MARVEL -BLACK SPIDERMAN

The next day, in church.

On weekend mornings, the church radiated a solemn atmosphere.

"Let us pray for her, for both men and women are like flowers in the valley. They bloom today but may wither tomorrow. Human life is like a season—coming and going. Let us pray."

The pastor finished the prayer and then said, "Will the pallbearers please come to the front?"

Peter sat in the front row of the church, next to Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

After hearing the pastor's words, Uncle Ben stood up and walked toward the front.

The person who had passed away was a relative of the Parker family—a young girl who died of a cerebral hemorrhage.

Uncle Ben had received the news a few days ago, and originally, he and Aunt May had planned to attend alone. However, Peter insisted on accompanying them.

The reason for Peter's insistence was clear: he worried that Helen might pose a danger to Uncle Ben and Aunt May.

After what had happened the previous night, he was convinced that Helen had established some kind of connection with the alien parasite in her body.

He feared the worst—that she, too, was parasitized.

So, was it the sticky substance she expelled?

And more pressing, would the alien embryo inside him evolve further?

Peter's thoughts drifted back to the vampire he had killed the night before, his tail piercing the vampire's heart. The encounter had left him wondering whether killing a vampire could make the alien embryo inside him evolve again, much like when he had killed Frank.

Thinking deeply, he pulled out his phone and searched for the name of the bar he had visited yesterday, hoping to uncover some connection to Helen.

While he was searching, Gwen called him, asking where he was.

After a brief hesitation, Peter told Gwen his address.

He hung up, then looked up at the church window. The cross above caught the sunlight, casting a brilliant glow.

His search for "Alcatraz Bar" yielded mostly inconclusive results—nothing that stood out among the many bars in New York City.

When Uncle Ben and the other pallbearers were preparing to lift the gray coffin, Gwen arrived at the church.

She was wearing an aqua blue dress, and the solemn atmosphere of the church made her face tense.

"Tomorrow and the unexpected—we never know which will come first," Gwen said quietly.

After greeting Aunt May, she sat down next to Peter and watched the funeral for a moment. Then, she leaned in and whispered to Peter, "I was almost hit by a car on the road yesterday."

She recalled the black car that had rushed toward her, and she shuddered to think what might have happened had she not had superpowers. "But I'm fine. I'm lucky."

Peter gave her a surprised look. Gwen quickly reassured him, "I'm fine, really."

She was about to say more when the pallbearers, now ready, started to move the coffin. The crowd stood up, and the mourners began to file outside.

Gwen accompanied Peter, following the crowd.

"Actually, Gwen," Peter began, "you don't have to be here. This kind of heavy atmosphere isn't right for you."

"I'm not that fragile," Gwen replied in a relaxed tone. "Peter, you can't think that just because I said that—death always seems to favor me—that I need to stay away from funerals."

"It's a way of honoring them, don't you think? It's about expressing our grief for the deceased. Sure, it sometimes makes me feel uneasy, but it's also a moment of reflection."

Gwen shared her feelings with Peter and then asked, "Do you think funerals are heavy, Peter?"

"I'm more rational about it," Peter said, glancing at the Cadillac funeral car parked by the roadside. "I always think funerals are a way of trying to decode death."

"Why do you say that?"

Peter explained, "Some people have witnessed things at funerals—like the man who buried Hitler, or the one who dissected John Wilkes Booth's body. There are also undertakers who handled Jonestown and people who prepared Alexander the Great's body to prevent it from decaying."

(John Wilkes Booth was the man who assassinated President Abraham Lincoln.)

Peter's thoughts shifted to the vampire he had killed the previous night. After disposing of the resurrected corpse, he had seen some deeper truths about death.

Gwen nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right, Peter. But perhaps the true secrets of death will remain buried forever. These people didn't write books to reveal what they witnessed."

Gwen didn't notice Peter's expression, but she suddenly remembered something important that she hadn't told him yet.

"I met Harry today," Gwen said, frowning slightly. "But something didn't seem right about him."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with him?"

Gwen paused to gather her thoughts before responding. "He greeted me like someone confident and polished, wearing expensive clothes and speaking in the same business-oriented manner as his father. He was quick to boast about Osborne's achievements and how he planned to make the company even greater."

Peter asked, "Isn't that normal for someone of his stature?"

Gwen shook her head. "That's just it. It's not Harry. He's never been the type to focus on business. Harry's always been down-to-earth, not trying to distance himself from others just because of his wealth. This… this was not the Harry I know."

Peter remained silent for a moment, then said, "People change, Gwen."

"But this change… it's too sudden," Gwen said, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "He seems like a completely different person. Something must have happened behind the scenes that we don't know about."

Peter nodded, turning the thought over in his mind. "Do you think he's better now?"

Gwen hesitated for a moment. "I guess… he seems more cheerful now. He used to be so anxious, as if he had something to worry about all the time. But…"

She paused again, clearly unsure. "Maybe it's all a front. No matter how cheerful someone looks, it's hard to forget all the pain they've been through."

---

Later that Night—Osborne Manor.

Harry greeted his father in the living room. "Hey, Dad."

Norman gave Harry a proud pat on the shoulder. "I heard you've been doing great at the company, Harry."

"I'm trying to learn the ropes, Dad. I'm still figuring things out, but I like what I'm learning."

"Good. Keep it up," Norman said, his tone approving.

As Harry walked upstairs, Norman's expression grew serious. He turned to the housekeeper. "Keep giving Harry the medicine. It's working."

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