The emblem on his chest was that of the House of El. He knew this and wore it because of that, but a certain reporter at the Planethad to mess it up and, without enough time to come up with a decent byline, misconstrued his name as being Superman. Maybe the cape had helped to spawn the title.
True, it saved him the trouble of having to make up an alter ego, but Clark Kent, (or Kal-El, or Smallville, or Superman) was not super in the least.
He was from a modest farm in Kansas, where rural really was rural. He was a farm boy at heart (as Lois would never let him forget) and still stuttered like a maniac when he was nervous. He had all the politeness of a down home country boy, and could make a pretty good pie if the situation called for it.
But he was also a defender of his adopted planet, an alien without a true home, and a victim of circumstance. He wished that he was something better than what he was, something other than some extraterrestrial posing as a country boy posing as a reporter with powers too great for anyone to have.
Kal-El (Clark Kent, Superman) opened his eyes, seeing the metallic gleam of the Watchtower in his peripheral vision. He glanced down at Earth, watching the delicate blue sphere as it orbited the yellow sun. Everyone that he cared about was down there: Ma, Pa, Kara, Lois, Lana, Jimmy, Bruce, Diana. . .all people that he could potential destroy if he ever forgot what a fine line he was treading.
How many times had Kal (Clark, Supes) wanted to crush Luthor's head after he'd murdered innocent people? Too many to count. How many times had he almost forgotten his own strength while shaking someone's hand? More than he'd like to admit.
With a deep sigh Kal-El of Krypton (Clark Johnathan Kent, Smallville, the Man of Steel, Superman) began his descent back down to the planet (not his, never really his). Maybe the cape was kind of silly.