There was a long silence in the office.
However, Dr. Hannibal observed Ian's series of expression changes.
"You have a deep guard up against me... but that is normal, as this is our first meeting. It takes time to establish mutual trust."
"We'll stop here for today. I also need some time to properly study your situation," Dr. Hannibal said to the young man in a calm tone.
"Is my illness very peculiar?"
Ian couldn't help but ask.
"No, it's just psychological pressure, not a mental illness. Don't worry about it too much," Dr. Hannibal set down his notebook and pen, stood up, and straightened his suit.
"I recommend you try writing. Painting is also a good option. Expressing the stories in your dreams will help reduce the dreams' influence on you."
"Being troubled by nightmares might be a talent. This may help you become a great creator. I know that many famous authors' timeless classics originated from dreams formed in their subconscious."
Dr. Hannibal finally offered professional advice.
"Perhaps. I'll give it a try." Ian raised an eyebrow. He had long considered the idea of being a copycat author, but he had never found the right opportunity.
"Very good. I look forward to our next meeting."
Dr. Hannibal smiled gently and escorted Ian to the front door. Outside the door, Ian's adoptive parents, Clark Kent and Lois Lane, had been waiting for quite some time.
"Ian, how do you feel?" Lois had the characteristic competence of a career woman, but she was not as aggressive when dealing with her family as she was in the workplace.
"It was okay?"
Ian accepted his mother's hug and glanced at his father, Clark Kent, standing behind her. The man who possessed the power of an "Earthly God" didn't look very imposing when wearing glasses; he looked rather refined. If he went to a gym, he would probably be treated as a newbie by the veterans there.
"The two of you, please come into my office to chat," Dr. Hannibal said, giving a look to the two adults as he saw the scene unfold, then pointed Ian toward the waiting area outside the office.
"It won't take too long. Little Mr. Kent can play with the small toys over there." Dr. Hannibal's suggestion made Ian couldn't help but roll his eyes internally—he wasn't really a small child; he was fourteen years old this life. Why would he like playing with building blocks?
Absolutely ridiculous!
Despite thinking this, Ian walked over. He looked back and saw Clark and Lois enter the office, after which Dr. Hannibal closed the office door.
"Is there a problem with Ian?" Seeing the doctor close the door, Clark couldn't help but show a slightly worried expression. He had clearly realized the situation might not be simple.
"There is a big problem."
Dr. Hannibal's response made Lois's heart leap to her throat.
"What kind of problem?"
She quickly asked.
Dr. Hannibal walked towards his desk where the notebook was. "Firstly, many of his words suggest that he believes the world in his dreams is real."
"And he also thinks that both his dreams and the world we live in are very dangerous..." The doctor was indeed professional, catching the details in Ian's words.
"Perhaps it's because both of our jobs are reporters, and we frequently write negative social news at home, which might be causing little Ian this distress?"
Lois couldn't help but feel self-reproach and guilt. Clark gently put his arm around his wife and looked at Dr. Hannibal with a slight look of concern.
"If we try to be careful and no longer let him come into contact with that kind of information, will his condition improve?" Clark's voice carried the characteristic magnetism of a mature man.
"This is something you must do, and it will certainly help somewhat. However, it still needs to be combined with drug therapy. He is already in the phase of transitioning from persecutory delusion towards schizophrenia." Dr. Hannibal took out a prescription, rapidly scribbling several medications he deemed appropriate.
He had clearly already sensed the young man's fear of him.
"You can try to mix the medicine into food to get him to take it, preventing him from resisting or incurring unnecessary psychological burden," Dr. Hannibal said, handing over the completed prescription form.
"Okay, Doctor, we'll do as you say."
Lois took the prescription slip and carefully placed it in her handbag. She and her husband exchanged glances, concealing their worry before smiling and leaving to pick up Ian.
"Time to head home, little man."
Clark patted Ian's shoulder.
Ian, who was busy building a Gundam model with the blocks, quickly stood up and dusted off his backside.
"What did the doctor say?"
Ian began trying to probe for information.
"The doctor thinks you shouldn't be so tense about studying all the time. You need to do something unrelated to school tonight." Lois, the famous reporter, was an excellent actor.
She straightened Ian's collar.
"Yes, maybe you can learn how to fix cars with me, just like your two brothers," Clark suggested, leading his wife and youngest son back out onto the street.
Metropolis was very prosperous.
There were tall buildings everywhere, and the streets were bustling with traffic. However, the people living here were a bit quick-tempered, perhaps because Metropolis was not far from the talented and resourceful Gotham.
"Honk! Honk! Honk!!"
A large truck passed by and furiously honked its horn several times.
Ian's body immediately stiffened quite a bit.
"What's wrong?"
Clark, whose hand had been resting on Ian's back, noticed Ian's reaction.
"Nothing, I was just startled." Even after fourteen years, Ian still had an emotional reaction to large trucks. The reason, of course, was the manner of his transmigration.
Anyone with experience transmigrating knows that the cause of transmigration is always unforgettable. Ian still remembered the last thing he heard before transmigrating: "I thought that was just a speed bump, officer! My whole family is working hard to live; you can't impound my truck! Please trust my insurance company!"
After such an encounter.
Ian was indeed left with a deep psychological scar.
"Honey, you really need to find something besides studying to do," Lois's eyes flashed with worry. Neither she nor Clark could fully understand some of Ian's strange reactions.
"Mm-hmm, the doctor gave me some suggestions."
Ian's answer allowed the couple to relax slightly.
Soon.
The three of them returned home.
It wasn't a huge house, but it was a standalone property with a small yard. Since it was still school time, his two older brothers, Jonathan and Jordan, hadn't returned yet.
"I still have an article to finish; I need to go back to the newspaper office. Can I rely on you for dinner tonight?" Lois, as a star reporter, was usually very busy with work.
In contrast, Clark had sacrificed a bit of his career for the family.
"Of course, no problem."
The mighty Superman kissed his wife goodbye and tied on a cooking apron. He had planned to ask Ian what he wanted for dinner and if he would like to help prepare it.
However.
As soon as he knocked and entered Ian's room, he saw Ian writing something.
"Didn't you promise us you wouldn't push yourself so hard with studying?" Clark frowned, his voice taking on a slightly serious tone.
"No, Dad, I'm not studying. I'm following the doctor's advice and engaging in some literary creation," Ian turned to look at Clark behind him.
He actively moved his body, clearing the space in front of his desk.
"Oh?"
Curious, Clark leaned in.
He was initially planning to offer a few words of praise, but when his eyes landed on Ian's so-called "literary work," the expression on his face instantly froze.
The Tyrannical Superman Falls for Me
What a goddamn title for a work!
"Next, I plan to write The Tyrannical Batman Falls for Me and The Tyrannical Aquaman Falls for Me. I feel like my Tyrannical Trilogy is sure to become a classic of the era and help me achieve financial freedom." Ian felt he was still being very cautious, choosing an opening that, to some extent, skirted the issue of character copyright disputes.
"???"
Clark's face was full of question marks. He had never told his three children the fact that he was Superman, so he should have been happy that his child spontaneously liked Superman. However, after seeing Ian's title, his gut told him this was definitely not a proper piece of work.
"Why don't you try drawing? Comics are also developing well these days," Clark suggested, his expression strange and his face a picture of embarrassment.
"Uh..."
Ian considered this for a moment.
"Alright then!"
The young man enthusiastically spread out his drawing paper.
Unfortunately.
He only managed to write the title of the drawing. Before he could even start mixing the pigments and dipping his brush, Clark immediately clapped his hands and pressed down on the drawing paper spread on the desk with a trembling hand.
The father's tone was even slightly panicked.
"Never mind, never mind, Ian. I think you should stick to writing to release your pressure."
Clark's continuous change in attitude was understandable. Mainly, he really didn't want to know what The Tyrannical Superman Gets On Top of Me meant. That was even more stimulating to his super heart than the previous The Tyrannical Superman Falls for Me.