When Schiller met Stark, the man truly was on the verge of madness.
His mental state was an utter mess.
With telepathy active, Schiller could feel a headache building right through the wall from the sheer impact of Stark’s tangled, chaotic thoughts.
Schiller took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Stark looked up, rolled his eyes, and gave Schiller a massive side-eye.
Though he looked a bit haggard, he wasn’t disheveled.
The consequence of his desperate need to save face was that Schiller could feel him teetering on the brink of a breakdown—he simply refused to show it in front of Pepper.
Schiller cleared his throat softly.
Pepper gave Stark a worried glance before turning to leave.
Schiller sat across from Stark and asked, “Mr.
Stark, may I ask you a question?”
“What do you want to ask?
Play mystic and wax poetic about philosophy?
Or ramble on about useless psychological theories?”
“Ahem, neither.
I just want to ask what my hourly rate is.”
Stark was visibly stunned by the question.
“What did you say?” he asked in utter disbelief.
“I said I’d like to know how much my psychiatric sessions cost,” Schiller said.
“Because I was drunk when Miss Pepper discussed rates with me, and by the time I woke up, I had completely forgotten.”
Speechless, Stark waved a hand dismissively.
“Aren’t you supposed to pick some abstract, generic shrink topic…
like the meaning of life, the source of one’s grief, or something like that?”
“Yes, that comes next, once the formal consultation begins.
But first, I need to make sure you can afford my psychiatric fee.”
Stark’s eyes widened in shock.
“What did you just say?!
Do you have any idea who I am?
Good Lord, are you a caveman?
Don’t you know who I am?
Don’t you know this is Stark Tower?”
“Yes, I know you’re very rich, Mr.
Stark.
But how much money you have and how much you’re willing to pay are two entirely different matters.”
“…How much do you want?”
“One million dollars an hour.
Non-negotiable.”
“Take it!
Just take it!
You mercenary lunatic of a doctor—are you out of your mind?
A million dollars!
I could hire a dozen beauties on a yacht for that…”
“I vaguely recall someone claiming he was very rich.”
Stark was rendered completely speechless by Schiller.
He scoffed, “Did Pepper send you to mess with me?
Great!
Go tell her she succeeded!
I already explained that my last party was just to say goodbye to my exes, not to pull anything.
Why won’t she believe me?!”
“A dozen beauties on a yacht won’t make you feel any better, sir,” Schiller said.
“Especially when you feel like you’re dying.”
Stark’s exaggerated gestures froze.
He stiffened, turned back to look at Schiller, his eyes full of suspicion.
Schiller sat calmly.
“You’re terrified of dying right now.
But perhaps what frightens you most isn’t death itself, but dying without a chance to make amends for your mistakes…”
“Bullshit.
Who are you?
Who the hell are you?” Stark’s emotions flared.
“Did Pepper tell you something…
No, she doesn’t know either.
You…”
Stark stared straight at Schiller.
“Don’t play these damn mind games with me.
I don’t buy into any damned mind reading.”
“There’s no mind reading in this world, only psychology,” Schiller said.
He stood up and said to Stark, “You are more than welcome to keep stalling.
My fee is a million dollars an hour anyway.
Drag this out a little longer, and I’ll be able to buy a new car.”
Stark felt a headache coming on from Schiller’s alternating serious and nonsensical talk.
“How did you figure it out?
With that ridiculous psychology of yours?”
“That’s not important.
What matters is that the only advice I can give you is to solve the issue of death first.
Of course, you might think that’s easier said than done.”
“However, the method is—”
Schiller paused.
Stark stared at him wide-eyed.
Schiller said, “Pay a fifty percent deposit upfront, and then we’ll begin the rest of your treatment.”
Stark was virtually fuming, so infuriated that he actually laughed.
He snatched up the phone and called Pepper.
“Sweetheart, where on earth did you hire a vampire doctor?
…Yes, he’s charging me a million dollars an hour…”
Schiller snatched the phone right out of his hand.
“Miss Pepper, Mr.
Stark’s unit of measurement for a million dollars is a yacht full of beauties…”
He hung up and waved the phone.
“Payment will hit the account in five minutes.”
Stark continued to glare at him.
Crossing his arms, Stark said, “Go on, then.
Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“What have you been running from?”
“What?
What am I running from?”
“You had better ask yourself.
The answer lies right in there.
I don’t mean Miss Pepper’s frantic phone calls or lingering texts from ex-girlfriends.
I’m being serious…”
Schiller leaned against the desk, crossed his arms, and adjusted his glasses.
“I’ve never seen such a peculiar case.
Very unique.
Exceptionally rare…”
Stark shivered.
“Hey, I don’t swing that way.
Stay away from me.”
“You aren’t as absurd as you pretend to be.
I know someone very much like you.
He disguised himself as a playboy, appearing to be a fool who just muddled through life without a thought for tomorrow.”
“But he was smart—too smart for his own good.
So he kept waiting for someone to give him an answer, an answer that comes from…
his past.”
Stark looked at Schiller, and Schiller looked back.
Stark lowered his voice.
“I’ll give you two million dollars to leave right now.
I’ll tell Pepper your session worked wonders, I—”
“If I’m not mistaken, Miss Pepper is listening right now,” Schiller said.
Stark went silent.
Schiller said, “For two million dollars, I’ll give you a method that actually works.”
“Deal.”
“Everything you’re looking for lies in the past you avoid the most.
I once saw it in the news—the founder of Stark Industries, your father…”
“Enough,” Stark said.
He turned away, hiding his expression from Schiller.
Stark’s voice trembled slightly.
“Pepper will transfer your fee.
Get out.”
“…He would have been willing to give you a second life.
God bless you.”
“GET OUT!!!”
After Schiller left, Stark smashed a wine glass against the desk.
Meanwhile, in an office at SHIELD, Nick Fury pressed his earpiece and said, “Investigate a psychiatrist named Schiller immediately.
I want everything on him right now.”
Shortly after leaving, a massive sum landed in Schiller’s account.
He thought happily to himself: *Although Stark is a tough nut to crack right now, you get what you pay for.
I’m more than happy to help this filthy rich guy solve his troubles.*
Soon, another surprise followed: Schiller discovered he could now copy Spider-Man’s abilities.
It turned out that the lack of this feature earlier hadn’t been a system glitch—Peter simply hadn’t been bitten yet.
Now that his spider powers had manifested, Schiller could naturally copy them.
Schiller clicked to copy and obtained [Spider-Sense (Low Tier)].
Compared to the intense shock he had felt when acquiring telepathy, this felt rather mundane.
Schiller felt his five senses heighten slightly—he could see a bit further and hear more clearly.
As for intuition, he hadn’t felt anything yet.
He felt a slight tinge of regret; it would have been great to get Spidey’s physical prowess.
But since it was a diminished version anyway, it would probably only slightly enhance his athletic abilities, far from allowing him to leap tall buildings or swing through the skies.
Spider-Man hadn’t possessed immense strength right from the start either; his spider abilities developed gradually.
For now, it seemed to be only slightly beyond that of a normal person, nothing too exaggerated.
However, now that Spider-Man’s storyline had begun, Peter’s uncle might be heading for trouble.
Schiller thought for a moment and sent Peter a message: “How are you doing?
Do you want to come to the hospital for a check-up?
I’m a doctor and can introduce you to a reliable trauma specialist.”
Peter’s reply came quickly: “Whoa!
You’re actually a doctor?
That’s awesome.
Which hospital do you work at?
What kind of doctor are you?
An orthopedist?
Though I don’t think I need a surgeon anymore.
I’m feeling great right now, and I think Gwen is about to say yes to dating me…”
Schiller replied, “I suggest you still get checked out.
Animal bites are no joke.
Besides, we could meet in person…”
Peter clearly hesitated.
After all, meeting an online friend wasn’t a great idea at a time like this.
He had just gained his spider powers, was riding high on excitement, and didn’t want to do anything else.
Schiller added, “I think you could bring Miss Gwen along.
I’m at Presbyterian Hospital.
I can get you both a free comprehensive medical check-up, and afterward, you two could visit a nearby café…”
Peter was tempted.
For one, his family wasn’t well-off, so he never had the chance to get proper physical check-ups.
Moreover, no New Yorker hadn’t heard of Presbyterian Hospital.
He replied, “Thanks, but I’d like to bring my uncle and aunt along.
They’re getting older.
Of course, that might be asking too much.
If it’s not possible, just ignore me.”
Schiller thought for a moment, realizing this might be even better.
He messaged back, “That works.
I’ll book you for this weekend.
You can also try inviting Miss Gwen and her family.
I have plenty of slots reserved.”
Overjoyed, Peter went off to call Gwen.
He had always been on the receiving end of Gwen’s kindness—since his family wasn’t doing well financially, Gwen was constantly bringing him snacks and yogurt.
Peter had always felt guilty about never being able to help her in return.
This, however, was a great opportunity to make it up to her.
Presbyterian Hospital wasn’t easy to get into; even though Gwen’s father was the commissioner of the New York Police Department, scheduling a full-body check-up required waiting in line for ages, if it was possible at all.
Peter felt things had been going incredibly smoothly lately.
First he got superpowers, and then the friend he met online turned out to be an attending physician at a major hospital.
Now his uncle and aunt wouldn’t think he was wasting his time chatting online.