Chapter 84: My Love, Your Love – Part 2

In front of me sat a ghost-shaped cake.

A cute, popular design—a little white sheet draped over like a classic ghost.

When I slid the fork in… the cross-section was revealed.

Layers of sponge and cream stacked beautifully.

And the “white sheet” draped over it wasn’t fondant, but a crepe made without eggs.

It had been dusted with powdered sugar for color, and its eyes and mouth were drawn with chocolate sauce.

Visually? A perfect 10.

Completely fitting for a Halloween party, and without trying too hard—it was a simple, classic design.

Both cute and elegant.

But what about the taste?

I lifted a forkful to my mouth.

…The cream was only lightly sweet, while the sponge was baked a bit on the sweeter side.

Eaten alone it might feel too sugary, but that wasn’t the main player here.

The star was the white crepe itself.

As you’d expect from one made without eggs, the flavor was mild… almost delicate.

The faint sweetness of the powdered sugar gave it a gentle finish, and together with the cream and sponge it balanced into just the right amount of sweetness.

And then there was the chocolate sauce used for the ghost’s face.

That added the perfect accent.

The richness of the milk cream paired with a hint of bittersweet chocolate—sweet, but not cloying.

Amazing.

This cake was seriously delicious.

Far better than the ones you’d buy at any store.

So this is what it’s like—the kind of first-class sweets the rich get to enjoy.

I’m jealous.

I lifted my fork again—

“Michelle.”

I turned, fork still in my mouth.

Standing there was the host of the party, Harry.

“Hahhryhh?”

“Heh, swallow first. I can wait.”

I quickly chewed down the cake—no, savored it, then swallowed.

And only then did I notice Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“Huh? Where’s Peter?”

“...He’s, let’s see. Stepped away for a bit—had something to take care of.”

“Something to take care of…?”

What kind of errand could that be?

…Harry knows Peter is Spider-Man.

If he left me on my own, it’s probably something related to that.

“Anyway, are you enjoying the party? …Looks like you are.”

Harry’s gaze shifted to the cake in front of me.

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me, I’m really glad I came.”

When I smiled, Harry brought a hand to his mouth and glanced away.

“…What is it?”

He looked back at me with a small smile.

Yeah, his usual charming one.

“It’s just… been a while since I last saw you, Michelle. Guess I got a little carried away.”

“…Huh?”

I let out a wry laugh at his smooth words.

He probably says stuff like that to everyone.

Harry picked up a drink from the table and took a sip.

Then, giving me a quick glance, he spoke again.

“…When my father was arrested, I never thought I’d be able to bounce back like this.”

His eyes drifted toward the party guests, laughing and chatting happily.

…When Norman was arrested, Oscorp’s business had to have taken a huge hit.

But Harry… even though he’s still young, he worked hard to regain everyone’s trust.

He once fell into becoming the Goblin, but he managed to pull himself back.

Now he’s walking a proper path, as a decent man.

Breaking free of the curse of being a villain, and moving forward.

I can’t help but respect him a little.

“…That’s because of your hard work, Harry. I think it’s really impressive.”

I spoke honestly, from the heart.

At that, Harry lowered his brows.

“No… I couldn’t have done it alone. It was thanks to you, Michelle—you were the one who set me straight.”

“Me…?”

I set my empty plate down on the table and crossed my arms.

Wh-when did I say something like that?

I don’t remember… maybe I’ll just pretend I forgot.

“Sorry, Harry… I don’t remember.”

“Heh, I figured. To you, it probably wasn’t anything special.”

He didn’t sound upset.

He didn’t even sound disappointed.

Harry just laughed softly, looking genuinely happy.

“Oh, right—this afternoon we’re holding a costume contest. Would you like to join?”

“A contest?”

“Yeah. We’ve prepared a bunch of dresses and costumes inside the mansion… there should be plenty of people participating. I thought maybe you’d like to as well.”

“I…”

I suddenly remembered the Ghostface mask I wore the other day, the one Gwen flat-out rejected.

Her harsh words, and Peter’s uncomfortable reaction, all came rushing back.

The memory made me frown.

I’d developed a bit of a complex about it.

“I think… I’ll pass.”

“I see. Well, if you change your mind, just tell me anytime. I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Why is Harry so intent on getting me into a costume?

Does he already have some specific outfit he wants me to wear?

…Sorry, but I really don’t feel like dressing up.

“Mi—che—lle?”

As I was chatting, a voice called out from behind.

But it wasn’t Peter.

“Gwen?”

“Phew, I’m glad you actually made it… Wow, that dress is so cute!”

Gwen covered her mouth with her hand, circling around me.

She checked the dress from the front, the sides, even the back.

The dress was made by Tinkerer—bulletproof, stab-resistant—but on the outside, it looked just like a normal gown.

Nobody would ever suspect… though I still felt a bit nervous.

Meanwhile Gwen was laughing, full of excitement.

Then she pulled out her phone.

“Can I take a picture?”

“…I guess so.”

Click. A smiling photo.

Well—Gwen was the one smiling.

My own smile was stiff and awkward.

It felt off, when the photographer looked happier than the subject.

Then Gwen averted her gaze toward Harry.

“Harry, you too. Get in the picture.”

“M-me? With her?”

Flustered, Harry froze.

I stepped closer to him, within arm’s reach, leaning in just slightly as we both looked at Gwen.

Click. Another photo.

“Thanks, Michelle. I’ll send it to you later.”

“Mm.”

Then Gwen turned toward Harry.

“I’ll send you a copy too.”

And with that, she winked.

Overwhelmed by her energy, Harry gave a sheepish smile.

But then, something felt off.

I turned to Gwen with a question.

“Where’s Ned? Didn’t he come?”

If Gwen was allowed to bring a plus-one, surely she’d have invited Ned.

Yet she came in alone… So was he somewhere else in the mansion?

“…Huh? Now that you mention it… where is he?”

Gwen glanced around the room.

Then—“Oh!”—she spotted him.

I followed her gaze. There was Ned, dressed more stylishly than usual, chatting with a well-groomed man in a sharp purple suit.

When Gwen waved, Ned noticed and gave a polite nod before jogging over.

“Sorry, sorry… I was just in the middle of a conversation.”

“A conversation?”

Gwen tilted her head curiously.

“What kind of conversation?”

“Well… uh… wait, what was it again?”

His absent-minded reply made Gwen let out a heavy sigh.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Then, who were you talking to?”

“Uh… sorry, I don’t really remember.”

“You don’t remember that either? …Ned, are you running on no sleep or something?”

Another exasperated sigh from Gwen.

It was strange—how could he not know or remember anything?

I glanced back to where Ned had been.

The man in the purple suit was already gone.

Who on earth had that been?

As I puzzled over it, Harry stepped up to Ned and extended his hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Harry Osborn.”

“Uh, nice to meet you. I’m Ned… no, I mean, I’m Ned Leeds.”

While Harry and Ned exchanged their awkward greetings, Gwen leaned closer to me and struck up a conversation.

“Michelle, where’s Peter?”

“He said he had something to take care of.”

“…Hmm? Leaving you behind to run errands, huh?”

Gwen frowned.

For some reason, she looked genuinely annoyed at Peter.

Maybe I should stick up for him—poor guy.

“…Um, could you not be too hard on him?”

“Hm? Michelle, I’m not mad at Peter, you know?”

“You’re not?”

Ah. So I misunderstood.

“I’m just going to educate him a little.”

…Nope, guess I didn’t misunderstand after all.

I let out a wry smile and glanced around the room.

Where was Peter… ah, there.

Standing near one of the stone pillars by the Osborn estate.

I almost called out to him, but then I noticed—he wasn’t alone.

Someone was there beside him.

A man, with blond hair and blue eyes, not unlike mine.

He looked older than me, and was dressed in a sharp green suit.

…Who is that?

For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

I wanted to know right away.

Who was he?

He was—

“Michelle?”

A voice pulled me back.

I turned—it was Harry.

“Something wrong?”

“…No, nothing.”

I was definitely curious, but barging off to investigate while ignoring Harry and the others felt… rude.

And if that man in the green suit was really a guest, I’d have a chance to talk to him later.

So I tore my eyes away from the man standing with Peter.

---

“Then… why did you want to talk to me, Mr. Phineas?”

I asked the older man in the green suit standing before me—Phineas.

“You don’t need to call me mister. First names are fine. No need for formalities.”

Instead of answering my question, he said that.

“…But you’re older than me.”

“You’re polite… humility is a virtue.”

“…Thanks, I guess?”

“Well then, as for why I spoke to you… hmm.”

Phineas turned his gaze away from me—toward Michelle.

She was over there laughing with Harry, Gwen, and Ned.

…I’d much rather be over there with them.

But Phineas turned back to me with a question.

“That platinum-blonde girl—what’s your relationship with her?”

“Wh-what do you mean, relationship?”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

G-Girlfriend!?

“N-no, nothing like that… we’re just friends.”

“I see, friends, huh… hmm, is that so.”

Phineas smiled slyly.

“W-what is it?”

“You like her, don’t you?”

L-like her!?

“That’s… I mean, why would I have to tell that to someone I just met!?”

I tried to steady myself, responding coolly.

But again, Phineas gave me that mischievous grin.

“That reaction pretty much says ‘yes.’ You’ve got to work on your poker face.”

“Ugh…”

W-what is with this guy?

Is he just making fun of me?

“You’re not very good at hiding things, are you…? She might already know.”

“There’s no way…”

At least, I hoped not.

Because if Michelle had noticed… then it meant she’d been ignoring all my attempts from the very start.

It would mean she had no intention of letting things develop between us—no desire to close the distance herself.

I wanted to believe she didn’t know.

“Haha, that’s a great reaction. You really are interesting.”

“…Are you just teasing me?”

“Of course I am.”

Phineas laughed without a hint of guilt.

…For someone with such a strikingly handsome face, his personality was awfully childish.

That thought had barely crossed my mind when—

“Well then, how about we move on to something a little more serious… if you don’t mind.”

His expression suddenly shifted—dead serious.

“…What do you mean?”

“No need to get so tense. I just want to pose a little thought experiment.”

“A… thought experiment?”

I blinked, confused.

And once again, Phineas smiled that mischievous smile before speaking.

“You’ve heard of the trolley problem, haven’t you?”

“…Yeah, I know it.”

A runaway trolley is barreling down the tracks. Ahead of it are many people.

If it continues straight, they’ll all be killed.

But there’s a lever in my hand. If I pull it, the trolley will switch tracks.

The many people will be spared.

But on that side track… there’s one person.

And he will die.

“Do you let the many die?

Or do you pull the lever, and become the reason one person dies?

That’s the dilemma.”

Phineas nodded in satisfaction and spoke.

“I believe the one should be sacrificed to save the many… that’s the most rational choice. What about you?”

“…Why are you even asking me—”

“Tell me. What would you do?”

His sharp, unyielding gaze made me flinch.

…There isn’t a correct answer to this.

Only regret, no matter which path you choose.

…And yet, I said:

“I’d pull the lever.”

“…Then you’d sacrifice the one—”

“And then I’d do everything I could to save that one person too.”

“…Hm?”

“Being told to give one up… I just can’t accept that.”

My answer was nonsense.

Not right or wrong—just a refusal to play by the rules of the question. The worst possible answer.

“Pfft… haha… hahahaha.”

Phineas laughed at my reply.

Honestly, I expected to be mocked.

But his laughter wasn’t scorn—it was genuine amusement.

“Haha… yes, that’s interesting. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“…Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Of course. Because you would really try.”

“…Huh?”

Leaning back against the wall, Phineas nodded.

And then—

“Well then, what if that ‘one person’…

…was a terrible villain? Would you still save him?”

“I would.”

I didn’t even hesitate.

The answer was already set.

“Even if you couldn’t stop the trolley… and you yourself might be caught in it?”

“Yes.”

Phineas placed a hand to his face, studying me with puzzlement.

“And why is that? What drives you to such a choice?”

“…Because there’s no such thing as a person who deserves to die.”

At that, Phineas’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced.

So I went on.

“If someone commits a crime… they should atone for it while they live.”

“…I see.”

“Death as an ending—it’s just sad, nothing more. If I can save someone, then I want to save them… that’s what I believe.”

…And to that, Phineas laughed again—like he’d just found something truly fascinating.

"You seem to have a rather unique sense of values."

"Do I… really?"

"You should be proud of it. The person who raised you must have been extraordinary."

Uncle Ben’s face came to mind.
…More than being praised myself, I felt happier when Uncle was the one being praised.

Then, Phineas stepped away from the stone pillar and brushed the dust off his trousers.

"Well then, thanks for the pleasant conversation. I’ll be taking my leave here."

"Ah, right."

He was a strange person… but somehow, not someone I could dislike.

"Goodbye then… It was fun, Peter. If we meet again, I’ll be counting on you."

As Phineas turned his back and began to walk away—

—I felt a small pang of unease.

"Huh?"

How did he know my name?
I never told him… so why?

It bothered me, but I quickly convinced myself he must have overheard my conversation with Michelle.

Turning on my heel to rejoin Michelle and the others—

『My name is Flag-Smasher! This party venue is now under my control!』

A booming voice, likely amplified through a loudspeaker, rang in my ears.

Ah, come on. Really?

Does Spider-Man never get a vacation?

I slipped behind the rear of the Osborn estate and activated the wristwatch suit—wait.

It… didn’t activate.

A bead of cold sweat slid down my cheek.

N-no way… you’ve got to be kidding me!?

I pressed the button again, but nothing changed.

Broken…?
No, that couldn’t be.

I maintained it every single day, and the watch-suit was made of a special alloy.
There’s no way it could break under normal circumstances—so why now!?

"You there! What are you doing!?"

A man in a black mask leveled a gun at me.

---

"You all are going to be my hostages! Bargaining chips to use against the government!"

The one leading a group of men in black masks was… a man wearing a black mask himself, dressed in white-and-black tights, and a cloak that was black on the outside and crimson on the inside.

"My name is Flag-Smasher! All I wish is to destroy the foolish walls known as borders… Cooperate, and no harm will come to you. That, I promise."

He said it with a smile.

Not that I could believe him for a second… especially since our arms were already tied.

Michelle, Ned, Gwen, and Harry were being held in a separate spot.

…Gwen was close to Michelle and Ned.
That gave me some comfort. If something happened, she’d protect them.

The real problem was me.
Without being able to become Spider-Man right now, I had no idea what to do.

If my identity were exposed here in front of everyone… villains who despised Spider-Man would begin targeting the people important to me—Peter Parker’s loved ones.

That couldn’t happen.
If Ned or Michelle were ever hurt because of me…

It would be irreversible.
No amount of apologies would fix it. I would live with regret.

…Just like back when Norman threw Gwen off that building.
There was no guarantee I’d be able to save her again.

That’s why—unable to become Spider-Man right now—the only thing I could do was…

"You there. What do you think of borders?"

"Huh?"

Flag-Smasher was pointing… at me.

"What do I think…?"

"Don’t you find nationalism, the worship of nations, absurd? That where you’re born determines wealth, status, even your place in the world? Don’t you think it’s something to be spat upon?"

"That’s… not…"

"A weak answer. Are you a nationalist?"

And with that—

"Ugh!?"

He struck me.

My lip split, and blood splattered onto the floor.

Screams erupted around us.

I caught sight of Michelle… Gwen was covering her mouth.
…Good. If Michelle had drawn attention, she might’ve been the one hit.

"That’s when you’re supposed to say, ‘Yes, you’re right!’"

"Kh—!?"

A kick to my stomach.

The breath rushed out of me, coughing and gagging.

But still—I didn’t think of it as misfortune.
If anything, I was glad it was me who got hit.

It wasn’t that much damage, after all.

They said we were hostages.
That meant they couldn’t kill us recklessly.

"Tch!"

Flag-Smasher clicked his tongue at me, still crumpled on the floor.

Then he stepped in front of Harry.

"You’re the host of this party, aren’t you?"

"Y-yes."

He yanked Harry up onto his feet.

"We’re thirsty. Could you fetch us some drinks?"

"Understood. But… I can’t carry enough on my own. Could I take someone with me?"

"Hm… True enough. Then—"

"What about him? The one at your feet?"

Harry pointed… at me.

"He doesn’t have the strength to harm any of you. He’s safe."

"Hm. Very well… Get up!"

Flag-Smasher forced me to my feet, and I stood beside Harry.

"…You okay?"

He whispered under his breath.

I gave a silent nod.

"One of you, follow them. Don’t let them try anything."

Flag-Smasher gave a signal with his eyes, and one of the masked men fell in step behind us.

Harry and I left the garden, where the hostages were being kept, and stepped into the Osborn estate.

…What a disastrous day this had turned out to be.

We walked down a hallway laid with expensive carpet—when Harry suddenly stopped.

“…Around here, I think.”

He muttered it just loud enough for me to hear.

“Hey, why are you stopping—”

Harry raised one foot off the ground, pivoted sharply, and swung it around.

His roundhouse kick landed squarely against the man’s head.

“Gah—!”

Before he could cry out, the man collapsed, crashing into a chest that held a vase—

I rushed to catch him and dragged him into a nearby room, careful not to make a sound.

From my web-shooter I fired a quick shot of webbing, binding him in place.

…So the web-shooters still worked.
It was only the watch-suit that wouldn’t activate. Why?

But this wasn’t the time to figure it out.

“Harry.”

“Peter… why aren’t you becoming Spider-Man?”

Harry asked before I could even explain.

Resigned, I told him everything.

He frowned as he listened.

“…A malfunction?”

“I don’t know. Maybe something’s interfering with it…”

“Damn it… my plan was to free you so Spider-Man could save us.”

“S-sorry.”

I felt pathetic for apologizing, but the words slipped out anyway.

Harry pressed his hand to his cheek, then suddenly spoke up.

“Right… Five rooms down from here, there’s a set of costumes left over from a masquerade contest.”

“Costumes… I get it. I could use one to disguise myself.”

Exactly. A costume would let me hide my face and body well enough.

“That’s the idea. I’ll buy us as much time as I can… but get back here as fast as possible, okay?”

“Count on me.”

I slipped out of the room, running down the hall as quietly as I could.

One, two, three, four… here!

I pushed the door open and tumbled inside.

The room was larger than my entire apartment.
…That stirred some complicated feelings.

Along the walls stood massive clothing racks filled with costumes.

Werewolf. Gill-man. Superman.
All kinds of colors and styles.

But none of them looked like the cheap ones you’d find at a department store.

…Harry must have gone out of his way to buy proper ones.

No… on closer inspection, most of them weren’t new. Maybe they had always been here, part of the Osborn household.

If so… then perhaps they were Norman Osborn’s.
He had always loved Halloween.

I ran a hand along one of the racks, checking the costumes.

This one… seemed to be all women’s clothing.

There was even a black dress that looked like a wedding gown.
No way I could fight in that. I moved to the next rack.

Cloth rustled as I searched for something usable.
But everything I pulled out was too elaborate, too flashy.

This was turning into a problem.

I needed something for a man… something that covered skin, didn’t get in the way… There!

I yanked out a bodysuit.

It was made of black and blue fabric—

—and emblazoned across the chest was a large “4.”

“…Whoa. Fantastic Four…”

The Fantastic Four. A team of four superheroes.

The genius scientist who could stretch his body at will: Mr. Fantastic.

The invisible woman who could project force fields: Invisible Woman.

The man who burned like living fire: Human Torch.

And the rock-skinned powerhouse: The Thing.

Those four.

They were more than a team—they were close-knit.
Mr. Fantastic and Invisible Woman were husband and wife.
Human Torch and Invisible Woman were brother and sister.

Maybe that’s why… they all wore matching uniforms.
This very same blue-and-black bodysuit.

…And the one in my hands was probably just a replica.

I couldn’t help grimacing.
I mean, I knew them personally… and Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, was an arrogant jerk.

But I didn’t exactly have the luxury of being picky right now.

I tore off my own clothes and pulled the bodysuit on.

…A little loose, but manageable.

I slid black rubber gloves over my hands—good enough.

Now all I needed was something to cover my face…

I searched beneath the racks, around the room—

“…Nothing…”

No masks anywhere. Maybe they were stored in another room?

But I didn’t have time to go digging around. Every second counted.

That’s when I caught sight of a plain beige paper bag, sitting off to the side.
Probably the bag they’d used to carry one of these costumes.

…This would have to do.

I grabbed the bag—it was sturdier than it looked.

Then I snatched a pen from a clipboard hanging on the wall, punching out two holes where my eyes would go.

Finally, I pulled the paper bag down over my head.

And with that ridiculous disguise, I dashed out of the room.