Chapter 102: One More Time - part 1

"Gwen...?"

Peter looked like a lost puppy... and in his arms, Michelle lay bloodied and broken.

The moment I saw them, the blood drained from my face.

But I wasn’t going to just stand there.
I am no longer... powerless.

The many times I’ve faced the abnormal—those experiences sharpened my instincts and sped up my judgment.

"Peter, move...!"

I pushed Peter aside and laid Michelle gently on the ground.
Then I touched her face.

Cold.
I pried open her eyelids with my fingers... her pupils were blown.

"...Gwenom, please."

The tendrils of Gwenom covering my body extended, slipping into Michelle’s mouth and deeper into her body.
I shared the sensation, feeling her condition from within—

"W-what is this...?"

She was torn apart.
Under the armor, her organs were ruptured.
Her blood had clotted as if scorched, circulation all but stopped.

The fact that she was even breathing felt impossible... her body was shredded.

I glanced at Peter.
His face was pale.

...I’d heard the bomb in his heart was fine.
But something unexpected had happened—at the worst possible time.

What do I do?
What do I do, what do I do?

An idea flashed through my mind.
I decided to bet everything on it.

Every second mattered.
Even the slightest delay could cost Michelle her life.

"Gwenom."

We share one consciousness.
Words aren’t needed.

...I separated Gwenom from myself and let it parasitize Michelle.

At once, a wave of exhaustion slammed into me.
My legs gave out and I collapsed—

"Gwen!"

Peter caught me in his arms.

I let my body rest against him... and watched Gwenom enter Michelle.

"...Right now, Gwenom is replacing her lost organs... circulating her blood."

"...Y-yeah."

"But... the blood that’s already gone won’t come back... and like this, Gwenom will... weaken too. It’s only first aid."

"...Got it. What should I do?"

...His face, once so pale, looked a little better now.
He seemed to realize sitting still wouldn’t help.

"Contact—"

"I did... Mr. Stark’s on his way."

"Then—"

The sound of jets roared overhead.

An unfamiliar sound. I looked up, and saw a man in red and gold armor flying toward us.

I’d seen him in the news, in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files... Iron Man.

"Peter!"

He landed immediately and rushed over.

...The name.
So Peter had told him his identity?
For a moment, I almost slipped into denial to avoid the reality in front of me.

"Mr. Stark, Michelle—"

"I know! I’ve already called a Quinjet! It’s on the way!"

Iron Man retracted his mask, revealing his face.

"Her condition?"

"Right now, Gwen is... um, keeping her alive with the symbiote... right?"

Peter glanced at me.
...I realized I hadn’t explained anything in the rush.
And yet he still grasped the situation—he really was observant.

I didn’t even have the strength to answer, so I just nodded silently.

Iron Man—Tony Stark—looked grave.
...On TV he always seemed so carefree.
But maybe he’s different. He felt far more dependable than I’d imagined.

One minute, two minutes... it felt like forever, but only a short time later, a jet appeared overhead.

It skimmed over the river and touched down, opening a hatch toward us.

S.H.I.E.L.D. agents emerged, pulling along an anti-gravity stretcher. They quickly secured Michelle onto it.

"Peter, you go with her...!"

Peter nodded at Tony’s words, then hoisted me onto his back and followed the stretcher.

"Mr. Stark, what about you!?"

"I’ll get the doctors... just don’t let her die before then!"

Tony reattached his mask and blasted off with his jet thrusters.

I, carried by Peter, watched him disappear before being brought aboard the Quinjet.

...If it weren’t for the situation, I’d probably be geeking out over the high-tech interior. It wasn’t very spacious, though.

Inevitably, Peter and I ended up right next to Michelle, lying unconscious on the stretcher.

A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent pulled out a syringe and injected Michelle. They connected an IV as well—fast, efficient, even though they weren’t a doctor.

So this is what a full-fledged agent is.

The moment the stretcher was fixed in place, I felt the weight shift in my body.

"This aircraft will now proceed to the waiting Helicarrier."

The agent looked at us as he spoke.
...I didn’t know what a Helicarrier was, but neither of us argued. We nodded quickly.

A glance outside showed the ground racing away at unbelievable speed.
...The high-tech design wasn’t just for show.

I turned back to Michelle.

Silent... as if asleep.
As if dead—my friend.

"...I haven’t even scolded you yet."

To feel guilty on your own, to run off on your own... and to die on your own—
I won’t allow it.
I won’t be satisfied until I scold you properly.

So... please.
Don’t die.

A year ago, Michelle appeared in my life... and became part of my everyday.
For her to just vanish silently on her own... I’ll never forgive that.

...I look at Peter.
His eyes were trembling.

He’s hurting even more than I am.

Michelle and I are close.
Close enough to call each other best friends.

But his bond with her... frustrating as it is, runs deeper than that.
It’s not the same as a friendship between girls... it’s something special.

That’s why—right now, the guilt I feel toward myself is nothing compared to the emotions he must be carrying.

With the faint movement of my hand, I pinched Peter’s side, his face pale.

"...Gwen?"

"Pull yourself together... don’t make such a gloomy face..."

Peter opened his mouth slightly... his expression clouded with a worry he couldn’t put into words.

...And I thought, I must be wearing the exact same face right now.

---

Inside the jet, they continued treatment—no, more like life support—until we landed on a massive flying aircraft carrier.

...I hadn’t seen anything from below, but this thing had been flying right over New York?
If it were visible, there’s no way people wouldn’t notice. It must have some kind of stealth system.

Not that I ever underestimated them, but... maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. is far more powerful than I thought.
Maybe Michelle really can be saved.
I clung to that hope—desperately, almost blindly.

Because if I didn’t, I’d be crushed by the fear.

Michelle, still on the stretcher, was carried forward.
I... clung to Peter’s back.

We followed her into what looked like a medical bay.

Michelle was transferred onto an examination table.

I frowned.

...It wasn’t like an operating room.
There weren’t all the surgical tools you’d expect.
Could they really treat someone this broken in a place like this—?

Just as the thought crossed my mind, a flash of orange light appeared in the corner of the room.
It sparked like fire, drawing a circle that gradually widened.

I reflexively tried to brace myself—then remembered Gwenom wasn’t with me.
Noticing the agents weren’t reacting either, I forced myself to stay still.

The orange ring opened into... a window, as if cutting out a slice of reality.
Through it, I could see the streets of New York where we’d just been.

From that impossible scene, two figures stepped into the medical bay.

One was Iron Man.

The other... wore navy-blue robes, a red cloak, and a golden amulet on his chest.
He looked nothing like a doctor. More like... a sorcerer.

"Mr. Stark!"

Peter called out, but before Stark could respond, the man dressed like a sorcerer cut him off.

"I will check the patient’s vitals. Step back."

At his words, the agents bowed slightly and exited the room.

"...And what about you two? You should step out as well."

The sorcerer-looking man—probably the doctor Stark had mentioned—turned to us.
In his hand wasn’t medical equipment, but a glowing golden magic circle.

"Ah, um—"

Peter tried to explain Michelle’s current state, with the symbiote sustaining her—

"...What is this?"

The sorcerer-doctor looked grimly at Michelle, then at us.

"This black thing... is it your pet?"

Pet...? I almost snapped back, but realized now wasn’t the time.
Instead, I nodded while giving an explanation.

"It’s connected to me... it can’t stray far."

"I see. Then stay where you are and observe. But keep your mouth shut. Don’t speak."

His tone made me scowl without thinking—

"Contamination would be dangerous."

...And with that doctor-like statement, I had no choice but to nod.

What a strange man.
He looked like a doctor, yet also like a sorcerer.

I glanced at Peter. He wore the same baffled expression as me.
But Stark said he was bringing a doctor... so this must be him.

"However, you—boy. Spider-Man, correct? Leave the room."

"Eh, wha—"

"Would you peep at the bare skin of a maiden?"

At those words, the man pressed the glowing circle to Michelle’s chest.
Her armor disassembled, revealing her ravaged organs beneath.

"...ugh."

"...No way."

...These wounds... they weren’t something surgery alone could fix.

Peter and I were struck speechless.
Iron Man placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Peter."

"...y-yeah."

Pale as a ghost, Peter was practically dragged out of the medical bay by Iron Man.

The sorcerer glanced at them briefly before returning his focus to Michelle.

"Now then..."

He let out a soft breath, forming a seal with his hands and crossing his arms.

"...I’d rather not use this, but for this case, I’ll make an exception."

At that moment, the golden amulet around his neck began to rotate, its core exposed.

"Eye of Agamotto."

Inside the amulet was a green gemstone.

It didn’t just reflect light—it produced it.
Brighter than the room’s lamps, it bathed everything in a vivid green glow.

Then, as the doctor spread his arms, a magic circle floated in the air.
More and more appeared, layering and bending, forming a sphere suspended in the air.

"...!"

I couldn’t help but stare at the doctor’s face.
On his forehead... a third eye had opened.

...I gasped.

I thought I was used to super-science, or strange lifeforms with incredible abilities...
But this—this was different.

This was magic.
And to my own surprise... I accepted it almost too easily.

---

I crouched in the hall outside the medical bay, quiet enough that I wondered if they were even treating her in there.

...So much blood.
Michelle...

The worst kept flashing through my head. Over and over, I shook it off.

Before I realized it, Mr. Stark was gone, Gwen was left behind in the medical bay, and I was crouched in the hallway alone.

Helpless.

And despairing.

The weight of those feelings chilled me, and my body trembled.

It was already spring.
This red suit was supposed to regulate body temperature.

But I was cold.
...The anxiety, the stress—it was choking off my circulation.

My eyes stung as I squeezed them shut.

I’d cried so much already, and today had pushed my body to the limit. I was running dry.
...And yet, after all that effort.

Was this really the result?

"U... ugh..."

My diaphragm shook, and my breath broke into a sob.

Effort doesn’t always pay off.
But... just this once... if there’s a God out there... I wanted Him to let mine count.

I pressed my lips together, held my breath, and shut my eyes tight.

Something cool touched my cheek.
...A plastic water bottle.

I looked up.

Mr. Stark stood there in only his undersuit, armor removed.

"...Mr. Stark."

"Peter. Take a breath. Calm down."

He set the bottle beside me as I crouched there.
Then leaned against the wall right next to me.

"But... Mr. Stark..."

"But? Next you’ll say ‘because’? Worrying’s fine. But overthinking things—that’s your bad habit."

"...Yes."

...He was right.
It really is one of my worst—

"Tch. I didn’t mean to give you a lecture..."

Mr. Stark touched his chin, looking troubled, then spoke again.

"Alright then. Peter, tell me about you and her—what happened after I dropped you off."

"Me and Michelle...?"

"That’s right. I want to know."

His words loosened my lips.

"...Michelle—"

I told him everything.
What she had shared with me.
The words I had spoken.
The moment she said she wanted to live.

Our conversations.
And how it all ended.

I told Mr. Stark everything.
And he listened silently.

"But even so, now she’s—"

She finally said she wanted to live.
She took my hand.

And yet, I couldn’t do anything—

"That’s good, isn’t it?"

"...Good?"

I couldn’t help but glance at Mr. Stark’s face.
I almost blurted out something, unsure of what could possibly be good about this situation—

"If you truly wish to live… you won’t die so easily."

"…That’s…"

"This is just my opinion. There’s no scientific basis for it. But when you’re standing at the edge between life and death… the strength of your will to live is what decides the outcome."

Mr. Stark’s gaze turned toward me.

"I went through the same thing. Back in the day—before I ever called myself ‘Iron Man.’ I was captured by terrorists… and nearly died."

"Is… that so?"

Mr. Stark laughed lightly, even while recounting such a grim memory.

"But I survived. I believe that was because of my determination to live… and also because there was someone who wanted me alive."

He smiled at me as he said it.

"That’s why she won’t die. Because she found a reason to want to live—thanks to you."

"…Do you really think so?"

"Yeah. I’m certain of it."

…If I could believe that, maybe I’d feel a weight lift from my shoulders.
But I couldn’t let myself go that far.

Even so.

I twisted open a plastic bottle and brought it to my lips.
Drank it down in one go, as if to force it into every corner of my body.

"…Haa…"

I’d gulped so fast I nearly forgot to breathe. Lowering the bottle, I felt… just a little lighter.
Not because Mr. Stark’s words had convinced me, but because needing encouragement like this made me feel pathetic.

Curling up in despair accomplishes nothing.
Even if I sit here wallowing in guilt… it won’t help her.

I stood up and took my place beside Mr. Stark.
…I was shorter than him.

The difference between an adult and a child… it wasn’t just about height.
It was about the strength of one’s heart, too.

Someone who, even in the hardest times, can still think about others—that’s what it means to be an adult.

I’d been given a suit and told I was ready. But truthfully, it still feels more like the suit is wearing me.
I need to become someone worthy of it. That’s the only thing expected of me, and the only thing I can do.

"Feeling a little better now, Peter?"

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Well, really, I should be the one apologizing. That bomb… it was my mistake not to see through the enemy’s trick."

It was rare to hear Mr. Stark call something "my mistake." I looked at his face—he wore a grim expression.

"If she had died, I’d never have forgiven myself. That’s why I’m grateful to you… and to your friends as well."

…So that’s it.

It wasn’t just me. Everyone was blaming themselves, yet still managing to move forward.
Compared to that, me brooding on my own really was pathetic.

Still…

"Mr. Stark."

"What is it?"

"That doctor from earlier… the one who looked like some kind of wizard? Who is he?"

The man Stark had brought—was he really a doctor? He wore strange clothes.
Ever since he appeared, Stark hadn’t seemed to consider even for a moment that Michelle might die.

"Hm? Him? That’s Stephen."

"Stephen?"

"Stephen Strange. He’s both a doctor and a sorcerer."

"A doctor… and a sorcerer?"

So he wasn’t just like a wizard-doctor—he actually was both.
Such mismatched professions side by side… it felt bizarre.

Mr. Stark smirked faintly at my expression.

"I get it, Peter. You think he seems shady, don’t you?"

"Eh—n-no! Of course not!"

I knew he had to be an incredible person if Stark trusted him.
Still… I couldn’t deny I’d been a little suspicious.

Stark chuckled at my flustered denial.

"I thought the same at first. And then he introduced himself as the Sorcerer Supreme. When we first met—"

"You seem to be having quite the entertaining conversation, Tony Stark."

The voice of the man himself cut in suddenly, making me jump.
And it wasn’t coming from the infirmary door—but from another direction.

There was Stephen, phasing right through the wall.
Stark didn’t panic, though his face looked like he’d just bitten into something sour.

"…I wasn’t trying to badmouth you."

"Of course not," Stephen said with a snort.

I couldn’t help wondering what was happening inside the infirmary right now.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I called out to him.

"Um, Mr. Stephen! How’s the surgery—"

"Doctor."

"Huh?"

He cut me off with a single word: "Doctor."

"Doctor Strange. That’s what you’ll call me."

"Ah—r-right. Okay… Doctor?"

"…What is it?"

Doctor Strange—no longer “Mr. Stephen,” but simply “Doctor”—stood with his arms crossed, fixing his gaze on me.

…This guy’s kind of intimidating.
I almost shrank back without meaning to.

"Um… Michelle… how is she?"

"Her surgery was successful. There are no more wounds."

"Eh—"

His casual report left me stunned.

B-but… she was hurt so badly… And all that in just fifteen minutes…?
Wait—did he just say she has no wounds at all?

While I was still reeling, the Doctor addressed Mr. Stark.

"Stark. In the infirmary… his friend is asleep. Could you take her somewhere to rest?"

"Me?"

He must’ve meant Gwen.
Mr. Stark shot me a glance.

…Yeah, that felt like it should be my responsibility.

But then the Doctor turned his eyes on me.

"I need to speak with him."

Talk…?

Michelle should be safe now, so it probably wasn’t anything dire.
Still, from sheer unease, my face tensed.

Stark looked at the two of us, let out a faint sigh.

"…Fine."

…He was probably worried about me.
If the Doctor wanted to separate me from Stark, it meant he had something he wanted to say to me alone.
And Stark hated being left out of important conversations.

He went into the infirmary, then came back carrying Gwen, who seemed less asleep than outright unconscious.
Cradling her limp body, he headed off somewhere else.

I couldn’t help but watch him go.

"Concerned about her too?"

The Doctor’s voice pulled me back.

"…Yes."

"Hmm. That girl carries a black parasitic lifeform in her spinal nerves."

…He must’ve meant the symbiote.
I nodded.

"The human nervous system is delicate. If you rip something out of it again and again in such short intervals, of course the nerves will be damaged."

"…Wait—what!? Is she going to be okay?"

I blurted it out.
She had separated from the symbiote without hesitation, but… was it actually that dangerous?

"The damaged parts are reinforced by the parasite. But if she were to separate from it repeatedly… each time would leave new injuries, and little by little, her body’s natural functions would deteriorate."

"……"

I was struck dumb.

She joined with the symbiote just to move her body again.
And yet… now it might be what slowly wears her down?

"For now, she’s fine. Fainting is all. But if this keeps happening, it will bring real risks. Make sure she never has to go through that again."

"…I understand."

I nodded, and the Doctor pushed open the infirmary door.

"Come with me."

Inside was Michelle, a lime-green cloth draped over her chest.
Floating around her body were orange, glowing patterns… like magical circles.

She was unconscious.
Her complexion… not good.

…It didn’t look much like “safe” at all.

"Um, is this—"

"I’m forcing her heart to beat with magic… her lungs and respiratory system as well."

"—!"

My eyes went wide.

Magic was moving them?
Which meant… without it, they weren’t working at all—

"Let me give you the conclusion first."

The Doctor’s eyes locked with mine.
They were serious, tinged with sorrow.

…Even though I’d just drunk water, my mouth was bone dry.

The Doctor spoke.

"Give up on her."

Those were words I didn’t want to hear.

"…Eh?"

But he’d said the surgery was a success!
Why would he—why!?

I opened my mouth without thinking.

"Why!? You said her wounds were gone—"

"Correct. Her body has no injuries. It is as it was several hours ago."

"Then why… why can’t she—?"

"………"

The Doctor stroked his chin, visibly hesitating.
It wasn’t the look of someone who didn’t know the cause—more like someone unsure if they should say it.

His hesitation only made my frustration boil over, and I snapped at him.

"Please… tell me, Doctor…!"

"…Very well. I suppose I can."

The Doctor let out a long breath, then looked me straight in the eye.

"Her body is perfectly healthy. No illness, no wounds. But—"

He pointed toward Michelle, lying there as if in eternal sleep.

"—her soul is no longer here."

"Soul…?"

The conversation had been strictly medical until now, so the sudden shift into something mystical caught me off guard.

"Yes. A human cannot live without both a body and a soul."

"Then… Michelle is—"

"Right now, she’s only being forcibly tethered. If I release the spell… her body will perish within moments."

"……"

I forgot to breathe. No words would come.

A soul?
What even is that?

And why does the absence of it mean death?

While I sat there lost, the Doctor spoke again.

"Are you skilled in science?"

"Eh—ah… yes, I guess, about average…"

"Then this will be even harder for you to accept. It goes against every law you know."

He traced a hand through the air.
A glowing sigil appeared—intricate patterns unfolding, almost like a work of art.

"But it is real. It exists. So accept it… and let her go."

The Doctor averted his eyes.
I followed his gaze.

Michelle’s face, pale and bloodless.
Not a mark on her. The same face that had been talking to me just hours ago.

She had told me she wanted to live.

…And this was how it ended?
Was this the end of everything between us?

No more future. Just like she said… little by little, she would fade from me, become only a memory.

I didn’t want that.

I didn’t want my connection with her to turn into just a memory.
I wanted to keep walking together, no matter what came. To share even our guilt.

And yet—

This.

…Wait.

I covered my mouth with my hand.

The Doctor had said, "Give up on her."

Give up?

If she truly couldn’t be saved, then why not simply say, "She can’t be saved"?

What was it I was supposed to "give up" on?
Give up on what?

The Doctor was smart. That much was obvious from the way he spoke.

So he wouldn’t have chosen those words without reason.

Which meant—

"…Doctor. Is there a way to save her?"

The words slipped out.
Clutching at straws, I let them fall.

"…What are you saying? I told you to give up."

"But if I don’t give up… then maybe—just maybe—there’s a way to save her, right?"

"That’s sophistry."

"Maybe so. But you’re not denying it—so then—"

The Doctor sighed heavily at my persistence.
Exasperation flickered across his face.

"Listen. If I don’t say something, I have my reasons. Understand?"

"I don’t understand! And I won’t pretend to! Just tell me—please!"

His face twisted in a grimace.

"No one is trying to let her die out of preference."

"Let her—die!?"

Uncle Ben’s face seared into my mind.
The man I lost because I chose to do nothing.

"I can’t— I won’t just stand by and watch someone die again because of what I didn’t do…!"

"Humans die. That is the way of all things. Her time has simply come. Hard as it is, you must—"

"It’s not about that! It’s about how! This isn’t a good death! This—this is wrong!"

I forgot all politeness and threw my emotions straight at him.
I regretted it almost immediately—but not enough to take it back.

I didn’t understand the logic, because he wouldn’t explain.
But I did understand that he had his reasons. That he wasn’t speaking because of some firm conviction.

I understood—but I couldn’t accept it.
And he wouldn’t accept my words either.

So all I had left was to press him with my heart.

"Please, Doctor…"

"……"

"At least tell me. Otherwise… I’ll regret it. For the rest of my life, until the day I die…"

The Doctor closed his eyes.
Then opened them again, meeting my gaze.
His brows furrowed, just for an instant.

"If you were to lose everything… even then, would you still save her?"

"…Yes."

"Even if it costs you your life—something more than your life?"

I nodded firmly.
The Doctor stroked his chin, watching me carefully.

"And why? What drives you to such lengths?"

"……That’s…"

"Is it because she’s your girlfriend?"

That’s true. But—it’s also not.

Yes, I want to save Michelle.
She’s special to me.
But even if it weren’t her… I think I’d still try.

No matter how much I had to hurt myself to do it—
I’d still try.

"Because I—"

I closed my eyes.

Why do I want to save people?
Why do I keep pushing myself to help others, even at the cost of my own body?

The answer… I’ve always known.

"Because I have power."

"…Power?"

I clenched my fist.
Ever since that spider bit me, I haven’t been just another ordinary guy.

"‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ My uncle said that—before he died."

This power… it binds me.
It restricts me.

But I don’t resent it.

Because it gives me the chance to save others.

"If I have the power to help someone… then I have to help them."

"……"

"Maybe it’s old-fashioned. Maybe it’s stupid…"

"…Yes, perhaps."

"But I always thought—it was something good. Something worth being."

I shut my eyes again.

"I can’t put it into perfect words… but I want to be that way. I want to live like that."

I looked straight at him.

"So I won’t look away. I won’t let her die right in front of me. I won’t give up."

The fear inside me was gone.
I said it clearly, head-on.

The Doctor wasn’t a bad man—I knew that much.

But I refused to accept this ending.
If I gave up here, I wouldn’t be me anymore.

He gazed into my eyes.
Through me, almost—like he was looking far away.

"…A dreamer’s idealism," he said flatly.

For a moment, I almost lowered my head—

"But not one I dislike."

I snapped my eyes back up.

With a flick of his arm, the glowing sigil in his hand unraveled into nothing.
He adjusted the collar of his crimson cloak, then faced me squarely.

"Your name?"

"My name…?"

"Your real name."

"Uh… Spider-Man—"

"No. Yours."

"…Peter. Peter Parker."

"I see."

The faintest of smiles touched his lips.

"My apologies, Peter. You’re more of an adult than I thought."

And then—so subtle you could miss it if you weren’t watching closely—
he bowed his head.

"I’m sorry. About her. Let me tell you the truth."

"…Doctor…"

"Stephen will do."

I nodded.
Stephen stepped up to Michelle’s bedside.

The sound of breathing filled the room—
but it wasn’t hers.
Her chest rose and fell only because of his magic.

No wounds on her body.
But she was still dying.

He turned back to me.

"When a person is near death, the bond between body and soul weakens. Something—or someone—used that moment to seize her soul."

"Someone…?"

"I have a very good idea who."

His face darkened, twisting in distaste.

"The demon. A devil named Daemon."

"……Daemon?"

I couldn’t believe my ears.

A demon…?

Do demons really exist…? No, wait—if magic exists, then I guess it isn’t so strange.

When I finally nodded, Stephen continued his explanation.

"Demon… it took her soul away. Likely to gain power. They consume human souls and make that power their own."

Consume… souls?

"T-Then… we have to save her right away…!"

"Where do you think demons live? …The answer is Hell."

At this point, I felt certain that nothing he said could surprise me anymore.

Demons… and Hell?
I’ve fought villains who called themselves demons before, but this… this was starting to shatter my sense of reality.

Still, I knew Stephen was telling the truth. He wasn’t the kind of person to lie in a situation like this.

"Then… if that’s the case, we just need to go to this ‘Hell’ and defeat the demon—"

"That’s impossible. Hell is their home ground. If we march in, we will never be able to overcome them."

"We… can’t win?"

"You cannot go to Hell with a physical body. Only a fragile astral form of your spirit can enter. Which means, you cannot physically interfere with anything there."

"…So you’re telling me to just give up?"

"No… this is where the real matter begins."

Stephen shook his head.

"If you negotiate with a demon, the soul may be returned. They are bound by contracts and bargains."

"If that’s the case—"

"However… trading for a soul means you’ll have to offer something of equal value—or greater—in exchange."

Stephen looked straight into my eyes.

"Which means… ‘everything.’"

"……"

"Peter, if you bargain for her soul, you will lose… everything."

This wasn’t a threat.
He was truly afraid… and genuinely worried for me.

"Everything… lose everything…?"

"Your life, your soul… perhaps even more than that. So I’ll ask you again."

"……"

"Peter Parker—are you still willing?"

And in my mind… the only thing I could see was her smile.

"…Yes."

Stephen frowned.

"Even if it means being burned in flames for all eternity?"

If I had to sacrifice everything I held in my hands to save her… there was no hesitation.

Even if I lose everything.

I just want… to see her smile once more.

"I… I don’t care. That’s fine with me."

"…Honestly. This is why I didn’t want to tell you."

Even if I won’t be there anymore…
I want her to smile.

"Stephen… tell me how I can save her."

For that, I will—