Chapter 31: Birth of Black - Part 4

"What… so we won't be able to see each other for a whole month?"

I was stunned at the hospital.

Sitting on the bed in front of me was Gwen.

We were at NY Metropolitan Hospital. It had been four days since she was admitted. I came to visit again with Peter and Ned… so the four of us—me, Peter, Ned, and Gwen—were gathered in her hospital room.

"Yeah. Apparently, they've found a new treatment method… If it goes well, I might even be able to move my legs again. But I'll have to transfer to a much bigger hospital, so I won't be able to see anyone for a month."

It was great news that she might be cured… but the thought of not seeing her for a whole month made me feel a little lonely.

"Hey, Michelle, will you cheer me on?"

Of course, if she asks me that, I can only nod. I want to do whatever I can to help make her future better. I’ll support her—no question.

"Yeah, I’ll cheer you on. I want you to do your best."

When I nodded and held Gwen’s hand, she smiled.

"I’ll be back by summer break… and if the treatment works, let’s go on a summer trip to Miami Beach."

"Yeah."

"I even bought a swimsuit, so we have to go out and use it."

"…Yeah."

Gwen spoke so cheerfully about the future. She seemed full of hope.

I really liked seeing her like that. The other day, she had put on a brave front, hiding her pain and trying to act tough… but today, it looked like she was genuinely happy from the bottom of her heart.

I found myself smiling and nodding along naturally.

…Even though I hate wearing swimsuits in public. I seriously hate it. It’s just too embarrassing. I don’t mind if Gwen or Peter or Ned sees me, since they’re friends. But strangers… that’s a bit much.

So there we were: an unusually cheerful Gwen, and me, just nodding along.

Peter and Ned were watching us from a distance.

"…Hey, Gwen?"

"What?"

"Uh, those two…"

"Ah, don’t worry about those nerds. We’re so close they can’t butt in—typical loner types."

That was unnecessarily harsh, so I glanced at the two behind us. Ned didn’t seem able to talk back strongly, probably because she was injured.

After that, the four of us shared a fruit platter that Harry had brought earlier that morning as a get-well gift.

Apparently, Harry had been dropping by pretty often. Gwen said he was welcome, but also added, “He doesn’t have to come that much, though…” It seemed like their conversations had started flowing more smoothly recently, and whatever tension they had before was gone.

Yeah. Gwen has good judgment, and Harry’s a decent guy—so that made sense.

I was the one who cut the fruit. I’m good with knives. I use them so often that it’d be weird if I wasn’t good with them.

Still…

Lately, Gwen’s physical affection—let’s call it “skinship”—had gotten a little intense. If I were a guy, I might’ve gotten the wrong idea.

…Though, if I were a guy, we probably wouldn’t be all over each other like this to begin with.

"By the way, Flash and Liz and the rest came to visit, too. Yesterday."

""Huh?""

I could understand other classmates dropping by, but Flash? That was unexpected. Guess he had a sensitive side I didn’t know about.

"Maybe Flash’s had a change of heart recently… He’s become a surprisingly decent guy."

"Huh…?"

I couldn’t really relate, so I just gave a noncommittal reply.

"Peter, you’d better stay on your toes. Harry’s around too, after all."

…Huh? Why are Peter and Harry being brought up here?

Peter suddenly panicked and tried to interrupt Gwen.

"H-Hey, Gwen—!"

"What? I hit the mark, didn’t I? Having too many rivals is tough."

Gwen jabbed Peter in the ribs with a grin.

…Wait, could it be?

Harry, Flash, and Peter all like…

…Gwen?

"I see."

I crossed my arms and nodded.

It made sense—Gwen is extremely charming. She’s cute, stylish, has a great figure, is cool, and kind, too.

Feeling satisfied with that reasoning, I turned to Peter.

"Peter, leave the love support to me."

As I clenched my fist with determination, the three of them all gave me indescribable looks.

Then Gwen let out a sigh and spoke.

"…Michelle, you know…"

"Yeah?"

"You’re smart, but… you’re kinda clueless sometimes."

"Yeah?"

For some reason, I’d just been branded an airhead.

…Communication with people is hard.

That’s what I thought.

After about two hours of talking in the hospital room, it was time to leave, and we started helping Peter and Ned pack up the stuff they had brought.

These were items that Gwen’s father, George Stacy, had asked them to bring—things like a spare toothbrush, a change of clothes, that sort of thing.

The underwear wasn’t in the bags Peter and Ned were carrying, though.

That was in my possession.

Because I couldn’t let the boys carry that… Huh?

Wait, doesn’t that technically disqualify me too…? No, I’m not saying that.

Biologically, I’m a girl.

So it’s not a problem.

"Hey, Michelle."

After Peter and Ned left the room, Gwen called out to stop me.

"Yeah? What is it, Gwen?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything—not just one thing."

"Thanks."

Gwen took a deep breath and looked like she was steeling herself.

"So…"

"Yeah?"

"Just hypothetically, okay?"

"Okay."

"If I were to become… someone different from who I’ve been up until now… would you still be my friend?"

"Of course. No question."

It was a vague question.

But I could tell it came from a place of uncertainty, so I answered her with full confidence.

No matter what happens, I’ll always be on Gwen’s side.

Even if, say… one day it came down to either Gwen or me having to die… I’d choose to die myself, without hesitation.

"Thank you. …Yeah, that’s all. Thanks for coming today, really."

"I had a great time too. …Even if we won’t see each other for a month now."

"It’s okay! I’ll definitely get better, just watch!"

We hugged each other tightly before parting.

It wasn’t a goodbye forever.

As long as we’re alive, and we keep wishing for it, we can meet again as many times as we want.

I waved and left the hospital room.

I'm Harry Osborn—and little by little, just a little at a time, I’ve started to pull myself together.

I opened my diary in the study at home.

It’s the diary I’ve been writing ever since my father bought me one when I was a kid.

I flipped through the past entries.

A few days ago.

I talked with Michelle... and she helped mend things between me and Gwen, who had been one of my father’s victims.

Gwen’s a genuinely kind girl, and we got along right away.

...And that’s exactly why I can’t forgive my father—or rather, the being that drove him insane: the "Green Goblin."

I admire him.

...No, that’s not right.

I hate him.

There’s no admiration at all.

My father’s physical abilities were enhanced by the chemicals, but his mind was corrupted.

As a result, his desires grew unchecked—he hurt people, stole from them, spread misery wherever he went.

How envious I am of that.

No.

That’s not what I want.

Losing control of your mind, going on a rampage like a wild animal... how freaking cool is that.

No. No. No.

"I" want that.

"I" will take everything I desire.

It’s impossible.

There are limits to what a person can do.

"I" have no such limits.

Even Gwen—I want to ruin her.

She believes in me, so I want to see that belief twisted into pain.

No, no, no, no—

"No!"

I slammed the desk to scatter my thoughts.

The diary flipped open.

On the exposed page was a grotesque drawing of a demonic goblin, the kind of thing you’d black out with a pen.

I had no memory of ever drawing something like that.

That day—since the day my father died—something evil, magnificent, and cool took root in my heart.

It’s been eating away at my thoughts.

When no one else is around, the demon whispers to me:

"Avenge him."
"Take revenge."

...But that’s impossible.

I don’t even know who killed him.

No clue.

All the paper said was that his corpse—having escaped prison—was found at an abandoned station.

Even the police are still trying to figure it out.

I...

"Is something troubling you?"

I turned around.

It was Beck, the servant I’d recently hired.

After my father’s rampage, most of the staff fled the mansion.

The Osborn family is like a sinking ship. It’s only natural people would want to abandon it.

That’s why I brought in new help.

"...Sorry. It’s nothing. I’m fine."

"Is that so? To me, it looks like something’s weighing on you..."

As he spoke, Beck dusted the windowsill.

He claims to have been my father’s friend.

Claims—so I don’t know if it’s true.

But he said he helped my father during a particularly dark time.

"...No, telling you wouldn’t change anything."

I closed the open diary and locked it in the desk.

There’s even a cipher lock on it, so no one can read it.

...Even after a short while, Beck didn’t leave the room.

"...What is it? Something wrong?"

"Yes... There’s something I’d like you to see."

As he said that, Beck pulled out a large tablet.

...There shouldn’t be any place in a servant’s uniform to hide something like that.

The oddity made me frown.

"...Where did you pull that from?"

"Before that, there’s something I must apologize to you for, Master Harry."

"What do you mean...?"

I scowled at his words, which felt far too out of character for a servant.

"I’ve been calling myself a 'servant'—but that was a lie. The truth is... I’m a magician."

"...Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all. I'm being completely serious."

With a snap of Beck’s fingers, the tablet in his hand vanished, and a projector appeared in the center of the room.

"This is..."

"There’s something I absolutely must show you."

As he declared this, the projector cast an image onto the white wall of the study.

It was surveillance footage from a rundown, abandoned train station.

"...No way..."

I was in shock.

Because what I saw just now—was the truth behind my father’s death, something even the police hadn’t uncovered.

"Horrible, isn’t it?"

My father had been beaten again and again, brutalized, and finally, his throat was slit and he died.

Even if he had lost himself to drugs, he was still my father.

The reality was so gruesome, I couldn't suppress my rage.

"It can’t be... him..."

In the footage, along with my father, was—

"Spider-Man killed my dad...?!"

It was Spider-Man.

The man who had raised me alone after my mother died... was mercilessly beaten, mocked as he begged for his life, and then killed.

That’s what the footage showed.

"Ah... how terrible. Norman was a remarkable man. And yet, he was executed—killed in cold blood despite surrendering, despite pleading for his life..."

"...Ugh... damn it..."

Someone was whispering to me.

It was my father’s voice.

Avenge me.
Revenge.
Take vengeance.
Kill the spider.

"I feel the same. You're not the only one burning with rage against him. I wish to join you... to strike Spider-Man down."

Strike him down!
Kill him!

"...Strike... kill..."

‘I’ repeated the words.

My father’s hatred stirred something inside me.

This was what ‘I’ was meant to do.

"Rest assured, we're not alone. There are others... others who want revenge on Spider-Man, just like you."

Beck smiled with a theatrical flourish.

Seeing him like that, I began to wonder who Beck really was.

Surely, the face he’d shown me until now was just another mask.

"...Beck. Who are you?"

And so I asked.

"Me? I am—"

Beck snapped his fingers again. A green cloud enveloped his body.

"Call me... Mysterio."

Came the muffled voice.

But Beck’s face was no longer there.

Standing in his place was a man in a green costume, with a spherical helmet that reflected everything around it.