The final bell rang, signaling the end of the first day.
As I walked out of the school building, breathing in the polluted but strangely liberating air of New York, I felt a hand tap my shoulder.
"Um... Matthew? Wait up!"
I turned around. It was Peter Parker. He looked out of breath, clutching his backpack straps like a lifeline. He still had a small stain of tomato sauce on his collar from the lunch incident.
"Hey, Peter. What's up?" I asked, keeping my tone friendly but calm—the kind of tone an adult uses with a kid.
"I... I just wanted to say thanks. For chemistry class. And... for what happened in the cafeteria," he said, looking at his shoes. "I mean, I don't know if you did anything in the cafeteria, but... it felt like someone was looking out for me."
I chuckled softly and patted his shoulder.
"Don't mention it, kid. You're brilliant, Peter. You're probably smarter than half the teachers in this building. Don't let guys like Flash dim your light. If they push, you push back. Or at least, don't apologize for existing."
Peter looked up, surprised by the weight and seriousness of my advice. His eyes widened slightly. "I... I'll try. Thanks, Matt."
"Anytime."
'System,' I thought as I looked at him. 'He really is just a child. A good kid, but a child nonetheless.'
[Ding~ In response to the Host... Indeed. He lacks the scars of life that you seem to value so much.]
"Peter! Over here!"
A voice called out from the street, interrupting our moment.
We both turned to look. A sleek, black limousine had pulled up to the curb, looking starkly out of place among the yellow school buses. The back window rolled down, revealing a young man.
He had reddish-brown hair, neatly styled but with a hint of neglect. He wore a coat that probably cost more than my entire previous life's savings. But what caught my attention weren't his clothes.
It was his eyes.
They were tired. Dark circles hung beneath them, speaking of insomnia and heavy burdens. He had the look of someone carrying the weight of a legacy he didn't ask for.
Harry Osborn.
"Oh! That's my friend. I gotta go," Peter said, brightening up instantly. "See you tomorrow, Matt!"
"See you," I replied, watching him run towards the car.
Peter reached the car and started talking to Harry through the window. Then, Harry looked up.
His eyes met mine.
Harry Osborn stared at me. Usually, people looked at him with envy or excessive admiration because of his family name and wealth. But I looked at him with simple, calm acknowledgement.
My enhanced [Mental Strength] picked up a faint fluctuation in his emotional field. Surprise. Curiosity. Fatigue.
I didn't smile like a teenager trying to impress a rich kid. Instead, I offered him a slow, casual nod. Just one person acknowledging another.
Harry blinked, seemingly surprised by my lack of reaction to his expensive car and status. A small, genuine smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He nodded back before rolling up the window.
The limousine drove away, disappearing into the New York traffic.
'Well...' I thought, watching the car vanish. 'Harry Osborn. He looks even more tired than in the movies.'
[Ding~ Host, your interest levels have spiked. Finally found someone who meets your 'mental age' criteria?]
'Perhaps. At least he doesn't look like he's worried about a math test. He looks like he's worried about his soul.'
I decided to walk back to the dormitory instead of taking the bus. I needed to stretch my legs—and my mind.
As I walked through the streets of Queens, I practiced with my [Mental Strength]. I tried to multitask: keeping track of the traffic lights, listening to snippets of conversations, and sensing the layout of the buildings around me.
"Hey! Give me that!"
My ears picked up a distress signal. I paused and turned into a narrow alleyway.
Two thugs had cornered a stray cat. One of them was holding a baseball bat, laughing cruelly. It was a cliché scene, but cruelty was cruelty in any universe, and I had zero tolerance for it.
"Leave the cat alone," I said, my voice cold and echoing slightly in the alley.
The thugs turned around. They were big, ugly, and clearly not very smart.
"Get lost, pretty boy, unless you want your face rearranged," the one with the bat sneered, stepping forward.
I sighed, adjusting my collar. "Why does everyone always resort to violence so quickly? It's so primitive."
The thug charged at me, swinging the bat.
I didn't flinch. I didn't even take my hands out of my pockets.
Stop.
I focused my mind on the bat.
Suddenly, the bat froze in mid-air, as if it had hit a wall of solid steel. The thug's momentum carried him forward, but the bat stayed stuck in space, wrenching his wrist painfully.
"Argh! What the hell?!" he screamed, dropping the bat (or trying to, it was still floating).
The other thug pulled out a knife, his eyes wild with panic. "You freak!"
He lunged.
I simply tilted my head to the side. Sleep.
I didn't use telekinesis this time. I used a direct mental blast—a tiny, precise needle of psychic energy aimed right at his consciousness center.
The thug's eyes rolled back into his head instantly. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, hitting the dirty pavement with a thud.
The first thug, terrified, looked at his floating bat, then at his sleeping partner, and finally at me. To him, I must have looked like a monster.
"Dem... Demon!" he shrieked and scrambled away, tripping over his own feet in his haste to escape.
I gently lowered the bat to the ground with a thought and walked over to the cat. It was a small, black kitten with bright yellow eyes, hissing defensively.
"It's okay. I'm not like them," I whispered, crouching down. I projected a wave of calm and safety from my mind towards the animal.
The kitten stopped hissing immediately. It blinked, sniffed my hand, and then rubbed its head against my palm, purring.
[Ding~ Host, you have successfully saved a life. +10 Good Karma points (Note: These points are fake, but it makes you feel good, right?).]
"You're coming with me," I decided, picking up the small creature. "Dorm rules say no pets, but... well, who's going to stop a telepath?"
I tucked the kitten inside my jacket to keep it warm.
As I walked out of the alley, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an unknown number.
I opened the message.
"Hey, it's Peter. I asked Sam for your number. Harry—my friend in the car—asked who you were. He said you looked 'unbothered'. Like you didn't care about anything going on around you. He thought it was cool. Anyway, see ya!"
I stared at the screen for a moment, a faint smile playing on my lips.
"Unbothered, huh?"
I looked up at the sky, where the distant silhouette of Stark Tower pierced the clouds.
It was a fitting description. When you've seen the void of the universe, a high school parking lot doesn't exactly make your heart race.
"Harry Osborn... Someone who sees through the noise. Interesting."