Monica's composure cracked—her face turned scarlet again.
There was no doubt what he meant.
Watching her flustered retreat, Colin couldn't help but chuckle. She really was fun to tease.
Moments later, Monica stood in the kitchen, trying to calm her racing heart. She often wondered if something was off about Colin. He was kind, yes—but strange. Despite rumors linking him to many women, he never brought anyone home.
Sometimes she even suspected he might prefer men.
But judging from today… that was clearly not the case.
Colin's gaze shifted toward another building nearby.
Through his vision, he saw Clark and Lois Lane kissing.
Lois soon left to prepare breakfast, while Clark's face was still glowing with happiness.
Colin raised a brow. "You don't feel even a little disgusted by that?"
Clark turned to him, answering seriously, "I love her—her soul, her body, everything about her. There's no disgust, only love."
Colin tilted his head thoughtfully. "I see. Well, I can't say I'd feel the same."
"When you fall in love with someone," Clark said gently, "you'll love every part of them too."
"Oh, that might be difficult," Colin replied dryly. "I can see right through people's hearts."
The two men fell into casual conversation again—strange, considering they'd once fought bitterly. Yet here they were, sharing words as calmly as old friends.
"Anyway," Colin said finally, glancing toward the kitchen, "it's breakfast time."
He turned to watch Monica emerge, dressed neatly in a maid outfit, carrying a tray.