Chapter 8: friendly neighborhood (Part 2)

“Phew.”

I let out a breath and sank into my chair, exhausted.

Sitting before me was an empty cup.

It had been a thank-you gift.

I traced my memory back.

Earlier today, as usual, I was out patrolling the city as Spider-Man.

That’s when I spotted a girl being threatened by a thug… Just like always, I stepped in to help.

But there was one thing that wasn’t so usual this time.

The girl I saved turned out to be my classmate, and the girl who lives in the room next to mine… Michelle Jane.

Michelle is… how should I put it—gorgeous, cute, and kind of stoic. Her expressions don’t change much, which makes her seem cool and composed… but she’s also got this subtle mischievous side.

She’s clearly smart too… which made me really anxious. I was nervous the whole time we talked, worried she might figure out who I was.

And then, just before we parted ways, she gave me what was probably her dessert for the night—a cup of almond tofu—as a thank-you.

“Thanks.”

“…For helping me. It’s a thank-you.”

Ugh.

I covered my mouth with my hand.

They say beautiful people look like they stepped out of a painting, but when a beautiful girl does something cute… it’s way more captivating than any picture.

Anyway, yeah—I was just kind of stunned.

I set the empty almond tofu cup down on the table.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell rang.

Who could it be? At this hour?

I glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall—the hour hand pointed squarely at 9 PM.

Puzzled, I opened the door—and there she was.

“Michelle?”

“…Sorry to drop by so late, Peter.”

Huh? Why?

Was it about earlier?

Wait, did she figure out I’m Spider-Man?

No, but still…

“A-anyway, come on in. No sense standing around in the hallway.”

“Thanks.”

And just like that, Michelle stepped into the room—ah.

My eyes landed on the table.

The empty cup was still there—the same one Michelle had handed to Spider-Man.

…Thankfully, it looked like she hadn’t noticed yet.

I quickly, but as naturally as I could, moved in front of her.

“S-so? What brings you here?”

“It’s about what happened today…”

“T-today?”

I stretched my hand back toward the empty cup, trying desperately to reach it, but it was just out of grasp.

Through the reflection in the glass window behind Michelle, I could see… Nope. Not even close.

“Yeah. Today… something really scary happened…”

Michelle began to recount what had happened earlier—how she was attacked by those guys in tracksuits, and how Spider-Man had saved her.

I nodded along, pretending to listen, while still struggling to somehow get rid of the cup.

“And then…”

The moment Michelle’s eyes dropped, her gaze shifting downward—

I activated the web-shooter on my arm, setting it to minimum power, and reeled in the cup.

With a flick, I launched it straight into the trash bin beside the desk.

Clunk.

“…Huh? Was that a noise just now?”

She’d heard it.

Michelle looked suspicious.

“P-Probably just something falling from the wind?”

“But… we’re indoors.”

“Haha, well… this apartment’s pretty run-down. Could’ve been a draft knocking something over?”

I forced a laugh, trying not to let my unease show.
Michelle tilted her head slightly, watching my suspicious behavior.

“Haha, s-so… what were we talking about again?”

I’d been so flustered a moment ago, I’d heard her talking but hadn’t really processed the details.
Now, unable to follow the conversation, I ended up asking a stupid question.

Michelle’s eyebrows seemed to draw together faintly.

“…Peter, you weren’t listening, were you?”

“N-No, no, I was! You said Spider-Man saved you, right? Lucky break, huh.”

“…Well, whatever.”

She looked a little annoyed, but even now, her expressions barely changed.
If I didn’t watch carefully, I’d probably miss when she was actually upset.

“…Peter, I wanted to ask you for something.”

“O-Oh? If it’s something I can do, just say the word.”

Michelle hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

“Peter. I want you to go out with me.”

Huh?
Go out?
Michelle… with who?
Me?

“Eh?”

“…It’s just that, not being able to go out for food at night’s been a problem. I want dinner… but there’s no kitchen here, so I have to go buy something. But when I tried to go alone, they got mad at me, said it was dangerous.”

Ah.

“So… I want you to come with me when I go out at night.”

“Ah. Yeah.”

Yeah… I kinda figured it’d be something like that.
Of course.
We’ve only known each other for, what, a week?
We barely know anything about each other.

Though… I guess, maybe I’m still kind of happy.

But if she ever found out what sort of stupid thoughts I just had, she’d probably be disgusted.

“…Is that okay? Thanks.”

Wait—did I just agree without thinking?
Well… not like I mind, but…
But still…

“You sure? I don’t think I’m all that reliable.”

When I said that, self-deprecating as usual, Michelle just blinked at me.
Like she had no idea what I was talking about.

“Peter, earlier today… when Flash was picking on me at school. You helped me.”

“Ah… well… I didn’t really manage to help, though.”

Her eyebrows lowered slightly, and the corners of her mouth lifted… just a little.
Michelle smiled. Barely.

“But to me, Peter, you’re a hero. You helped me. So there’s no way you’re unreliable.”

She… wasn’t looking at Spider-Man.
She was relying on me—Peter Parker.

That’s… never happened before.

“…Or do you not really want to be around me, Peter?”

“N-No, it’s not like that.”

“Not like that?”

“…I mean, I don’t.”

“Good.”

Michelle stood up and placed her hand on the door.

“Then… see you tomorrow. At school.”

“Ah… yeah. See you tomorrow…”

The door shut with a soft thud.

And I collapsed onto my bed.

I couldn’t think straight anymore. Everything was just… too much.

---

“Alright.”

I clenched my fist in a silent victory pose inside my room.
With this, I could make up reasons to be with Peter anytime I wanted.

I’ve always loved Spider-Man. Even back in my previous life.

Failing again and again, hitting walls, getting knocked down.
And yet, every time, standing back up and fighting—winning in the end.

I loved that about him.

To me, Spider-Man wasn’t just someone I admired.
If he existed not as a comic book character, but in reality… he’d be like an idol to me.

I wanted to know him. Talk to him. Be involved with him.
That desire just kept growing without end.

And if I kept getting closer to Peter… one day, he might find out.
Find out that I’m the kind of person who’d kill for her own sake—a worthless villain.

Even so.

Even if, in this world, I was a “villain.”

I couldn’t suppress these feelings.

“So selfish… so thoughtless.”

I judged myself harshly, burying my body in the blanket.

I remembered Peter’s panicked expression from earlier.

The cup I gave him was still sitting on his desk, wasn’t it?
He even panicked enough to cover it up with his web.

“…Heh.”

He thinks so little of himself… but there’s no way that’s true.
Because even without superpowers, his kindness and sense of responsibility don’t change.

…But me…

“No, I’m not like that.”

My gaze flicked to the bookshelf standing against the wall.
I’d put it there to make the room feel more lived-in.
Most of the books on it weren’t even ones I cared about.

And yet, one title caught my eye.

‘Icarus.’

A book on Greek mythology.

I’d never actually read it.
But I knew the story of Icarus.

The fool who flew too close to the sun, melted his wax wings, and fell to his death.

“…What a bad omen.”

If I’m the one getting too close to a hero, only to fall and die…

Well.
Maybe that’s exactly what I want.
If I’m going to die, then I want to die properly. As a villain. Defeated by a hero.

Suddenly, the device the organization had given me lit up, vibrating.

I picked it up and checked the screen.

As expected, what appeared was an encrypted message.

Attack.
Detected.

I narrowed my eyes, scanning the text.

Hell’s Kitchen.
Attacker: Frank Castle.

And then, my eyes widened.

“Frank…”

That guy…

I connected the device to the network and searched his name.

“…I knew it.”

What came up were old cases.

Assault.
Murder.

Multiple criminal records.
But his victims weren’t civilians.

He was a killer who hunted down mafia, gangs, and criminals.
His methods: shooting, bludgeoning, bombing.
The bodies were often so badly mutilated that identification was delayed.

A few years ago, he was arrested and sentenced to death.

But… he escaped.

Meaning, he’s out here now—outside the cage, just like us.

And then, I found one photo.

A jacket as black as night.
And that glaringly white skull emblem.

I knew it.

“…The Punisher.”

That was the name of that dark hero.