Meanwhile, at Smallville School.
Peter went to the hardware store to buy the nails needed to repair the house, and on the way, he stopped by the school to deal with Mark's matter.
He walked across the green lawn behind the school, passing an art class.
The surrounding students sat in a semicircle, and a female teacher in a batik dress was giving a lecture.
Peter's super hearing could pick up the 'rustling' sound of all the students sketching fallen leaves with their paintbrushes.
After glancing at the students, he walked straight towards Martha McConner's office.
"Mr. Patrick?"
Martha was somewhat surprised to see Peter at school.
After all, she only ever saw Peter during parent-teacher conferences.
"Hello, Teacher McConner."
Peter greeted her, "I hope I'm not disturbing you."
"No, of course not."
Martha stood up a little excitedly, but quickly hid her emotions, "I heard about the plane incident. Thank goodness nothing happened to you."
"Thank you."
Peter thanked her. After a few pleasantries, he stated his purpose—to address the previous complaints about Mark.
Due to Mark's tendency to get into trouble, he had been complained about by many teachers and parents before.
"No problem."
Martha nodded, indicating that with her there, things would be resolved quickly.
With the help of the enthusiastic female teacher, Peter quickly finished dealing with Mark's matter.
He looked up at her dark circles and casually asked, "Teacher Martha, haven't you been resting well lately?"
When Peter asked, Martha paused for a moment before replying, "Maybe… maybe I've been a bit tired lately."
Ten minutes later.
Accompanied by Teacher Martha, Peter walked out of the school.
As the two walked past a bench, the female teacher who had been teaching art earlier was sitting there and stood up to greet them.
The woman, wearing a batik dress, had a sweet face and a slender figure.
As she saw Peter and Martha gradually approaching, she extended a hand.
"Hi, Martha."
"Katy?"
The art teacher named Katy smiled slightly at Martha, "I was waiting for you, and this is..."
She looked at Peter, "Is he your friend, Martha?"
Martha McConner glanced at Peter and said guiltily, "Yes."
Although Peter was John's parent, he was also half a friend to her. After all, he had rescued her from the gang, so saying that shouldn't be a problem.
"We're so close, Martha, you should introduce us."
With that, the woman extended her hand and introduced herself to Peter, "I am Katy Vizniusky, and I'm an art teacher here."
Peter looked at Martha, who smiled awkwardly, "She's my friend."
In reality, she wasn't very familiar with this new art teacher.
The other person was mysterious, and it was rumored that she had unclear relationships with many men, which always made her keep her distance.
"Peter Patrick."
Peter extended his hand to her.
The woman in front of him gave him an unsettling feeling.
Especially her eyes, which emitted a gaze that made him uncomfortable.
"I've heard of you, Mr. Patrick. You're a celebrity in town now. A passenger plane made an emergency landing in your farmland."
Katy Vizniusky blinked her curious eyes, "Mr. Patrick, would you mind telling me about the thrilling scene that happened then?"
"Actually..."
Peter shook his head, "I wasn't there at the time, so I don't know the exact details of what happened."
He nodded slightly to Martha beside him, "I have other things to do, so I must excuse myself."
After greeting the two, he turned and left.
Katy Vizniusky watched Peter's retreating figure with interest, her eyes gleaming slightly.
Night, Patrick Farm.
The farm's repair work had been going on all day, and the living room had barely recovered to about seventy to eighty percent of its former state.
As Peter entered the living room, Mark was engrossed in watching television.
Upon hearing Peter's footsteps, he quickly changed the channel with the remote control.
Not noticing Mark's action, Peter told him, "Go upstairs and call Star-Lord down, it's time for dinner."
"That..."
Mark stood up, his expression somewhat hesitant as he said, "Dad, Star-Lord isn't doing too well."
"What? Did you two fight?"
"No, he just doesn't have much of an appetite. I don't think he'll have an appetite for dinner."
Mark recounted what happened at the orphanage during the day.
"You mean, you saw a deceased elderly woman, her body on the bed, completely shriveled? Overnight?"
"That's right, Dad. Star-Lord saw something like that for the first time, so he couldn't quite accept it."
Peter looked at Mark with suspicion, "Why didn't you stop him? You should know your brother is too young to see such things."
He strongly suspected Mark did it on purpose.
After all, that brat had always been at odds with Star-Lord.
Although the two had somewhat reconciled after the Clark incident, he didn't believe they could be as good as new.
"I tried, but his curiosity was too strong."
Mark indicated it wasn't his fault.
"Alright, you go wash your hands first, I'll go upstairs and call him."
At the same time, Star-Lord upstairs was experiencing a nightmare.
In the dream room, Star-Lord suddenly saw a shadow flash before his eyes, scaring him into sitting up immediately.
The next instant, the shadow flickered again before his eyes, then ran into the corner, and then scurried into the bathroom, accompanied by a rustling sound.
Star-Lord, unaware he was dreaming, fumbled in the dark to get out of bed and picked up the butterfly knife by his bedside.
He had bought it for six dollars at a flea market near the Smallville Talon.
Creeping stealthily on the carpet, Star-Lord secretly followed the shadow into the bathroom.
At the bathroom door, he reached out and fumbled on the wall a few times, finding the light switch.
"Click!"
Blinding light instantly poured down, illuminating the entire bathroom.
As his vision focused, Star-Lord saw a red Mylar balloon in the corner of the bathroom, floating up and down against the wall.
Looking closely, there was a picture of a cake on the balloon, and the flames of the candles on the cake formed a line of text: Happy Birthday, Star-Lord.
Just as he walked towards the balloon, he suddenly saw the cake picture on it change.
What should have been a cake picture had surprisingly become a skull symbol. Inside the wide-open mouth of the skull, there were two rows of jagged teeth, and a speech bubble emerged from between the teeth, with the words: Happy Death Day, Star-Lord.
With a "whoosh!" he woke up from the dream.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Star-Lord looked around and gradually realized he had been dreaming.
"Knock! Knock! Knock!"
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.
"Are you asleep, Star-Lord?"
"Dad."
Star-Lord was lying on the bed. When he saw Peter coming, he immediately got up.
"What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"
Peter rubbed Star-Lord's head with his hand.
Feeling the warmth and reassurance of the palm, Star-Lord let out a long sigh, "I'm fine, Dad."
Biting his lower lip, he hesitated for a moment and asked Peter, "Dad, can I ask you a question?"
"Of course."
Peter said, looking into Star-Lord's eyes.
"Will you leave me?"
"No, of course not. Why do you ask?"
"Today I saw a deceased person at the orphanage..."
As he spoke, Star-Lord couldn't help but lower his head.
"Mm-hmm, that's Dad's fault."
Peter voluntarily admitted his mistake.
When he sent the two to volunteer at the orphanage, he indeed hadn't considered such an unexpected situation.
Star-Lord seeing such an impactful scene at such a young age might leave him with psychological trauma.
It seems I need to counsel him well, or perhaps get a psychologist?
If Martian Manhunter were in Metropolis, he could certainly come over and play the role of a psychologist.
"No, Dad, it's not your fault. Actually, I'm not afraid of that scene of Death. I'm just afraid of losing you."
Star-Lord looked at him, saying dejectedly, "I often dream, Dad. Just now, I even dreamed of my birthday."
"Your birthday? Are you looking forward to your birthday?"
"No, Dad, it was a very bad birthday."
Star-Lord began to describe his dream.
Under Peter's shocked gaze, he continued, "Dad, besides that, I often have other dreams, and that feeling is very bad."
"In the dream, I struggled with the sheets, trying to get out of bed, to get off the bed, but I was tightly wrapped by the quilt. There were iron bars welded to the bed frame that I couldn't climb over, and all around me, there seemed to be an invisible wall, pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe freely!"
Star-Lord described his dream feelings to Peter.
"I feel like I'm trapped in a box, and the air is getting scarcer and scarcer... I always dream of Death. I dream of a woman who is my mother. She is very frail, with not much flesh left on her face. She holds my hand and says goodbye to me."
At this point, Star-Lord's eyes were already brimming with tears.
"So... Dad, you won't leave me, right?"
"No, of course not."
Peter patted Star-Lord's shoulder, holding him in his arms and comforting him softly.
Star-Lord's dreams, like Mark's, were fragments of his past life memories.
The original Star-Lord came from a single-parent family, and his mother's body gradually wasted away due to cancer.
Watching his mother slowly walk towards the God of Death day by day, while he was powerless, filled the young Star-Lord's heart with pain and fear of Death.
Until the day his mother passed away, he ran away from home because he couldn't accept the fact.
As a result, he unluckily encountered aliens and was abducted.
Recalling the information he remembered from his past life, Peter held Star-Lord in his arms and comforted him, "Dad won't leave you. Even Death cannot separate us, I swear to you."
"Then you can't miss any of my birthdays, Dad. Can you do that?"
Star-Lord made his request.
He hoped to have his father by his side for every birthday he celebrated, so he would never feel the approach of Death.
"Why can't I miss any birthday?"
"Because... I will definitely die before Dad."
Chapter 3 might be a bit late. Something came up today. Everyone can rest early. Sorry.