Chapter 106: The Amazing Spider-Man - Part 1

Alright, let me explain it one more time.

My name is Peter Parker. Ever since three years ago, when I was bitten by a spider that had been exposed to radiation, I’ve been the one and only "Spider-Man."

I lost someone precious to me, but I saved even more people.

I saved the city.

Over and over and over again.

…Though, no one remembers it.

To save someone important, I had both the world’s memory and the records of me taken away.

So for me, it’s been three years since then—

But for everyone else, it’s only been one month.

It’s been a month since the world forgot me.

Right now, I’m living in Queens. My new place… there’s a draft, and no matter how much I clean, the stains don’t come off. "Not great," I guess—kind of like me.

Oh, right, I started working part-time. Photographer, and pizza delivery.

The Daily Bugle—forgetting me once didn’t stop them. The moment Spider-Man shows up, they go right back to writing smear pieces.

So Spider-Man photos sell for a high price. Feels good… but also kinda sad?

And then, the pizza delivery job… well, looks like I’m about to get fired.

Why?

Because—

"Curse you, Spider-Man! If you think you’re walking away from this alive, you’re dead wrong!"

In front of me stands this weird guy in green spandex with yellow sparks flashing across his body. Loud, crackling, glowing—annoying as hell.

His name is—

"Electro. Stage tricks like that are way out of style. Wouldn’t it be better to just go back to your old electrician job?"

Yeah. Electro. A former electrician who gained the power to control lightning. If I remember right… he got struck by lightning and woke up like this?

I think I heard that story a long time ago. Not that I asked—he just wouldn’t stop talking.

Electro’s probably forgotten all about it by now.

Really, it doesn’t matter if everyone forgets about me.

Villains never change—they’re still out here causing trouble.

"Shut it!"

His hands start sparking violently. That’s the tell—he’s about to fire lightning.

…I shoot a web at his feet.

"Yoink…!"

I kick off the ground, leaping to avoid the lightning. While flipping midair, I yank the web.

"Gahhh!?"

Electro loses his balance and slams face-first into the ground. Ouch.

I dash in while he’s down—

But my spider-sense flares.

I can’t dodge lightning once it’s fired—it’s too fast. But if I know where he’s aiming… I can move before he shoots.

"You won’t stop me this time!"

He suddenly springs up and fires. Too bad—I’m not there anymore.

Crack! The ground where I was explodes.

"Wha—!?"

Electro panics when he realizes he missed.

"You should really keep quiet when you’re going for a sneak attack."

I close the distance, and—

"Guaghh!?"

A clean straight punch. Knockout.

Electro collapses to the ground, unconscious.

Nose broken, bleeding. I thought I pulled my punch, but… well, serves him right.

"Alright, that’s one problem solved."

Compared to the old days, the fight felt easy.

Yeah, fighting Electro now is nothing like it used to be. I’ve grown stronger after facing death so many times.

After all, this past year I’ve been fighting a contract killer. Someone who polished the art of killing. A pro with knives and close combat. I’d like to think I picked up a few things.

…Even if that assassin turned out to be the girl I liked.

…Yeah. Let’s not get into that.

Anyway, I wrap the unconscious Electro up tight in webbing.

"Y’know, this web fluid doesn’t come free. Sometimes I feel like billing guys like you for it."

I crack a joke while stringing him up to a streetlight. He’s out cold, so he’s not hearing it.

The cops will pick him up. Hopefully this time they throw him in a maximum-security prison so he can’t break out again.

Heard Rhino escaped recently too. What a headache.

Grumbling to myself, I fire a webline to a building wall. Yank hard, swing forward.

And just like that, I leave the scene behind.

And then—

"You’re fired!"

I delivered a cold pizza, and just like that—I got fired.

Sorry about that, to the person who ordered.

It wasn’t the manager’s fault… it was mine and Electro’s. If we put the blame on a scale of ten, I’d take three, and Electro gets seven.

Really, give me a break.

A few hours ago, while on a delivery, I ran into a bank robbery. Lots of crackling electricity. I couldn’t help but frown.

For me, it wasn’t anything serious. But regular people, and the average cop, couldn’t handle it. If even one stray bolt hit someone, they could get fried.

…I had to step in.

Still, couldn’t they have done it when I was off work?

…No, scratch that. Not even on my day off. Just quit being a supervillain altogether and live a normal life.

Anyway, back to the point.

I slip into a shirt I bought at a thrift store and walk through Queens.

What a lousy day.

"Guess I need to find another job…"

Not everything goes well. In fact, more often than not, things go wrong.

I feel like I’m about to break down.

A year ago, it was the same way. Things never worked out. Take off the mask, and I’m just plain old Peter Parker. It’s always been that way.

So nothing should’ve changed.

"Sigh…"

But still, why do I feel so low?

It must be because I don’t have any friends. No family. No one to comfort me.

If I close my eyes, I can almost still feel that warmth, that softness… and that makes it hurt even more. The image in my mind is the last face I saw—hers, smiling sadly.

Then, my eyes fall on an electronic billboard.

『Unmask the Spider-Menace! Bring justice to this lawless vigilante!』

The face of an older man with streaks of white hair. The editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle.

"…Still going strong, huh, Jameson. Kind of envy you."

I chuckle bitterly and keep walking.

These are streets I’ve walked countless times. To everyone else, I probably look like a stranger passing through.

Anyway, this is Queens. My home.

As I walk—

"…………"

I feel it. Loneliness, emptiness. The scenery hasn’t changed. Maybe that’s exactly why it feels so hollow.

Once my mood dips, it just keeps rolling downhill—like falling dominoes.

I need to be careful.

Okay, let’s cheer up. Maybe I’ll treat myself to a nice dinner tonight.

A "congrats on losing my job" celebration. Not that there’s anything to celebrate.

Just then, my beat-up old phone vibrates. …It’s a call from Stephen.

We exchanged numbers not too long ago. Apparently even the Sanctum Sanctorum has phone lines and free Wi-Fi.

…Do they make the Wi-Fi password sound like a magic spell too? Probably. I’d ask, but I’m not an insider. Still—kind of curious.

Anyway, better pick up.

I hit the button and answer.

"Hello? Stephen?"

『…Peter. Come to the Sanctum.』

"Huh? Is it urgent?"

I don’t exactly have any plans. Or rather—I don’t anymore. My delivery job’s gone. I do need to start job-hunting again, but… it’s not like I need to do it right this second.

『It’s urgent.』

"Ah—yeah, I’ll head right over."

I end the call and slip my phone into my backpack.

Then I duck into an alley and strip off my shirt and jeans.

Underneath is the suit. Mask over my head, and—

The same old red-and-blue costume.

Spider-Man.

I shoot a webline and swing into the sky. Take the subway or a cab? Sure, I could—but Stephen said it was urgent. This way’s faster. Straight-line travel.

…Still, it feels like I change clothes way too many times in a single day.

If I still had the nanomachine suit Stark made me, I could change in an instant… wouldn’t have to sneak behind buildings for a quick-change thrill like this.

I fire another webline and swing. My red-and-blue reflection streaks across the glass, bouncing upward.

Spider-Man and Peter Parker—both are swamped.

This is my new life.

But even with all the busyness… honestly, I’m grateful for it. If I don’t have time to sit around feeling down, maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

So I don’t cry.

So I don’t let myself feel sad.

So I don’t start lamenting.

That’s why, for now… I just turn my eyes away. From the loneliness that gnaws at me.

---

I stood beside the wooden door, rang the bell, and slipped my hands into the pockets of my coat.

Tapping the floor tiles lightly with the tip of my shoe, I looked around.

A neatly kept lawn, thick trees. An ideal garden… and white walls. The small scratches gave away its age—it was an old single-family home.

This was New York. Queens, Forest Hills. A quiet residential neighborhood.

And my name is… Michelle Jane Watson. That’s the name I’ve been using ever since the heroes saved me.

Until a month ago, the name Michelle Jane was a fake. My real name had been "Redcap."

But the organization I belonged to has been destroyed. There’s no one left to call me "Redcap."

And the ID Nick Fury created for me reads "Michelle Jane Watson."

So this is my real name now. I don’t have to change it every time I move somewhere new.

It’s been a month since I came under the protection of 『S.H.I.E.L.D.』. At first, I wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital room… but after about two weeks, I was moved somewhere else.

A large condominium in Manhattan, New York. Apparently, it was originally built by Tony Stark’s father, Howard Stark… but after Tony inherited it, he donated it to 『S.H.I.E.L.D.』.

That’s where people like me—those with complicated circumstances—live. A wolf-woman, a former spy, even a talking dog.

Nick Fury told me I could live there freely until I made a "choice."

And that "choice" meant…

To live as an ordinary human being in society, or to cooperate with 『S.H.I.E.L.D.』 and live as an agent.

One of those two.

But… I don’t think I can live as an ordinary person. No, I mustn’t. Even if someone forgives me… I cannot forgive myself.

Then what—should I live as a 『S.H.I.E.L.D.』 agent? As some ally of justice?

…It doesn’t feel possible. I’ve lived my whole life drifting, without conviction.

And someone like me is supposed to shoulder the responsibility of being a hero?

…I’m not confident. Can someone like me really live for others?

What if I end up hurting people instead? What if I make some huge mistake… and ruin someone’s life?

The thought terrifies me. I can’t take that step.

Killing people doesn’t scare me as much as having to "choose" something and take "responsibility" for it.

…The great power I have, the false kind that no one else does. I can’t carry the great responsibility that should come with it.

Not everyone can be a hero. You need virtue… and a staggering sense of responsibility.

That’s why… I can’t do it. I can’t find the answer.

Even when I delayed giving them my answer, they allowed it. Nick Fury, the Captain, Tony Stark—every single one of them thinks of me as a victim.

But that’s not true. No matter how much I tell them otherwise, nobody listens.

They’re all just waiting for me to recover.

They’re wrong. I’m… not the kind of person anyone should be placing their hopes on.

And so… still unable to make my "choice," I continue to live in the Manhattan condo. Once a week, I go to Avengers Tower… for mental care and such.

I live alone. Without inconvenience. …Without losing anything.

Anyway, once I was granted permission to go out, there was one thing I absolutely had to do. No—something I needed to find out.

I needed to search for the unease buried deep in my mind. The memories of me acting in ways that weren’t like me at all… I had to uncover their cause.

That’s why I came here, to Forest Hills in Queens.

At the sound of the doorbell, the door opened, and an elderly woman appeared. The owner of the house.

"Oh my… and you are?"

Hearing that, I bowed my head.

"Nice to meet you… I’m Michelle Jane."

May Parker. The very person I was searching for… Spider-Man’s secret. The aunt of Peter Parker.

The one who raised him when he had no parents.

"My, my…? Did you need something?"

May Parker didn’t regard me with suspicion. Maybe it was her bottomless kindness… or maybe it was because I looked like a young girl.

Probably both.

I shut my eyes briefly… then asked her my question.

"Do you happen to know someone named Peter Parker?"

If Spider-Man existed in this world… if Peter Parker existed…

Her nephew—

"No? I don’t know anyone like that… but the last name is the same, isn’t it?"

Her response caught me off guard, and I blinked in surprise.

She doesn’t know? That can’t be…

"…………"

"Um, is something the matter?"

Startled, I looked back at May Parker’s face. I must have gone blank for a moment.

I thought I’d finally found a lead to the unease gnawing inside me… and instead, I’d been given an even greater reason to feel it.

"No… it’s just, I’m looking for someone by the name of Peter Parker…"

I had no reason to lie, so I said it plainly.

"Oh… I’m sorry I couldn’t be of help."

But May Parker still apologized. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet, her expression was genuinely remorseful.

"…No, I should be the one apologizing, showing up here out of the blue."

With that, I excused myself and left.

Peter Parker… doesn’t exist in this world? That’s impossible.

The Spider-Man I saw on television was exactly as I remembered him. Red and blue, marked with a black spider emblem.

So he must exist. Not a woman, not a pig, not a zombie—Peter Parker.

And yet, May Parker said she didn’t know him. That she’d never even been involved with him.

I don’t understand. My mind whirled.

This feeling in my chest—this unease, this sense of loss. What is it?

I crushed the slip of paper in my hand with Peter Parker’s address in Queens, Forest Hills written on it. Tossing it into a trash can along the road, I heard it rattle inside.

I’d found that information on the computer in the lobby of my condo. A wasted trip, it seemed.

…With my purpose gone, I left Forest Hills and headed elsewhere.

I hadn’t planned on going there today, but things ended sooner than expected.

So, as long as I was in Queens, I decided to stop by the New York Hall of Science. I’d already come all the way from Manhattan, after all.

…A large, white, dome-like building. Just as I remembered.

I had come here once before—"alone."

Yes, alone.

Me? To a science museum? Alone?

That makes no sense.

…Someone must have invited me. But that "someone" wasn’t anywhere to be found. At least, not in my memory.

I paid the cheap admission fee and went inside.

The exhibits were different from what I remembered.

The last time I’d been here… everything had felt so fresh, so new… and it had made me happy.

Why had it made me happy? I didn’t know.

…Suspicion turned to certainty.

I must have come here with "someone." With someone close, sharing that memory together.

I must have been happy because I’d learned what that person loved.

Step by step, I walked deeper inside.

And then… there it was. A massive machine on display.

"…This is…"

I knew it. It was a radiation emitter. They’d once used it for public demonstrations, apparently.

I frowned as I read the plaque.

But there was no mention of public demonstrations at all.

Then who told me about them?

It must have been "someone."

I looked up at the machine. Nearly three meters tall… a radiation emitter.

And those public demonstrations.

…Radiation.

Radioactive blood.

And spiders.

Without realizing it, my eyes widened. My gaze slowly dropped downward.

Peter Parker was bitten by a spider exposed to radiation, and became Spider-Man.

The details may shift between stories, but that never changes.

That radiation… and right here, this machine—this radiation emitter.

And the talk of public demonstrations I shouldn’t even know about.

The "someone" who must have been with me back then.

The sudden appearance of Spider-Man, only a month ago.

The "Peter Parker" that even May Parker had no knowledge of.

The puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

…Spider-Man, Peter Parker. He’d always existed. He was my friend. And somehow… everyone else had forgotten him.

It was only speculation—a conclusion tainted by wishful thinking. But once I thought of it that way… I couldn’t help but believe it was the truth.

"…Peter Parker."

In the comics… there are those who possess the power to bend reality itself—『reality-warping abilities』.

Scarlet Witch. Molecule Man. Jamie Braddock. Mephisto… and others.

Their range and scope of power differ, but there are some who could erase all memory and existence of a person from the world entirely. Even Doctor Strange could do it.

What if, for some reason, Peter’s memories and records had been erased from this world?

…If that’s the case… it would all make sense. My sense of unease would finally have a name.

But if someone really did manipulate reality… then why?

Why would they erase him?

And why hasn’t Spider-Man told anyone the truth?

…More than anything.

If Peter Parker was my friend… Gwen’s friend… Ned’s friend…

And yet, the whole world has forgotten him. Even his closest friends have.

That’s… far too…

"Sad…"

To be forgotten by everyone, and still forced to go on living… that’s unbearably sad.

My fingers reached for the accessory at my chest.

A patchwork rose of blue and white. Broken, glued back together in a hospital room—a battered rose.

…I cupped it in my hands.

If it was given to me as a gift, then I must have been close to him.

And yet… why?

Why hasn’t Spider-Man—hasn’t Peter Parker—come to speak with me or Gwen?

Why hasn’t he explained why we lost our memories?

…Why has he accepted being alone?

I have to search for him.

I have to meet him.

I want to see him.

I want to know for sure.

The emptiness in my chest… it’s no longer just about filling it.

If my theory is right… then right now, Peter Parker must be suffering.

…and I want to know the reason for that suffering.

Though I have never once met him… I found myself longing for him.

---

Sanctum Sanctorum.

From the outside, it looked a little old-fashioned… no, more like a place with character, built of brick. Even from outside, the skylight was visible—shaped almost like a magic circle.

I walked up to the door, about to press the bell… when the door opened on its own.

"Whoa, automatic door."

As I stepped into the Sanctum and looked back, the door closed behind me. It didn’t seem to be electrical, at least. Some kind of magical automatic door?

Wait… huh? It feels cold. Even though spring had passed and summer was on its way.

I looked around inside.

Snow. Snow had piled up.

"…Huh?"

I spun around, and the Sanctum was completely buried in snow. It was like a blizzard had started right inside the room.

"Welcome, Peter."

Descending the grand staircase was Stephen Strange, wearing a coat.

"Uh, Stephen? What… what is this?"

"Ah, the snow?"

When Stephen snapped his fingers, the snow at our feet rippled like a wave and rolled away from where we stood.

"The Sanctum contains dimensional doors that connect to all sorts of places. One of them leads to a mountaintop. Neglecting maintenance led to this—"

He gestured toward the snowy mess.

"This is the result."

"…Want me to help?"

I see. So the reason Stephen called me here was to deal with the snow—

"No, you don’t need to help."

Apparently not.

"Then, what should I—"

"Nothing in particular?"

Stephen answered with a grin.

…Huh? Wasn’t this supposed to be urgent? I tilted my head.

"Didn’t you call me because you had something for me to do?"

"No. Nothing specific."

Stephen snapped his fingers again. The snow at our feet turned pale green, transformed into butterflies, and fluttered through the air before dissolving into particles and vanishing.

"I don’t need help cleaning up."

"What? Then why…?"

"Ah, because calling you here was the whole point. In that sense, my purpose is already accomplished."

He said something so baffling it left me at a loss. But that’s just Stephen. Talking to him always feels like some kind of IQ training.

"…Hmm."

Stephen glanced at his arm. A luxury watch gleamed on his wrist.

"…Shall we chat a bit? How have you been lately, Peter?"

"How I’ve been? Uh, great. Perfectly fine."

A lie. I’d just been fired from my part-time job.

Maybe he saw right through it, because Stephen frowned.

"Peter, it’s okay to say you’re having a hard time when you are."

"I’m fine, really."

It’s true… losing things hurts. Family, friends… even people I admired.

If I’d never had them in the first place, I could’ve accepted that. But losing something after already holding it… that’s the hardest.

Still, it was my own choice. I won’t ruin everything just to escape from this pain.

Stephen let out a sigh and rested his hand on his chin.

"…Are you afraid of being happy?"

The question made me tilt my head.

"I don’t think so…"

"I thought not. Then maybe it’s unconscious."

He touched his forehead with his fingers, rubbing it.

"Peter, you need to forgive yourself."

"…Forgive?"

"You mustn’t let yourself be crushed by the guilt you carry."

Stephen was a good decade—no, two decades—older than me. Maybe it was wisdom that came with age. He was trying to guide me.

"That’s not… I don’t really feel guilty…"

"You’ve suffered enough already. You deserve to be saved."

He cut me off, ignoring my words.

Unconscious guilt?

Of course… I knew that.

…Even now, I still dream about it sometimes.

The day Uncle Ben died. The day I let that robber go.

The dreams feel so real. No matter how much I try to move my body… it won’t budge.

I let that criminal go… and abandoned the responsibility I should have borne.

And then—

"Peter."

Stephen called out to me.

"Be more selfish."

He placed a hand on my shoulder.

"The responsibility you feel… it isn’t yours alone. Others feel it too. Don’t try to carry it all by yourself."

"……Got it."

When I nodded, Stephen let out another sigh.

"You still don’t get it… but never mind. I’m not here to lecture you today."

"It already kind of felt like a lecture, though…"

When I said that, Stephen frowned and glanced at his watch.

"…Well, fine. You should go now. I have an appointment."

"An appointment? Someone’s coming here?"

"No. They’re not meeting me."

…There he goes again, saying something cryptic. Are all sorcerers like this? Well, Wong wasn’t really like that…

Anyway, if he’s checking the time, it must mean that whatever he was waiting for is about to happen.

"…Alright then, I’ll head out."

"Yes. And every now and then, you should send word on how you’re doing."

I waved to Stephen and was about to leave the chilly Sanctum behind.

…Then something came to mind, and I turned back.

"About my debt—I still can’t really pay you back yet—"

"Forget it. In fact, you ought to trouble me more."

His words made me tilt my head.

"…Sorry, what?"

"Just go already."

I reflexively apologized, and Stephen just waved me off.

Bowing my head, I closed the door behind me… and left the Sanctum.

Outside, the sky had already turned red.

By the time I made it back home to Queens, it’d probably be night.

I should change into my Spider-Man suit now—

I rolled up my sleeve and checked the web cartridge. Looked like I was running low on fluid.

If I needed to be Spider-Man on the way back… I couldn’t afford to waste it.

Guess I’ll walk home, even if it takes longer.

Oh, and… I’ll need to grab dinner somewhere.

It’s so late already that finding a restaurant feels like a hassle.

I don’t really know this neighborhood, and it all looks expensive anyway… I’ll just eat once I get back to Queens.

I know my way around there.

Thinking about dinner, I started walking toward the city where I was born and raised.

---

After leaving the NY Science Museum, I found myself walking through Queens.

The sky was painted red.
The short hand of the clock pointed straight down.

…Maybe wandering around Queens isn’t such a good idea.

Someone might have seen the body I planted as a disguise.

But really, the only ones who know I "died" are my classmates from school, right?

New York is crowded. Unless I run into them face-to-face, no one’s going to notice me in this sea of people.

It’s probably just me worrying too much.

Still… maybe I should head back to Manhattan soon.

…I rubbed my stomach. Hunger was gnawing at me.

I’ll eat something before I go home.

The apartment I live in isn’t a dorm. Meals aren’t provided—I have to prepare them myself.

So it makes more sense to eat here before heading back.

Fortunately, I had money. Pocket money Tony Stark forced on me.

I told him I didn’t need it… but when I tried to refuse, he shoved an even bigger sum into my hands.

In the end, all I could do was keep my mouth shut. If I refused again, he’d probably dump an even larger amount on me.

Heroes can’t help but meddle. That’s fine, but… they should at least be careful about who they meddle with.

Now, where should I eat?

I actually know Queens’ eateries fairly well. Back when I lived here, I ate out every single day.

…I stopped walking.

Ah, right. That place.

I turned on my heel and headed toward a spot I used to frequent.

After a short walk… the sky grew a shade darker.

New York isn’t the safest place. It’s not wise to be out too late at night.

…Well, even if some thug picked a fight with me, I wouldn’t lose.
But pointless trouble is best avoided.

My eyes caught a sign painted with a picture of a sandwich. This was the place I’d decided on today.

I put my hand on the door and pushed it open. A bell attached to the door chimed pleasantly.

Inside, the shop looked worn with age. Behind the counter sat Delmar, the owner, yawning. The counter was moderately wide, with about five stools lined up in a row.

"Mm, ah… well, if it isn’t the young lady. Been a while, huh?"

That was how familiar I was here—familiar enough to be greeted like a regular.

But… something about the place felt unusually quiet. Quiet enough that I wondered how it hadn’t gone under already.

"Has anything changed around here?"

I tried some small talk.

"Ah, yeah… uh, it was a while back, but there was some kind of incident nearby."

"Nearby?"

I leaned in to listen.

"Yeah, behind here. Word is, they found some kinda nasty corpse."

…Wait.

"…H-heh."

I remembered. My brother—Tinkerer—he was the one who scattered the body of my LMD, the Life Model Decoy. Right around here.

I never gave him a specific location, but he said he dumped it somewhere near the place I was living at the time.

…Could it be that the corpse they found was mine?

"Anyway, business has been lousy since then. I thought maybe that’s why you stopped coming by, young lady."

"Ah, no… I moved pretty far away, that’s all…"

I looked away as I said that and sat down at the counter.

"I see… so, what’ll it be?"

"The usual."

"Shortcake, right? Got it."

Without even glancing at the menu, Delmar nodded.

A short while later, he set down in front of me a sandwich filled with cream and strawberries.

I picked it up from the plate and took a bite.

Delicious.
The sweetness of the whipped cream seeped deep into me.
The mild flavor of the rye and the tartness of the strawberries brought out the richness of the cream.

The taste hadn’t changed since the last time I ate it… the same, familiar deliciousness as always.

And yet… somehow, it felt like something was missing.

I took another bite.
The taste was the same.

My sense of taste and smell told me nothing had changed at all.

…So what was missing?

No—that’s not true. I knew the answer.

Most likely, I used to come here with "someone"… most likely with "Peter Parker."

To me, he must have been… that important of a presence… right?

Chirin—the bell chimed.

Startled, I quickly licked the cream off my fingers and wiped the rest away with a napkin.

Shifting my gaze to the side… there stood a boy about my age—no, a young man.

He looked at me… with a faint expression of surprise. Then, as if realizing I was looking back, he hastily averted his eyes.

His hair was light brown… his face looked a little weary, lacking in energy.
His features were well-shaped, but gave him a slightly boyish look.

That was the impression he gave.

"Your order?"

Prompted by Delmar, the young man turned to face him.

"Number 5, the BLT… oh, and if possible, add some pickles and flatten it, really squash it down."

"…Got it."

What a strange way to order, I thought.

Maybe he was a regular too? Though I had never seen him before.

I turned my gaze back to my shortcake sandwich and took another bite.

Then I felt it—a stare.
…From that young man.

"…Something wrong?"

I turned my face toward him.
He looked… a little surprised, and his eyes darted away.

"N-no, it’s nothing."

"…Really?"

He scratched his cheek and gave me a sheepish smile.
I couldn’t quite figure him out.

I quietly went back to eating my shortcake sandwich.

He, on the other hand, kept fidgeting—looking up at the ceiling, doing anything to avoid turning his gaze toward me.

It felt a little awkward.

But strangely enough, I didn’t find it unpleasant. If anything… it felt oddly comfortable.

After a short while, Delmar returned. In his hand was a sandwich pressed flat and thin.

"Here you go, kid. Four dollars."

"Ah, thanks… appreciate it, mister."

He handed the money to the shopkeeper… and then looked my way again.

"Um… excuse me, do you have a minute?"

I finished my sandwich and wiped my hands with a napkin.

"…What is it?"

"Well… um…"

He looked like he was struggling to find the right words.
I watched him carefully, taking in the way he wrestled with himself.

"Was that sandwich you were eating earlier… good?"

"…Yeah. It was good. I’d recommend it."

"I see…"

I tilted my head, unsure what he wanted to hear… or what he meant by the question.

He clasped his hands together, seeming to hesitate, then spoke again.

"Um… right now… are you… happy?"

It was truly a strange question.

I didn’t know what he meant by it… but happy, huh.

Surrounded by important friends.
Living without taking another’s life.
Spending calm, peaceful days.

That… was really, for me—

"Yeah, I think I’m happy right now."

I answered.

"I see… I’m glad."

He seemed to savor that reply for a moment… then turned on his heel.

"Well then… um, goodbye."

He put his hand on the door and opened it.

"…Yeah. Goodbye."

The bell chimed pleasantly as the door closed.
He walked out of the sandwich shop.

Goodbye… goodbye, huh.
I didn’t like that word.

I didn’t know why… but I didn’t like “goodbye.”
I preferred words like “see you later” instead.

Delmar returned from the kitchen to the counter.
I took out my wallet and paid.

And then—

"That man from earlier… is he a regular too?"

I asked.
He had ordered the sandwich flattened, with pickles… he seemed to know the place quite well.

But the answer that came back wasn’t what I expected.

"Nope. But flattening a BLT like that… it’s not a bad idea."

I frowned at his denial.
And then, a thought came to mind.

He had been a regular… but maybe he had been forgotten?

And that was probably—

I hurried out of the sandwich shop.
It was already dark outside.

I looked left and right… but he was gone.
Behind me, I heard Delmar’s confused voice.

…But I couldn’t stop.

I ran, searching for him.

He was probably… the person I had known well.
The one behind this sense of loss I felt.

The "someone" who had been with me.

So… I had to find him.

Because he was surely…

His name was…

"Peter…?"

I ran a little further… and under the dim glow of New York’s streetlights, I found him.

He noticed me calling his name… and turned around, looking surprised.