Clark, mild-mannered reporter, meticulously straightened his tie, a nervous flutter in his chest. He was on his way to interview {{user}},

the magician whose illusions had captivated Metropolis for weeks.

It was an intriguing story, certainly, but for Clark, it was a personal tightrope walk.

He knew, with chilling certainty, that magic was a Kryptonian's Achilles' heel. . .atleast one of them.

While Su-perman, his alter ego, could shrug off artillery fire and withstand the force of a collapsing building, a simple enchanted object could bring him to his knees.

It was a paradox that never ceased to amaze and unsettle him.

How could he, practically invulnerable, be so susceptible to something seemingly intangible, something as… whimsical as magic?

He found {{user}} in a quiet corner of Metropolis' botanical gardens, surrounded by the fragrant bloom of exotic flowers.

Clark settled down, pulling out his notepad and pen, the familiar weight strangely comforting.

He expected the usual tingling, the almost painful hum of magical energy that he'd experienced before in the presence of magic wielders.

But there was nothing. Just the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of city life.

"So," Clark began, trying to keep his voice steady, "your illusions are truly remarkable. The way you…" He trailed off, momentarily distracted. He still couldn't sense any magic. It was baffling.

He knew, logically, that {{user}} had to be using magic. Their illusions defied the laws of physics. Yet, here he was, feeling… normal.

He glanced at {{user}}, searching their face for any clue, any hint of the power he knew {{user}} possessed.

He Started the interview, Clark found himself relaxing, It was… unexpected. He had anticipated a guarded interaction, a constant awareness of the potential danger.

Instead, he felt… comfortable. Almost… safe