The inside of the limousine smelled of expensive leather and citrus air freshener.
Peter was sitting on the edge of his seat, trying very hard not to touch anything, as if his fingerprints might devalue the vehicle.
"This is insane," Peter whispered to me. "There's a mini-fridge, Matt. A fridge."
I smiled faintly. "Don't hyperventilate, Peter. It's just a car. It has four wheels like the bus."
Harry, sitting across from us, chuckled. He looked more relaxed now that he was away from the school crowd.
"Your friend is right, Pete. It's just a car. My father uses it for meetings, I just borrow it to escape the subway smell."
The car glided through the streets of Manhattan, eventually stopping in front of a sleek, modern café in Upper East Side. It wasn't a Starbucks. It was the kind of place where the menu didn't have prices because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it.
We sat at a corner table. Harry ordered for all of us without asking—a Black Mountain coffee for himself, a complex mocha for Peter, and he paused when he looked at me.
"Espresso?" he guessed.
"Double," I corrected. "Black. No sugar."
Harry smirked. "I knew it."
As the drinks arrived, the conversation started flowing. Or rather, Peter started talking about a new paper on distinct polymer synthesis, and Harry listened with a mix of amusement and genuine interest.
I sat back, sipping the espresso. It was good. Rich, bitter, grounding.
I observed Harry. Beneath his polite smile, my [Mental Strength] sensed a whirlpool of anxiety. He was like a violin string tightened to the point of snapping.
"So," Harry said, turning to me during a lull in Peter's science rant. "Peter tells me you're living in the dorms. Are you not from New York?"
"I am," I lied smoothly. "But my family situation is... complicated. I prefer the solitude of the dormitory. It's quieter."
Harry's eyes darkened slightly. "I understand. Sometimes family is the loudest thing in the room, even when they're not there."
It was a loaded statement.
"Your father?" I asked directly.
Peter froze, looking between us nervously. You didn't just ask Harry Osborn about Norman Osborn.
Harry looked surprised by my bluntness, but he didn't deflect. He swirled his coffee.
"He's... demanding. He expects perfection. Oscorp is his legacy, and he treats me like an extension of that legacy, not a son. He wants me to be him. But I'm not."
"Nor should you be," I said calmly. "Legacies are for dead people. You're alive."
Harry looked up, stunned.
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed on the table.
The screen lit up. One word was displayed: FATHER.
The atmosphere at the table instantly dropped ten degrees. Harry's posture collapsed. The confident rich kid vanished, replaced by a scared child.
He stared at the phone as if it were a bomb.
"I... I have to take this," he whispered.
"Go ahead," I nodded.
Harry picked up the phone and walked away, but not far enough. Or maybe my enhanced hearing was just too good.
"Yes, sir... I know, I'm just with friends... No, I finished the review... I'm sorry... Yes, I'll be home by six... I promise... Yes, father."
He sounded small. Broken.
Peter looked at me with sad eyes. "It's always like this. His dad is... intense."
"He's abusive," I corrected. "Emotional manipulation is a weapon."
Harry returned to the table a minute later. He looked pale. The light in his eyes was gone.
"I... I have to go," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "Something came up at the company."
Peter started to stand up. "Oh, okay. We can—"
"Harry," I interrupted, remaining seated.
Harry stopped and looked at me.
I locked eyes with him. I didn't use telepathy. I didn't use coercion. I just used the weight of my presence.
"Listen to me," I said, my voice low but piercing. "You are Harry Osborn. You are not a disappointment, and you are not a clone. The world is vast, Harry. Much bigger than an office at Oscorp or a disapproving voice on the phone. Don't let his shadow eclipse your sun."
The café went silent around us.
Harry stood there, his mouth slightly open. He looked like someone who had been holding his breath underwater and was finally reminded that he could swim to the surface.
For a moment, I saw a spark of rebellion in his tired eyes.
"I..." Harry swallowed hard. He straightened his jacket. "Thank you, Matthew."
"Just Matt," I said.
"Matt," he nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."
He turned and walked out, but his step was a little lighter than before.
Peter looked at me, his jaw dropped.
"Dude," Peter whispered. "You just... gave therapy to Harry Osborn in thirty seconds. How do you do that?"
I finished my espresso in one gulp and stood up.
"It's easy, Peter," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I just observe."
'And because I know what happens if he falls into that darkness,' I added silently. 'The Green Goblin isn't born from serum alone. He's born from despair.'
[Ding~ Host, you are meddling with the canon timeline. Butterfly Effect probability: 12%.]
'Good. Let the butterflies flutter. I prefer hurricanes anyway.'
That Night.
I teleported back to my room from a nearby alley, testing my [Spatial Blink] range. It was getting smoother.
Nox greeted me with a yawn.
I sat on the bed, thinking about the day.
Harry was a ticking time bomb. Norman Osborn was the detonator. If I wanted a peaceful life—or at least a life where my friends didn't try to blow up the city—I had to stabilize Harry.
But first, I needed resources.
Living on a scholarship and dormitory food wasn't going to cut it. I needed money. Real money.
"System," I asked. "Are there any easy ways to make money legally with my current skills?"
[Ding~ In response to the Host...
Gambling: You have high mental calculation and telekinesis. Poker would be child's play.
Stock Market: With your processing speed, you can analyze trends faster than algorithms.
Bounty Hunting: Criminals have bounties. You have superpowers. Do the math.]
I rubbed my chin.
"Gambling is tacky. Bounty hunting draws too much attention for now. The Stock Market..."
I smiled.
"I have [Untalented]. If I study economics and coding for a night, I'll be a Wall Street genius by morning."
I pulled out my laptop.
"Time to rob the rich... legally."