Chapter 110: Atonement for Sin - part 2

……I looked at the girl sitting primly on the sofa in front of me.

Her gaze drifted around, as if checking the room’s interior… and, well, as the homeowner, it just made me feel uncomfortable.

Platinum blonde hair swayed.

Before I knew it, I opened my mouth.

"…What are you here for?"

I had no clue.

The girl—right now, she’s being called Michelle—looked at me.

"I still haven’t thanked you."

"…Huh?"

"After you got hospitalized, Herman, you left without saying a word…"

At those words, I pressed a hand to my face.

It’s not like I wanted a debt.
I didn’t need anything in return.
I didn’t want gratitude.

I only saved her because I’d promised.

I only saved her because I’d once been saved myself.

I only saved her because I thought I’d regret it if I didn’t.

That’s all—

"Thanks aren’t necessary."

I answered bluntly.

I averted my eyes from the girl.

No matter what, it just felt unbearably awkward.

"…Herman."

Her voice reached me.

Beautiful… gentle, like someone who had never known anything bad.
Like a perfectly ordinary, cute girl born in a good family, raised in a good environment, and given a kind heart.

But reality was different.
She’d spent her childhood in a rotten place, forced to kill even when she didn’t want to… She was the voice of someone who’d once been my comrade.

At last, she was living in kindness.
Living in a light fitting for her eyes, her voice, her soul…

But if she got tangled up with someone like me—

"Why won’t you look me in the eye?"

Her words spilled out, and I turned my gaze back.

Eyes clinging to mine, locking onto me.

Ah, damn it.
What’s damnable?

Me.

My eyes aren’t this clean.

Her eyes were the clear color of the sea.
Mine were the rotten, muddy color of a sewer.

Different.

Completely.

At the core of who we are, we’re different.

"…Hey."

"What is it?"

"Why do you even try to get involved with someone like me?"

You’re… not like me. Not a piece of shit criminal.

A girl with a future, and a bastard cornered into a dead end.

Getting involved with me won’t bring you anything good—

"Herman, to me… you’re a comrade."

…A comrade, huh.

Not a friend, not family.
Just… a comrade.

A comrade who only worked the same jobs together.

While I kept thinking, the girl just kept her eyes on me.
Looking at me with unclouded eyes.

"As you helped me, I… want to help you if you’re in trouble."

Those words cut right through me, as if she could already see the truth.

…It pissed me off.
But still, my chest felt just a little warm.

Feeling something like that only irritated me more.

"I’m not in trouble."

"Lie."

"It’s not a lie."

"I know."

A few short exchanges, and my irritation hit its peak.

"You don’t know shit! What could you possibly know?!"

I raised my voice.
Acted rough.

I wanted her to think I wasn’t worth her concern.

That way, maybe tomorrow she’d forget about me… and go live in her bright everyday life.

"I do know, Herman."

But the words that came back weren’t the ones I wanted.

"…Know what—"

The girl brushed aside her bangs.
Her eyes, somehow, were sharper now.

"I’m the one who’s killed traitors all this time, Herman."

At those words… I was struck speechless.

I’d tried not to think about it, but I knew.

Who was the assassin Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin, relied on when he needed traitors killed?

I knew.
I had known all along.

The one with the red mask—

"I’ve killed plenty of people who betrayed Wilson Fisk. I told myself they were scum from the start, so I felt no guilt, and just killed whoever I was ordered to."

Her cold eyes pierced me.

They weren’t the gentle eyes from before.
They were murky, like mine.

Her voice wasn’t gentle anymore either.
It pressed down with intimidation, just like mine.

This girl… hasn’t forgotten.

She hasn’t forgotten how to act like the trash she used to be, same as me.

"Herman, I’m the one who’s killed people like you are now. That’s why I understand."

"……"

"I can’t help but understand."

Yes—she declared it, without doubt.

I bit down on my lower lip.

She was wrong.
That’s not why I saved this girl.

I didn’t want her to keep acting like this.
I wanted her to throw away all those chains from the past and just live like a kid her age.

Me too.
And her brother as well.

"…Even if that’s true, it doesn’t matter."

"It does. I’m your comrade."

"You’re not my comrade."

I denied it.

No.
No, that’s not it.

"We’re different, you and me."

I chose to be a criminal.
You had no choice but to become one.

We’re different.

That’s why—

"Even if we’re different. No matter what you say, I still… think of you as a comrade."

…No matter how much I deny it, the girl in front of me won’t back down.

"My past won’t change. It won’t disappear. The sins I’ve committed… and the connection I have with you."

Yeah, that’s right.
I knew that stubborn strength well.

Her looks might have changed, but that part of her… hasn’t changed since back then.

"That’s why, Herman…"

Her eyes clung to me.

I bit my lip again and let out a sigh.

"…What a stubborn brat."

"Is that a compliment?"

"Not a chance. I’m exasperated."

I sighed again.

It looks like this girl in front of me… isn’t going to live the way I hoped.

And truth is, she doesn’t even want to.

…Yeah, that’s it.

I was just forcing my own values on her.

Forcing on her the wish that she live in a kind world, never having to fight again.

I was ignoring her will.

"…Haah, damn it."

Without realizing it, I was doing the same thing those counseling instructors used to do.

I turned my gaze back to the girl—back to Michelle.

"So? Do you have a plan?"

"…This—"

Michelle started to pull something out from her coat—

—when the doorbell rang.

Talk about bad timing.

"…Herman."

She tilted her chin toward the door.
Whatever she was about to take out, she slipped it back inside.

"Tch. Who the hell is it now?"

Could it be Hydro-Man… Morris this time?

I stood up from the sofa, glancing at Michelle.

"Stay put, alright?"

"…I’m not a child."

"Come back after you’ve grown a few more inches, then."

Ignoring her protest, I headed for the front door.
I grabbed the doorknob, turned it—

And standing there was—

"Yo, Shocker!"

I shut the door.

"Wh-wait! Don’t shut it, you idiot!"

"You’re the idiot! What the hell are you here for, bastard?!"

Light brown hair, short cut, scruffy stubble. Too young to really call him middle-aged.

Name’s Fred.

Fred Myers.

Friend? Nah, not a friend.

A coworker… well, ex-coworker.
Yeah, ex-coworker.

Better known as… “Boomerang.”
Obvious, right?

He wasn’t wearing his suit now, but the suit’s just as obvious.
He looks like a walking boomerang.

A worthless crook.

"Wait wait wait! I’ve got a money-making gig!"

"I’m on probation! If I do anything now, I’m back in prison!"

"Nobody will know if you don’t say anything!"

"That’s not the problem here!"

"What!? Since when did you get so cowardly! Damn, that hurts, man…"

"Go cry about it yourself, asshole!"

We pulled back and forth on the doorknob.

‘Boomerang.’ This guy’s trash.

Grade-A trash.

He’s an idiot.
A clown.
A compulsive liar and a backstabber.

But… he does have one skill.

He’s insanely good at throwing boomerangs.
That’s it.

No, actually, you can’t underestimate it.
Every throw hits its mark.
And it always comes back to his hand.

I’ll give him that.

But everything else about him is crap.

His personality, his lifestyle… he’s a scumbag, just like me.

Fred—no, Boomerang—yanked on the knob and poked his head through the gap in the door.

"The gang’s all here! Let’s hit it big again!"

"Again? When the hell did we ever succeed before?!"

"Hah!? Who cares about that! We’ll succeed this time!"

"You piece of shit!"

We kept shouting back and forth, fighting over the door.

"I’ve even got the team name! The new Sinister Six!"

"The hell!? What are you talking about? Who’s even in it?!"

"You, me, Beetle, Speed Demon, and Overdrive!"

A familiar name.

I knew every single one of them.

…But still.

"…Huh? You dumbass, that’s only five people! What’s with calling it the ‘Six’? You can’t even count?!"

"We’re still recruiting! With you, that makes five—"

"Herman?"

Suddenly, a girl’s voice came from behind me.

…Ah, shit. I told her to sit on the damn sofa!
Wait, did I actually say that out loud?

Either way, if she comes over here—

"Shocker, who’s that!? I heard a girl’s voice!"

"S-shut up! Get lost!"

See? Now it’s getting complicated.

While I was distracted by Michelle, Boomerang tried to force the door open.
I hurried to slam it shut… but too late.

He squeezed himself inside through the gap.
Trespassing bastard.

"Just dropping… in, so to speak."

Shut up.

The first thing he did was look straight at the girl.
At Michelle.

"…Hey, Shocker. This one yours?"

He asked while holding up his pinky.

I want to hit him.

"She’s not."

"Herman, who is this man?"

Michelle spoke aloud.

Goddammit, you’re just making it worse.
Please, just keep quiet. Seriously, I’m begging you.

"Nice to meet you, miss. The name’s Fred Myers. Pleasure."

"Huh…?"

No, don’t do it, don’t you dare shake his hand.
Look at him! Boomerang’s grinning like a creep!
Don’t touch him!

"But Shocker, you realize… this is a crime."

"What the hell are you talking about."

"Her age, man. Looks like trouble."

Die.

The insult nearly slipped out. I forced it back down my throat. Just barely. Safe.

"Die, you piece of shit!"

…Nope. Couldn’t hold it in.

"Don’t be shy."

He smirked.

Irritation boiling, Michelle leaned closer to me.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Can I punch him?"

Of course not. Stop trying to solve everything with violence.

While Michelle and I were muttering to each other, Boomerang stuck his head in.

"What are you two whispering about? Let me in o—"

"Fuungh."

Thud!

A heavy, dull impact.

Michelle’s fist had sunk deep into Boomerang’s stomach.

…His eyes rolled back, foam bubbling from his mouth as he collapsed.

What kind of strike hits so precisely that it drops him like that?
It was violence like a work of art—no wasted motion. Amazing.

…No, this is not the time to admire it.

"The hell’d you hit him for?!"

"He just touched my ass."

…Narrowing my eyes, I glanced down at the idiot foaming at the floor.

"Ah… makes sense."

"Exactly."

"…Then fine."

"Yeah, fine."

We both nodded. I put my foot on Boomerang’s back.

So what the hell was this “big score” he kept talking about?
Not that I planned to join in, but… now I was a little curious.

"Anyway, Herman, despite the interruption…"

Ignoring the fool at our feet, Michelle pulled an envelope from inside her coat.
She handed it to me.

"…What’s this?"

"An invitation I got through my connections."

"Connections?"

"I begged my therapist, and he arranged it."

"…Therapist?"

"The Winter Soldier."

"…O-oh?"

The envelope wasn’t even sealed.
Stepping over the unconscious idiot, I stood in front of the sofa and pulled out the letter inside.

I read it.

Pressed a hand to my brow.

"…Hey."

"What is it."

"Is this for real?"

My eyes went back to the letter.

"I’m serious."

"This ain’t an invitation… it’s a summons."

"Isn’t it basically the same thing?"

"No… it doesn’t have that harmless ‘event’ kind of feel."

Again, I lowered my gaze.

The Thunderbolts.
A government-backed team of ex-criminals playing hero.

Not the main team, but some sort of spin-off.

And this was their summons.
Addressed, of course, to Herman Schultz.
My name.

"So you’re telling me to play hero?"

"If you’re attached to a big hero team, people won’t come after you so easily, will they?"

God, I hated it.
Truly, I hated it.

But… still.

I let out a sigh.

"…Well, thanks."

I said it. I actually thanked her.

If someone else had brought this, if anyone else had told me to join up… I’d have torn the summons to pieces.

But… I looked at the girl in front of me.

She’d been worrying about me. Thinking it through, struggling, lowering her head just to bring this to me.

I could see that.

I could see it, so I couldn’t brush it off.

And besides… if I thought about it rationally, it wasn’t a bad deal.

Not wanting to join a hero team, not wanting to do hero work—that was just me being stubborn.

And honestly, her devotion meant a hell of a lot more than my damn pride ever could. There wasn’t even a comparison.

When I accepted the paper, the girl’s furrowed brows eased. She looked her age again, like a normal young girl.

And then—

"I’m glad."

She whispered it.

Why does the one doing the saving look happier than the one being saved?

That’s what I thought, even as I realized… this back-and-forth of debts between me and her was going to keep going.

It always had.

I saved her, she saved me, I saved her, she saved me. Over and over again.

Last time, I saved her. This time, she saved me.

"…Sorry."

Yeah, that’s right. That’s how it was.

She wasn’t just some kid who needed protecting.

She was my equal.
Someone I could help, and someone who could help me.
A comrade.

Some things don’t change, no matter how much our situations do.
Our relationship was one of them.

Still… I could imagine Tinkerer scowling about it.

The old man wanted Michelle to live like an ordinary girl.
And I got that feeling, too.

Maybe I’ll visit his grave sometime.

I don’t even know what he liked, but I can at least bring flowers.

The same kind of flowers he once gave me.

"Herman, what do we do with this guy?"

Michelle crouched down and pointed at the idiot foaming at the mouth at her feet.

"Dump him in the hallway."

That was his answer.

---

I, Gwen Stacy, looked at the man slumping in front of me.

Then, I turned my gaze away and sipped my coffee. I picked up a chocolate cookie from the plate, but it slipped between my knees.

It didn’t fall to the floor—just crumbs scattered. Gwenom had eaten it.

I turned my eyes back to the man in front of me.

"Harry, did something happen?"

He’s been acting weird these past few days. Normally he’s full of confidence, all bold and cocky, but now… what’s the word… like a loser? Yeah, something like that.

Harry forced a dry smile at my voice.

"Something… no, nothing."

"That’s a lie. Something definitely happened."

When I pressed him, his eyes dropped.

Seriously… something’s wrong. The usual Harry is more… how should I put it… well, by normal standards, he’s supposed to be handsome, at least.

"…Gwen, it’s about Michelle."

"Ah, that."

Harry likes Michelle. As a man, he likes her as a woman.

But he’s been rejected once before.

That was before it came out that she was "Redcap." So, even though she turned him down, we figured it was because of her own circumstances.

I mean, think about it. She’s pretty, she’s kind, and when a young, rich, handsome guy confesses, there aren’t many girls who’d say no.

So, yeah, we assumed it was just unavoidable at the time, but now… well, maybe things would be different.

And yet, Harry looks like this. Definitely not the face of someone whose confession worked out.

"…She turned you down again?"

"No, that’s not it…"

Harry shook his head.

"Huh? Then it worked out?"

"No… not that either…"

Harry shook his head again. I crossed my arms and pressed him, irritation creeping in.

"Then what? Why are you moping like this?"

"Well… it’s just…"

Harry groaned, sounding reluctant, then finally opened his mouth.

"…What would you think if Michelle already had a boyfriend?"

The words that came out made no sense.

"Hah? Aside from you and Ned, she doesn’t have any close guy friends, right?"

"I mean hypothetically… what if she did? Some guy we don’t know about, and he’s her boyfriend?"

I snorted.

"Impossible. No way."

"Yeah… right… yeah…"

That’s when I noticed—Harry was acting seriously strange. Wait… could it be? Was that not just hypothetical?

"…She really does?"

"Well… seems like it. Cosmo said so."

I folded my arms and thought it over.

Now that he mentions it… Michelle has seemed different lately. Brighter somehow. She doesn’t downplay herself as much, and she laughs more.

The right word would be "giddy." Not that it’s a bad thing.

"…So who is it?"

"I don’t know."

We both leaned in, groaning in frustration. Michelle… with a boyfriend?

No way. I can’t even picture it.

To me, she’s always had this small-animal kind of cuteness. And now… a guy? With her?

"Even if we asked, she probably wouldn’t answer."

If she really got a boyfriend, she should’ve come and told me. I know we’re close enough for that.

So why didn’t she?

I frowned.

"…Harry, we’re going to expose the truth."

"Ex-expose? No, we can’t. We shouldn’t invade her privacy—"

I glared at his pathetic objection.

"I let it slide before, when Michelle didn’t want to talk about something. And because of that, I overlooked the fact she was suffering."

"…Gwen."

"I don’t ever want to feel like that again."

I clenched my fists tight.

Harry saw me like that, gasped softly… and nodded.

"Alright. I’ll help too."

"That’s the spirit… okay then… I’ll start by casually asking her things."

"Asking?"

"Indirectly. She might slip up."

"…Makes sense."

We started working out a plan together. I’d suggest, Harry would point things out, we’d refine it.

"If we figure out when she’s going on a date or something… we’ll tail her."

"T-Tail her? That’s stalking—"

"And you’d rather let Michelle fall into the clutches of some stranger we don’t even know?"

"C-clutches? N-no, that’s not okay… definitely not okay… but—"

"Then we’ve got no choice. Whoever it is trying to get their hands on Michelle—we’ll crush him."

I cracked my knuckles. Harry flinched a little at that.

"W-well… it’s not like he’s necessarily a bad guy, but…"

Those words never reached my ears.

---

『──That’s what happened.』

『Huh, Herman did that… kind of unexpected.』

『I think he had his own reasons. For me, I’m happy about it.』

In the darkness, the glow of a phone screen lit up.

『As for me… nothing particularly interesting happened.』

『Even so, I still want to hear it.』

『Alright. Today, I first──』

Messages flew back and forth.

Watching them, I couldn’t help but smile.

Before going to sleep, I exchanged messages with Peter. We told each other about our days, shared what happened… so even when we couldn’t meet, we could still feel connected.

Doing that warmed my chest. It reassured me that he truly loves me.

Peter said nothing much had happened, yet he still told me little stories about helping people.

Helping a painter working high up and getting treated to tacos, or helping an elderly woman cross the street—things like that.

They’re simple acts anyone could do. But there’s a world of difference between being able to and actually doing it.

He’s kinder and more proactive than anyone I know.

That makes me proud of him—and it makes me happy. Warmth spreads from deep inside my chest.

…But maybe that’s exactly why.

It scares me a little.

"…………"

I held the phone up in my hand. Lying on my back on the bed, I let the screen drift away from my face.

Peter is a good person. Handsome, kind, reliable. The perfect boyfriend.

And yet… precisely because of that…

Sometimes I wonder if it’s really okay for me to be his girlfriend.

It’s not that I dislike it. I want to be with Peter forever—that’s how I feel.

But what if someday, Peter finds a woman he loves more than me… what then?

Because he’s so kind, so bound by duty… I think he’d still put me first.

But even so──

『Tomorrow will be fun, Michelle.』

The message flashed across the screen.

Tomorrow is one of our twice-a-week dates. We’ll have dinner together… and tomorrow, we’ll see a movie.

Peter said he was looking forward to it.

The murky unease that had been festering deep in my heart dissolved away, and I found myself smiling.

『I’m looking forward to it too.』

I typed back, then flicked my finger across the screen once more.

『It’s getting late, so I’ll head to bed first.』

『Alright. Good night, Michelle.』

And then… a heart-stamped sticker popped up.

Peter doesn’t often say "I love you."

And I don’t say it often to Peter either.

We’re both shy… no, cowards really. So instead, Peter sends stickers like this, trying to cover up his embarrassment.

It’s his way of saying "I love you" with all he’s got.

I hugged the phone to my chest and rolled over in bed.

"…I really do love you."

I embraced the obvious truth, clutching my phone tight. Peter wasn’t there, but it still felt precious… so I held it close.

From the bottom of my heart, I felt at peace—like I could go on living tomorrow, and the day after.

"Peter…"

With no special reason, I just whispered his name, hugging the blanket tight.

My consciousness slipped into a haze.

Little by little, I sank into the world of sleep.

And I fell.

I don’t dream.

Even when I live within peace, I don’t dream.

Not good dreams, not bad dreams. The only things I see are fragments of the past.

I cannot dream. I’m not capable of it.

There is no "future that could have been." Only this world exists for me.

A world where I can be with the one I love. A happy reality.

I savored that thought, and fell asleep.

My awareness drifted down into darkness.

Even if I can’t dream… that’s fine.

---

I shut my smartphone and rolled onto the bed. The creak of the frame echoed in my ears. A draft seeped through the room, chilling the air.

When I closed my eyes… the first thing that floated into my mind was Michelle’s smile. Recently, she’s been able to smile more gently.

Just like before I lost my memories, she was still herself. Bit by bit, as if reclaiming what she’d forgotten, she’s been building new memories. Little by little, we’ve been able to do things that feel more like what couples do.

I clutched the frayed blanket in my hands.

Lately, I’ve been dreaming.

In those dreams, Gwen, Ned, and Harry are by my side… and life goes on just as it did before I lost my memories. But Michelle isn’t there.

That’s not a good dream—it’s a nightmare.

A world without her, and yet in it, I’m smiling.
…Not once do I feel envy for that version of me. The life I have now is far happier.

And yet… why do I keep seeing dreams like this?

Deep down, am I really that unfeeling? No… I want to believe that isn’t true.

The dreams keep coming.

Dreams where I become a CEO. Dreams where I’m a game programmer. Dreams where I build a family with some woman I don’t know. Dreams where I die.

They must be worlds of possibility. Dreams of what could exist for me.

But Michelle is never in them.

I hate that.

No matter what else I might lose, I never want to lose her again. Not ever.

I’m dreaming. Dreams of possible worlds without her.

But I don’t need those.

What I want… I already have.

And so, to make sure I never lose it…

I…

…………

Burying my unease, I sink into the dream I don’t even want to see.