Midday.
Carl pulled a bottle of red wine from the fridge and poured himself a glass.
Taking a slow sip, he savored the flavor like a man with all the time in the world.
Across the room, Skye lay curled up lazily on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket.
Carl grinned at her. "Why don't you just move in with me?"
"I've got plenty of properties, tons of space."
Still lounging under the blanket, Skye shook her head. "No thanks. I've got my own place."
"Fair enough."
Carl didn't press. This wasn't the first time he'd asked her to move in.
But for reasons of her own, Skye always refused.
He thought for a second, then smirked. "Alright then, but today, we are getting a sturdier bed."
"I mean, it's not a big deal that it broke… but it did kinda ruin our sleep, right?"
At that, Skye grabbed a pillow from behind her and flung it at him.
"That was your fault, jerk!"
There was a playful bite to her words.
"What's with you today? Why were you so full of energy?"
"It's already noon, and you broke my bed!"
When she'd called Carl that morning, it was barely seven or eight.
And yeah, she knew Carl was fit, he'd been training since childhood, but even so…
She hadn't expected him to go so hard.
Carl chuckled. "That? That was nothing. If I wanted, we could've gone till tomorrow."
"Yeah right! Big talk, tough guy! Wanna go again, huh?!"
"Oh?" Carl raised an eyebrow and started walking toward her.
Skye's eyes widened. "Wait, no, don't tell me you're serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Skye immediately dove under the blanket and waved the white flag.
"Okay, okay! I surrender! I was just kidding!"
"I've got zero energy left. You win, alright?!"
Carl laughed, ruffled her hair, and picked up his wine glass again, completely satisfied.
And honestly? He wasn't bluffing.
If he hadn't noticed how tired Skye was, he really could've kept going.
Ever since receiving the [Silver Superman Template], Carl was no longer the man he once was.
Still, he hadn't expected the bed to actually collapse after just a few hours.
Guess Skye's apartment really was a little... shabby.
Maybe it was pride, or maybe she just didn't want to rely on him, but Skye had always refused to move into Carl's place.
What she didn't know was…
Carl had already contacted her landlord and bought the apartment at 15% over market price.
Truth be told, real estate in this area was dirt cheap.
Even with the added premium, it was still way under Carl's budget.
But as the saying goes, you get what you pay for.
The bed collapsed.
Absolute trash.
Carl considered calling the seller to give them a piece of his mind.
And now?
Now he had to compensate Skye for her busted furniture.
Damn scam artists.
Skye rested for a while longer before finally getting up to freshen up.
By then, Carl had already finished the bottle of wine and taken a shower.
Around 2 p.m., Skye was ready too.
Since her bed was now in pieces, they needed to go buy a new one.
Naturally, they had to pack up a few essentials first.
But before that, lunch.
The two of them stopped by a classy restaurant, ate a proper meal, and then headed to the nearest high-end mall.
This time, Carl didn't hold back.
He dropped two grand on a top-tier mattress without even blinking.
Though to be honest, he was a little disappointed.
Why isn't there something more expensive?
Surely this one wouldn't break, right?
Because Skye would be staying at her own place tonight, they had the bed delivered directly to her apartment.
The delivery guys were extremely enthusiastic.
Even though her apartment was modest, the bed Carl bought was the kind of high-end model they sold maybe once a month, if that.
They could tell Carl and Skye weren't ordinary customers.
So they brought their A-game.
By the time everything was moved in and set up, it was already past 5 p.m.
Skye sat cross-legged on the new mattress and asked, "So… what now? Wanna hit your bar?"
"Nah. Too early. Not many people there yet, it'd kill the vibe."
"Fair. Then what?"
"Let's test the bed first... then we'll head out for dinner."
Skye blinked. "Test the bed?"
"It looks fine…"
She didn't even get to finish the sentence before Carl chuckled and cut her off.
"You can't tell just by looking," he said playfully. "We need to test it, thoroughly."
And with that, he climbed onto the bed too.
Three hours later.
Carl walked back to the fridge, grabbed another bottle of wine, and poured himself a glass.
He didn't smoke, but he did like to drink.
Most of the liquor at Skye's place had actually come from Carl's own bar.
Why?
Well, the answer was obvious.
Skye lay on the new bed, quietly watching him.
"You're different today," she said softly. "Like… a different person."
Carl raised an eyebrow. "Because I broke the bed?"
"No! That's not it."
She rolled her eyes, then muttered to herself, "I don't know how to put it. You've changed… but not really."
"Your whole vibe, it's different."
"Maybe."
Carl smiled faintly but didn't elaborate.
Ever since realizing he was in the Marvel Universe, Carl had been under tremendous pressure.
Sure, he had money, but in this world, money didn't mean much.
Too many powerful beings walked the earth.
Forget Thanos for a second, even someone like Kingpin was someone Carl couldn't afford to underestimate.
But now?
Now, with the [Silver Superman Template] unlocked, Carl finally had the power to protect himself.
His whole mindset had shifted.
At the very least, that thug who had threatened to take over his bar?
Carl was very tempted to go pay him a visit.
He'd wanted to before, but back then, he knew he'd lose.
But now?
Heh.
Still… that could wait.
That guy had said he'd come knocking in three days.
Right now, spending time with Skye came first.
After another short rest, Skye got up to freshen up again.
Then the two of them headed out, this time, to Carl's bar.
Carl's bar was called Smith's Tavern.
The name had been chosen by the old man who raised him.
Carl never sold the place, partly because he loved drinking, but mostly for sentimental reasons.
One location was in Queens, just a short drive from his house.
The other was in Manhattan.
To be fair, Kingpin had once offered him a million dollars to buy the Queens location.
And honestly? That was a generous offer.
The place was spacious, and the liquor stock alone was worth a small fortune.
All things considered, the deal wasn't bad.
But that wasn't the point.
It wasn't about the money, it was about principle.
Carl's net worth was in the billions.
You think he'd sell off his bar… just for pocket change?