Hearing the knock at the door, Peter quickly rinsed his hands—he had just finished cutting vegetables. He straightened his clothes and rushed to the door, pretending to be surprised.
"Gwen? Uncle George? What brings you here?" he asked, feigning shock at the sight of them.
"Peter, where have you been these past three days? I've been so worried!" Gwen exclaimed before her father could say a word.
Her eyes were red-rimmed with emotion as she rushed forward and wrapped Peter in a tight hug, patting his back repeatedly as if trying to soothe both him and herself.
Feeling Gwen's soft embrace, Peter stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. While the original Peter and Gwen had always had a friendly rapport, their relationship had never gone beyond being university classmates.
It was through this acquaintance that he had come to know Gwen's father, Chief George Stacy—a connection formed over time during their college years.
"Sorry... I wasn't in the best mood, so I went to a quiet place to be alone for a few days," Peter said, casually making up an excuse.
"Why didn't you answer any of your messages? For three days, there wasn't a single word from you! Do you have any idea how worried we were? My dad even installed a camera in your house. Thank goodness you're safe. I can finally breathe again," Gwen said, her voice trembling.
"Sorry. I didn't bring my phone," Peter said truthfully. It wasn't an excuse—he genuinely hadn't brought it. During his escape, his phone had been damaged beyond repair. For the past three days, he had been hiding out at Felicia Hardy's secluded cabin, working on the Lizard Serum. Getting a replacement phone hadn't been a priority.
What surprised him most wasn't the phone situation, but Gwen's concern. After Aunt May's death, he thought no one in this world cared about him anymore.
Yet here stood Gwen and Chief George, clearly worried. Their care moved him deeply—and genuinely caught him off guard.
"It's okay. You're back safely—that's what matters. But don't ever disappear like that again. We were really worried," Gwen said firmly.
"That's right. Gwen didn't sleep or eat properly these past three days. I had no choice but to install a camera in your apartment to try and track your whereabouts as quickly as possible," Chief George added, stepping forward.
Then, unexpectedly, he hugged Peter before stepping back and scrutinizing him with a puzzled expression.
"Peter, wasn't the last time we saw each other about half a year ago? You've changed. You've gotten taller—and a lot more fit."
"Really? I hadn't noticed," Peter said with a shrug, playing it off casually.
He responded so naturally that Chief George began to doubt himself. Still, his instincts as a seasoned police chief kicked in. Something was different.
Peter didn't just look different—he felt different.
The Peter from before wore thick glasses, was soft-spoken, a bit socially awkward—a stereotypical bookworm. He gave the impression of someone who lived solely for academics.
But now? This Peter stood tall and confident. Though he still wore the same black-rimmed glasses, his entire aura had shifted. He radiated calm strength and poise. He wasn't particularly handsome, but his presence was commanding.
Could someone change so drastically in just six months?
He recalled Peter was around 25 years old. Could someone still be growing at that age?
George wasn't convinced, but he dropped the thought for now. He had always viewed Peter as an excellent student and a stable person—traits he valued. Even if Peter and Gwen became more than friends, he wouldn't object.
From a father's perspective, a relationship with a gentle, intelligent young man like Peter would be reassuring. He might not be rich, but he'd provide a calm, dependable life. And that was what George wanted most—for Gwen to live a life that was steady and secure.
"Must be my imagination," George finally muttered to himself, letting go of the thought.
Changing the topic, he patted Peter's shoulder and looked at him sympathetically. "Peter, I know how much pain you're in. But the dead can't return. You have to move forward. Life is still long—don't give up on yourself. I believe Aunt May, wherever she is, would want you to live well. If you're ever in trouble, don't hesitate to tell me. We'll find a solution together."
Peter was touched. The past few weeks had been nothing short of a nightmare. His life, once so full of promise, had crumbled overnight. Even with the strength of someone who had lived two lives, the pain was unbearable.
At one point, he did feel like giving up. But now, reborn and strengthened, he had a new resolve—not just to live, but to live with purpose and intensity.
"Thank you. I will live well," Peter said, nodding sincerely.
"That's good to hear," George said. Then, with a seemingly casual tone, he asked, "By the way, have you noticed anything strange lately?"
Peter furrowed his brow. "Strange? Like what?"
"Like… being followed?"
Peter's senses immediately went on high alert. The police had likely uncovered something. Otherwise, George wouldn't be asking.
"Followed? No, not that I've noticed. Why? Did you catch Aunt May's killer?" Peter's expression shifted to one of urgency, tinged with rage.
His acting was flawless. Even Chief George, with his years of experience, couldn't detect any cracks in Peter's facade.
After staring at him for a long moment, George relaxed. Peter seemed truly unaware. That was a relief.
"We haven't caught the killer yet," George admitted. "But three nights ago—the night you left home—two gang members were found dead in an alley nearby. They had the same tattoo on their hands as the man who killed Aunt May. We think they're connected."
Peter's heart skipped. So the two gangsters he had killed were part of the same organization. And now the police were on the trail.
"We're tracking leads. It won't be long before we catch the one responsible. When we do, we'll make sure justice is served."
"A satisfying result?" Peter's face turned cold. "Will they die?"
George and Gwen were startled by the intensity in his voice. Peter, once gentle and quiet, now spoke like a man capable of terrible vengeance.
"Peter… I understand your pain," George said carefully. "But the death penalty has been abolished here. That outcome isn't possible."
"Then it's not satisfactory," Peter replied, eyes icy. "A life for a life is the only justice."
"Hatred will only blind you. It won't heal you, Peter," George warned.
Peter didn't argue. He knew nothing he said would change George's mind—and he didn't need his approval.
What mattered was what he believed.
"Uncle George, I understand. I'll try to control myself. By the way, how exactly did those gang members die?"
He casually poured a glass of water as he asked, feigning idle curiosity.
"They were shot. But before that, there was a struggle. One of them even had his ear bitten off. It was… brutal."
"Have you caught the one who did it? I'd love to thank them personally."
George paused. "…No. It was raining heavily that night, and most of the evidence was washed away."
Peter sighed inwardly in relief. The storm had covered his tracks. Maybe fate was on his side after all.
Despite the enhancements from the Lizard Serum, he wasn't yet strong enough to go toe-to-toe with national authorities. He needed to remain in the shadows—at least for now.
"That's really a shame," Peter said calmly.
George frowned. Peter's tone was far too detached—too cold. He was worried this trauma had changed him for the worse.
But Peter didn't notice, or didn't care. He simply got up and brought out a plate of dry toast.
"Have you had breakfast? I was just making some. You're welcome to join me," he offered.
"We've already eaten," Gwen said, waving her hands. "I'm just glad you're okay. I have to get to the office now."
She glanced at her watch and gasped. "Oh! One more thing. Are you free tonight?"
Peter raised an eyebrow. "Tonight? Why?"
"Our band's performing at the Broadway Theater. I'd like you to come see me. If you're free, of course."
Peter hesitated. After a moment, he said, "I'll think about it. If I can make it, I'll call you."
"Okay. I'll wait for your call," she said, smiling before hurrying out.
"You know," George said, chuckling, "my daughter rarely invites a guy to her performances. Even I've never been invited."
Peter didn't comment, but pointed toward the security cameras. "Now that I'm back… can we get those removed?"
"Absolutely. I'll have someone take care of it right away," George nodded. "Since you're safe, I won't take up more of your time."
With that, he too left.
Once they were gone, Peter stood silently, chewing on a piece of toast. His thoughts drifted back to the past—to the Peter Parker who had once walked the halls of Midtown High.
That Peter was gone now.
This new Peter had a mission. And nothing—not guilt, not grief, and certainly not the law—was going to stop him.