On the edge of the bustling city of Newville, where cloud-tickling skyscrapers met wildflower meadows, Superman was not only a hero but a secret seeker of strange cures. People knew him for his strength and kindness, but even the strongest can have a weakness. Lately, Superman had been troubled by a sharp, throbbing pain in his jaw—a sensation so fierce it nearly rivaled his battles against the mightiest villains. It was a teething pain, rare and peculiar, that came from a new set of super-molars growing in, a process that seemed to mock his powers. Every night, as he soared through the star-splashed sky, Superman would press his hand to his face and wince. He had tried every remedy in the dusty, leather-bound books of the Fortress of Solitude: herbal teas brewed from Kryptonian flowers, ice crystals harvested from the farthest mountain, and even a lullaby sung by the aurora itself. But ...

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