Chapter 86: My Love, Your Love – Part 4

He’s gone.

The man in the green suit I had been looking for… he had already disappeared.

“…………”

With this many people, and all this noise, it’ll be almost impossible to find him.

I could just ask Peter for his name later… then trace it back through Harry’s ledgers if I need to.

Resigning myself, I glanced at the row of white tables set up in the garden.
Now they were a pitiful sight, toppled and broken.

The cake that had once sat on top was covered in dirt and dust, far beyond salvaging.
Ah… what a waste.

I sighed and gave up on searching for him.
Turning on my heel, I started back toward Peter—

And then I realized.
A man was watching me.

A man in a purple suit.
Black hair slicked straight back, his presence cold and deliberate.
The same man I had seen speaking with Ned.

Suspicion flickered, but I’m well aware that my looks tend to draw attention.
I assumed it was nothing more than that.

So I kept walking—

“Excuse me. I’d like a word with you.”

The purple-suited man had addressed me.

I was about to refuse—

About to nod with a smile—

About to agree, ready to do anything for him—

I—

Suddenly, my mind cleared.
As though overwritten, the fog inside me evaporated.

It was enough for me to know something strange had just happened.
But what, exactly? I couldn’t tell.
Nor why I noticed it, or what had broken the spell.

Still suspicious, I shook my head.

“Sorry. I’m meeting someone.”

At that, the man in the purple suit looked… deeply shocked.

“I see… but even just a moment. I want to speak with you.”

Our eyes met.
Eyes that sought to pry open my heart, to invade without permission.
I felt sick. I wanted to get away from him right now.

“Sorry.”

I averted my gaze, turning my face away.

“At least tell me your name—”

I ignored the voice that called after me.
I didn’t know who he was.

But being near him made my skin crawl.
From the depths of my soul, I wanted nothing more than to be away from him.

So I didn’t stop walking.

I walked a little farther.
Away from the crowds.
Until I reached the shadow of the Osborne estate.

The noise of the party dulled, and for a moment, I felt silence.

I turned around.

No one was there.
The man in the purple suit was gone.

I let out a deep breath of relief and crouched down.

“…Who was that?”

I pressed a hand to my head.
My brain, my memories… the warped fragments of a previous life.
As though sealed away, locked in a box that couldn’t be opened without a key.

At that moment, standing before that man in purple, I had glimpsed the box’s outline.

Without the key, I couldn’t know what was inside.
But I felt as though I knew him somehow.

The man in the purple suit.

Just that keyword, just that image, wasn’t enough to reveal his identity.
But what I felt was hatred.
Of one thing I was certain: he was no good man.

A figure from within the comics, suddenly manifest in reality.
Without the thread to connect them, I couldn’t be sure.

Should I have pressed him further?
Drawn out some information, tried to uncover who he really was?

“…Tch.”

The curse slipped from my lips before I realized it.
Not something “Michelle Jane” would say.
But I wasn’t calm enough to care.

Regret wouldn’t help me now.
I had to go back immediately, find out who he was.

Because there was no guarantee he wouldn’t hurt someone important to me.

If he did, tearing him apart would be easy.
But wounds, once inflicted, don’t just heal.

Things wouldn’t conveniently resolve the way they had with Gwen.
In this world, even if someone cries out for help, a hero won’t always come.

I know that better than anyone.

Slowly, I stood, and turned back toward the square.

With my vision sharpened by the super-soldier serum, I spotted him in the distance.

But the man was already stepping into a taxi.

…Am I too late?

Panic rose in me, and I started toward him—

“Michelle?”

A voice called out.

I am Michelle Jane.
An ordinary girl in New York who knows nothing.
At least, that’s the mask I wear.

Immediately, I adjusted my expression.
And turned toward the voice.

“What is it, Harry?”

I returned Harry’s words with a faint smile.

“No, I was just… Sorry, were you in a hurry?”

“…No. I’m not.”

The taxi carrying the man had already left.
Chasing him now was impossible.

I had no choice but to give up.

With a soft exhale, I asked Harry,

“Harry? So, did you need something?”

“No… not really. I just wanted to talk to you for a bit.”

“…Is that so?”

Somehow—no, I had already noticed it.
Harry held feelings for me.
Whether they were friendship, fondness, or love, I couldn’t say.

“Ah, well—”

Unable to think of what to say, Harry looked away… and noticed the cake lying on the ground.

“There’s still cake left inside the house. I thought maybe… if you’d like some?”

“…Mm, I could go for cake.”

I agreed and followed Harry.
Not because I was lured in by cake.
I’m not that cheap.

No, it was simply that—if he wanted to talk, then I could at least oblige him.

Though, I did wonder just how much cake was left.

We entered the Osborne estate. My eyes roamed over the luxurious interior until we arrived at a spacious kitchen.

“Ah…”

On a silver counter sat cakes sealed in plastic covers.
Plenty of them.

Bavarois, ganache, Sachertorte, tiramisu, Forêt Noire, tart.
The glittering sight lifted my mood immediately.

So much that I couldn’t stop my cheeks from softening.

Looking to the side, there were hors d’oeuvres too.
Potatoes and such.
Utterly unimportant.

“We didn’t bring these outside, but we had lots prepared.”

“I see…”

Embarrassed that my excitement might show, I nodded carefully.
But Harry, watching me, smiled in amusement.

“…What?”

“No, nothing at all.”

He smiled again. I didn’t really understand him.

“After what happened, the party’s ending anyway. Throwing this out would be a waste, so I thought we’d box them up and hand them out to guests… What do you think?”

“…I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

I leaned closer, eyes on the fondant chocolat.
Right now, I wanted nothing more than to plunge a fork in and drown myself in the molten chocolate.

“Michelle, you really do love cake, don’t you?”

Harry said it gently.

I turned my head, smiling faintly.

“Yeah. Not just cake—anything sweet, really. What about you, Harry?”

“Me? I…”

Harry placed a hand on the sink and sighed.
The metal wall fogged white with his breath, blurring his reflection.

“I like them too.”

“Then—”

“And I like you.”

The softly spoken words made me catch my breath.

“…I guess I like you too, Harry.”

I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard.
But I chose to pretend I misunderstood—that my “like” was friendship.

Even so, my voice trembled.

Harry turned toward me.
Our eyes met.

“I like you as a man likes a woman.”

At those words, I—

“…I’m sorry.”

Apology was all I could give.

I lowered my gaze.
I couldn’t face him.

I couldn’t return his feelings.
I’m sorry.

I’m not someone worthy of your love.
I’m sorry.

I deceived you.
I’m sorry.

My mouth was dry.

Though only seconds had passed, it felt as though hours had gone by.

“It’s alright… I should apologize, for saying something like that.”

Harry was the one who broke the silence.
I lifted my face and looked at him.

…His brows were lowered in sadness, yet his expression seemed oddly clear, almost relieved.

“No, it’s me—”

“No, Michelle, you’re not at fault.”

“I—”

“I—”

Our voices overlapped.
And then, both of us fell silent.

The awkwardness lingered… until Harry gave a small laugh.

“After saying all that, it feels strange to ask, but… can we still be friends?”

“Of course.”

I nodded, and he let out a deep breath, as though a weight had lifted.

“I’m glad… I was afraid you might hate me.”

At that, I tilted my head.

“Even if someone tells me they like me… I don’t think I could ever hate them for it.”

“…That’s just because you’re kind.”

Harry nodded, his lips softening into a smile.
Then, he turned his eyes toward the kitchen door.

“Shall we go back to the garden? Peter’s probably waiting for you.”

“…You’re right.”

Yes, Peter.
He should still be outside, waiting for me.

“And here, take this… You can do whatever you like with it.”

Harry handed me a cup of cake.
I instinctively accepted it.

My fingers brushed his hand—it was warm.

I stepped back through the doorway we had entered from… then turned to look at him.
He hadn’t moved from where he stood.

“…What about you, Harry?”

“I’ll stay here a little longer. I need to speak with the staff as well.”

Harry said it with a refreshing smile.

Ah… good.
For a moment I had feared I’d hurt him beyond repair by rejecting his feelings—

But no.
He was hurt.

He just didn’t show it.
The hand gripping the edge of the sink was trembling.

And yet, I couldn’t comfort him.
I had no right to.

“Harry, I’ll go on ahead.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

“…I understand.”

I left the kitchen and walked down the corridor.
Heading back to the square… my pace quickening.

“Ha… ha…”

My breath came hard—not from exhaustion, but from the storm inside me.
Self-loathing, unease, guilt toward Harry, regret… the emotions weighed heavy on me.

But none of this was Harry’s fault.
He had only done something natural.

He confessed his feelings to someone he liked.

The problem was me.

I deceived him, drew out his feelings, and left him hurt.

“Ugh…”

I let out a long breath, sitting down outside the Osborne estate.
Self-loathing weighed heavily on my chest.

But I had to pull myself together.
I had to return to being “Michelle Jane.”
No one could see me like this.

Especially—

“Michelle?”

Especially not him.
Not Peter.

---

Michelle had gone off to look for someone… and quite a bit of time had passed.

Just standing around waiting was boring, but wandering off from here also felt like a hassle.

So I grabbed a drink from one of the tables Harry had prepared—the kind still covered with a lid and untouched.
I stuck a straw in and took a sip… a sweet-and-sour tang spread across my tongue.

It felt like it seeped right into my tired brain.

I finished it off and set it back down on the table—

“Hey, Peter. You seen Michelle?”

“Whoa!”

Ned had spoken to me out of nowhere.
Gwen was right beside him.

Startled, I nearly dropped the cup.

“What the heck.”

“I should be asking you that. Why’re you so jumpy?”

“…You tired or something?”

“…Yeah, kinda.”

Ned looked at me with concern, and I nodded.
Tired? Of course I was tired.
I’d been running around like crazy today.

Then Gwen cut in, looking distinctly annoyed.

“So? Where’s Michelle? Weren’t you with her?”

“Michelle went off to look for someone.”

“Someone? Who?”

“I dunno… she didn’t say.”

Thwack.
The sound of Gwen’s kick hitting my backside.

“Ow—!”

“Escorting her was your job! What are you doing standing around like an idiot?”

“W-Well, yeah, but—”

“What? Got an excuse?”

“N-No…”

Beside her, Ned muttered a quiet “yikes,” only for Gwen to whip her head around and glare at him.
Terrifying.

“Uh—I-I’ll just… go look for Michelle.”

Honestly, part of me was worried about Michelle, but another big part just wanted to escape Gwen’s wrath.
So I slipped away, pushing through the crowd.

I pictured her dress in my mind, scanning around… but she was nowhere.

The small worry in my chest began to grow.

C-Could something really have happened?
No, it couldn’t be. This party was full of security, and everyone here was supposed to be connected to the Osborns—decent people.

Or so I thought… but unease gnawed at me as I kept searching.
And that’s when I realized Harry wasn’t around either.

…Maybe she’s inside the Osborne mansion?

I hurried toward the entrance—
And that’s when I saw her.

Michelle.
Huddled on the ground, crouched low.

I rushed over in a panic and called her name.

“Michelle?”

When she lifted her face and looked at me—
She was crying.

“…Peter?”

Her voice trembled.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Did something bad happen to you—?”

“I… nobody’s done anything bad to me.”

Her words were a denial.

“Then, why…?”

“Because… I hurt someone.”

At those words, I realized what she meant.

Harry, huh?
He must have confessed… and she must have turned him down.

Harry was hurt, and realizing that, she’s hurting too.

But that’s—

“It’s not your fault…”

“…What?”

My mutter must not have reached her.
To turn someone down… and then suffer because they were hurt—that’s only because she’s too kind. Deep down, she doesn’t ever want to hurt anyone.

“So… when you say you hurt someone, you mean Harry?”

“…You know about it?”

“I don’t, but… I had a feeling.”

“…I see.”

Michelle was about to sink into silence again, so I hurried to speak.

“Michelle, what happened?”

When I asked, she looked conflicted for a moment… and then began to speak.

“Harry told me… that he likes me.”

“…I see.”

So he really did confess.
But judging by her expression, the answer he wanted… wasn’t what he got.

“I turned him down… and Harry looked really hurt.”

“…I see.”

“It’s my fault…”

Michelle’s eyes were wet with tears.

I sat down beside her.
She looked a little startled, and our eyes met.

I repeated myself.

“That’s not your fault, Michelle.”

“No… I trampled on his feelings…”

I couldn’t help sighing, then gave a small laugh.

“That’s not true. Harry doesn’t think you hurt him. Nobody blames you… nobody thinks you did something wrong.”

“…And that’s what I hate.”

“Huh?”

Her reply slipped out so unexpectedly, I couldn’t help but react.

“No one blames me… but I’m not some good girl. I’m not…!”

That was the inferiority, the guilt she had always carried.
From the first time we met, her self-esteem had been low.

But it wasn’t just ‘low’—it was pathologically so. She constantly spoke of herself as if she were worthless.

And yet… I couldn’t bear to hear Michelle put herself down any further—

“You’re wrong.”

I denied her words… because I wanted to affirm her.

“Wrong? About what…?”

“No matter how harshly you talk about yourself… we’ll still see you as a good person.”

“Why…?”

“Because that’s how we feel. A person’s worth isn’t decided by themselves alone. How others see them—their feelings—that’s part of it too.”

“But…”

“Harry, me, Gwen, Ned… all of us think you’re important.”

Michelle, who had been looking down, lifted her gaze to meet mine.

“That’s why… when you put yourself down, it hurts us to see it.”

“…But I…”

“I don’t want you to keep blaming yourself. More than that… I don’t want you to deny how much we value you. You are a good person.”

“…You really think so?”

“I do.”

The moment I said that, large tears spilled from Michelle’s eyes.

“…Thank you, Peter.”

“You’re… welcome?”

“…Why did you make it sound like a question?”

“Because… it doesn’t really feel real, I guess?”

“…Heh, you’re strange.”

I held out my hand to Michelle… and she took it.

As I helped her to her feet, I noticed the cupcake she was holding.

…It was probably something Harry had given her.

I wanted to understand why she thought so little of herself… and if I could, I wanted to help her.

So I decided to take a step closer.

“Michelle… if something’s troubling you, I want you to tell me.”

“…To you, Peter?”

“Yeah. Whatever it is, I’ll make sure to solve it. No matter the problem, I’ll find a way. I just… want to help you.”

“……”

Michelle furrowed her brows, then let them soften.
Her lips parted as if to speak… then closed again.

After struggling for a moment, she finally opened her mouth.

“…No, nothing. I’m fine. I don’t need any help.”

The words felt like she was pushing me away.

What came through wasn’t just her refusal—it was her unwillingness to share anything with me.

I felt a shadow creep over my chest, but I covered it with a smile.

“…I see. But still, if you’re ever in trouble, I want you to tell me.”

“Mm. If I ever truly need help… then, at that time—”

Michelle smiled—joyful, sorrowful, and pained, all at once.

“…I’ll say, ‘Help me.’”

Her face as she said it looked like she was joking… but at the same time, as if she was convinced that moment would never really come.

It frustrated me… but all I could do then was nod.

---

“…That woman.”

Inside the taxi, I rested my hand against my chin.

I recalled the beautiful woman I had just met… platinum-blonde hair, blue eyes.

“…She didn’t obey my words.”

In the rearview mirror, I saw the empty eyes of the driver.

I had only met this man today.
But now, he was my obedient servant.

What did I do?
…Nothing at all.

I simply spoke a single word: “Obey.”

I was born this way.

Because of a foolish mother who fell for a pseudo-scientific scam, who—while pregnant—had nerve gas injected into her body… from there, I was shaped into what I am.

And I know this truth.

Every single human being exists only as a puppet… for my amusement.

Everyone obeys me.
No matter their station.
No matter their power.

Money. Women. Violence.
All of it bends to my will.

…With a few exceptions.

And now, she had appeared among those exceptions.

“…Heh.”

But I wasn’t displeased.
On the contrary, I was delighted.

Since childhood, everything had gone my way.
And that was exactly why something beyond my control was… desirable.

“At least, I wanted to know her name. …Well. No matter. There will be plenty of chances. Besides—”

I straightened my purple tie.

I like purple.
The red of violence and the blue of stillness.
When they blend, they become chaos.

From inside my purple jacket, I pulled out a mobile device.

I pressed the power button, and a woman’s face appeared on the screen.

“…The real prize is this one.”

A black-haired woman, clad in a black jacket.
Her eyes burned with defiance.

Her name… Jessica.
Jessica Jones.

She was here too, in New York.

Excitement stirred in me, and my lips curled into a smile.
I opened my inbox and skimmed through a few messages.

Requests for my services.

How laughable, to think someone could hire me.
But the pay was good.

Of course, if I wanted money, I could have all I desired. …But attract too much attention, and one of the “exceptions” would come to kill me.

I must avoid unnecessary risk.
So, I accepted the job.

“…Troublesome, but the rewards are worth it.”

The taxi came to a stop.
We had arrived.

I put my device into sleep mode and slipped it back into my jacket.

Rising from the seat, I put a hand on the door.

Ah, that’s right.

“Good work. Now, go cool your head at the bottom of the sea.”

As I stepped out, the taxi drove off.

I leave no witnesses.
I am cautious.

Tomorrow, or the day after, the newspaper will report a taxi pulled from New York Bay.

Standing outside, I looked at the house before me.

Not a hotel.
Just an ordinary home.
But for now, this would be my base.

I pressed the intercom.

A moment later, a voice came.

“…Yes, who is it?”

The voice of a young woman, wary and alert.

“Would you mind opening the door?”

“…Understood.”

The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

A little infidelity, I’m sure you’ll forgive me.

Right, Jessica?

---

“…Jarvis, hand me that converter and microchip.”

“Certainly, sir.”

I took the equipment from Jarvis, my robotic butler, and hooked it up to the so-called Spider-Bracelet (working title).

It had been sent to me the other day with the note, ‘It stopped working temporarily.’

Not the kind of device that should fail so easily… but could something really cause a temporary shutdown?

Peter’s level of maintenance had turned up nothing unusual.

Which meant—it wasn’t a mechanical failure.
Power flow was fine, no issues with the internal circuits.

I jabbed a cable into the terminal of the board and pulled the internal data.

Scrolling through the logs, I spotted it—about a two-hour window where the power had been completely cut.

The shutdown had been executed… by the bracelet itself.

“…Hm?”

The shutdown command was the result of an external hack.

And considering the way the suit works—if the bracelet is hacked, the entire suit could turn on its wearer.
A surge of power at the wrong time, and the guy inside could end up fried to a crisp.

That’s why the safety protocols existed.
And they had triggered.

I flicked the log up onto the holo-display and traced through it with my fingers.

“…Here.”

Lines of alerts and errors stacked up, all confirming an anomaly had been detected.

“But how…?”

The bracelet isn’t connected to any network.
Once the suit deploys, sure, it communicates for nanomachine control. But before activation, it’s strictly local.

I isolated the abnormal data for closer analysis.

“Jarvis, extract the anomalies and display them.”

“Right away, sir.”

Tens of thousands of lines condensed into a hundred or so.

I folded my arms, studying them.

“…A psychic-wave hack?”

A mutant’s psychic power, converted into wave patterns, tricking the system.

It had pierced the electromagnetic shielding—
because I hadn’t accounted for that possibility.

I graphed the wave data on another screen.

The pattern was perfectly regular…?

But mutants are human.
No human brain can produce something at such precise, consistent intervals.

“…So this is… a machine simulating a mutant hacker?”

Impossible.

No… saying impossible is too hasty.
But reproducing that kind of precision would take, oh, a thousand years.

And yet, the technology here—it was already perfected.

As if someone had skipped every step of development in between, jumping straight to the end result.

Like they had pulled it from the future.

“…A time traveler? Ridiculous. I’ve been watching too many movies.”

I pressed a hand to my forehead and slumped into the chair.

…Maybe I was just tired.
Fury had dumped another strange android analysis on me recently.

I don’t like admitting defeat in tech—ever. But this… this was a different league.
A foundation of technology humanity hasn’t even begun to stand on.

“…Jarvis. Something to drink.”

I gave the order and stood.
The bracelet rested in my palm, and Peter’s face came to mind.

“…Who are you—no, what are you fighting?”

Such a good kid. Too good.
Even with powers, this was way beyond the scope of a so-called friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

“…Honestly. What a handful.”

I set the bracelet back on the table and pulled out more tools.

Inventing new technology is hard.
But analyzing something I’ve seen—and then surpassing it? That’s easy for me.

“Here you are, sir.”

Jarvis brought me a cola, which I downed in one go.

“…Jarvis, put on some music.”

“Of course.”

Rock filled the workshop.
One of my favorites.

“Now that’s more like it.”

I cracked my knuckles and flexed my hands.

Whoever thought they could hack this bracelet and get away with it…

They’re in for a rude awakening.

Because if there’s one thing about me—
I don’t lose.