SUP Chapter 2: Making Superman Feel Fear!

The office was silent for a long time but Dr. Hannibal observed every change in Ian’s expressions.

"You’re very guarded around me, which is normal since this is our first meeting. It’ll take time to build trust."

"Let’s stop here for today. I need time to study your case," Dr. Hannibal said calmly to the boy.

"Is my condition unusual?"

Ian couldn’t help but ask.

"No, it’s just psychological stress, not a mental illness. Don’t burden yourself too much." Dr. Hannibal set down his notebook and pen, stood up, and adjusted his clothes.

"I recommend trying writing. Painting is also a good option. Expressing your dreams can reduce their impact."

"Being haunted by nightmares might be a gift. It could help you become a great creator. Many famous writers’ classics stem from dreams formed in the subconscious."

Dr. Hannibal offered professional advice.

"Maybe. I’ll give it a try." Ian raised an eyebrow. He’d long considered becoming a "literary copycat," but hadn’t found the right opportunity.

"Great. I look forward to our next meeting."

Dr. Hannibal smiled warmly, escorting Ian to the door. Outside, Ian’s adoptive parents, Clark Kent and Lois Lane, had been waiting for a while.

"Ian, how do you feel?" Lois, with her sharp, professional demeanor, softened when facing family.

"Okay, I guess?"

Ian accepted his mother’s hug, glancing at his father behind her. Clark Kent, the man with the power of a "god among men," looked unremarkable in glasses, not particularly robust. In a gym, he’d probably be mistaken for a fitness newbie by the regulars.

"Both of you, please come into my office to talk." Dr. Hannibal gestured to the adults and pointed Ian toward the waiting area.

"It won’t take long. Mr. Kent can play with some toys over there." Dr. Hannibal’s suggestion made Ian roll his eyes inwardly. He wasn’t a real kid. At fourteen, why would he care for building blocks?

Ridiculous!

Despite his thoughts, Ian walked over. He glanced back as Clark and Lois entered the office, and Dr. Hannibal closed the door.

"Is something wrong with Ian?" Clark’s face showed slight worry as he watched the door close, sensing the situation might not be simple.

"It’s serious."

Dr. Hannibal’s response made Lois’s heart leap to her throat.

"What kind of problem?"

She pressed urgently.

Dr. Hannibal walked to his desk, where his notebook lay. "First, his words suggest he believes there’s a real world in his dreams."

"And he feels both his dreams and our world are extremely dangerous." The doctor’s professionalism shone, catching details in Ian’s speech.

"Maybe because we’re journalists, often writing about negative news at home, it’s caused Ian’s unease?" Lois felt a pang of guilt. Clark gently put an arm around his wife, looking at Dr. Hannibal with concern.

"If we’re careful not to expose him to that information, will his condition improve?" Clark’s voice carried the mature magnetism of a grown man.

"That’s something you must do, and it will help. But it needs to be paired with medication. He’s in a stage transitioning from persecutory delusions to schizophrenia." Dr. Hannibal pulled out a prescription pad, quickly writing down several medications he deemed suitable.

He had clearly noticed the boy’s fear of him.

"You can mix them into food to avoid resistance or unnecessary psychological burden." Dr. Hannibal handed over the prescription.

"Alright, we’ll follow your advice."

Lois took the prescription, carefully placing it in her purse. She and Clark exchanged a glance, masking their worry with smiles as they went to fetch Ian.

"Time to go, little guy."

Clark patted Ian’s shoulder.

Ian, who was building a Gundam with blocks, stood up and brushed off his pants.

"What did the doctor say?"

Ian tried to probe.

"The doctor thinks you shouldn’t always stress about studying. Tonight, do something unrelated to schoolwork." Lois’s acting, honed as a seasoned journalist, was impeccable.

She adjusted Ian’s collar.

"Yeah, maybe you can learn car repair with me, like your brothers." Clark offered a suggestion as he led his wife and youngest son back onto the street.

Metropolis was bustling.

Skyscrapers loomed, traffic flowed endlessly, but the people here were a bit impatient, perhaps because Metropolis wasn’t far from the vibrant Gotham.

"Beep beep beep!!"

A large truck passed, blaring its horn.

Ian’s body stiffened noticeably.

"What’s wrong?"

Clark, his hand on Ian’s back, noticed the reaction.

"Nothing, just startled." Even after fourteen years, Ian still had a stress response to trucks, naturally due to how he transmigrated. Those with transmigration experience know the cause is unforgettable. Ian still remembered the last words he heard before crossing over: "I thought it was just a speed bump, officer. My whole family’s fighting to live. You can’t impound my car. Please trust my insurance company!"

That experience left a deep psychological scar.

"Dear, you really need to do something besides studying." A trace of worry flashed in Lois’s eyes. Neither she nor Clark fully understood Ian’s odd reactions.

"Yeah, the doctor gave me some advice."

Ian’s response slightly eased the couple’s tension.

Soon, the three returned home.

It wasn’t a large house, but it was a standalone villa. Since it was still school hours, Ian’s older brothers, Jonathan and Jordan, weren’t back yet.

"I have a report to finish at the newspaper. Can you handle dinner tonight?" Lois, a top journalist, had a demanding job.

Clark, in contrast, had sacrificed some of his career for family.

"Of course."

The mighty Superman kissed his wife goodbye and tied on a cooking apron. He planned to ask Ian what he wanted for dinner and if he’d like to help cook.

However, upon knocking and entering Ian’s room, he saw Ian writing.

"Didn’t you promise us you wouldn’t study so hard?" Clark frowned, his voice taking on a slightly stern tone.

"No, Dad, I’m not studying. I’m following the doctor’s advice, doing some literary creation." Ian turned to Clark, shifting his body to reveal the desk.

"Oh?"

Curious, Clark leaned in.

He was about to offer praise, but when his eyes fell on Ian’s so-called “literary work,” his expression froze.

The Overbearing Superman Loves Me

What a bizarre title!

"I’m also planning to write The Overbearing Batman Loves Me and The Overbearing Aquaman Loves Me. I think my overbearing trilogy will become a classic, making me financially free." Ian felt he was cautious, choosing a start that could somewhat avoid character copyright issues.

"???"

Clark’s face was covered in question marks. He hadn’t told his three kids he was Superman, so he should’ve been pleased they liked the hero. But seeing Ian’s title, his instincts screamed this wasn’t a serious work.

"Maybe try painting instead? Comics are doing well these days." Clark, with a strange expression, suggested with some theatrical flair.

"Uh…"

Ian thought for a moment.

"Sure!"

The boy eagerly spread out drawing paper.

Unfortunately, before he could mix paints or start drawing, Clark clapped his hands, trembling as he pressed down on the paper.

"Forget it, Ian. Stick to writing to relieve stress."

Clark’s change of heart wasn’t surprising. He really didn’t want to know what The Overbearing Superman Got Me meant. It was even more jarring to his super heart than The Overbearing Superman Loves Me.

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