Gwen sat on the edge of the roof.
The night wind rushed into her white spider-suit, making her hood flap loudly.
She sat motionless, her gaze fixed in the direction where the hooded man had vanished.
In the distance, the sirens grew louder, red and blue lights dancing across the buildings a few blocks away.
Gwen slowly lowered herself into a crouch, then sat on the ledge, her legs dangling over the edge.
She pulled off her mask.
Her blonde hair, messy from the wind, obscured half of her face.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Disgusting…” She muttered to herself, wiping the corner of her mouth roughly with the back of her hand.
Thinking about those writhing tentacles and the way that man had been swallowed whole made her want to retch.
But what truly made her sick was the event itself.
A living human being had been devoured right before her eyes.
Not even a bone was left.
Thompson had completely evaporated from this world, as if he had never existed.
And she, Spider-Woman, the friendly neighborhood hero of New York, hadn’t stopped it.
No.
She hadn’t even had time to try.
That hooded man had been too fast—so fast that her Spider-Sense only had time to scream a warning but not enough for her to react.
Gwen buried her face in her knees, hugging her legs and curling into a ball.
She wanted to talk to someone.
When the thought surfaced, she instinctively thought of her father.
George Stacy, Commissioner of the NYPD.
Her dad.
But she instantly killed the idea.
What would she say?
*”Dad, I saw someone get eaten by a monster tonight, and then I fought the monster and lost”*?
Her father still didn’t know she was Spider-Woman, and she didn’t plan on confessing anytime soon.
What about Helen?
No.
Her mom hadn’t been feeling well lately; she didn’t want to worry her.
Harry?
No.
Harry Osborn had been off lately, gloomy and secretive.
She didn’t know what he was up to.
Mary Jane Watson?
Betty Brant?
Names flashed through her mind one by one.
Tonight’s events weren’t appropriate to share with any of them.
Gwen looked up at the Manhattan skyline.
The pillar of light atop the Empire State Building pierced straight into the night sky.
Suddenly, a memory surfaced—she had run into Ryan Quinn in the school hallway this afternoon.
The new transfer student.
He always sat quietly in the back row, sleeping during class and sleeping during breaks.
Even his walking was slow and sluggish, as if he couldn’t be bothered by anything.
He seemed to…
live in Queens?
Gwen blinked.
She didn’t know why she suddenly thought of him.
Probably because he was an outsider too.
In this city, everyone had their own fixed circles, and newcomers were always left on the fringes.
She suddenly understood that feeling.
Wait.
Gwen sat up straight, her eyes narrowing.
That hooded man’s build…
his jawline…
it felt familiar.
It had been too dark in the alley, and her head had been so full of Thompson that she hadn’t had time to identify him properly.
But looking back, the silhouette of that man did remind her of someone.
*No, it’s impossible.* Gwen shook her head, tossing the absurd thought aside.
Ryan Quinn?
The guy who was too lazy to even run during P.E.?
The one who constantly muttered “how troublesome” and never even left his seat after class?
How could he be related to the monster that had smashed through a wall with a single punch?
But a voice in her mind whispered: *How many people do you know who live in Queens, have a lean build, and such a sharp jawline?* Silence reigned for a long time.
Then, Gwen pulled her phone out of a pocket in her suit—she had modified the suit herself at home, sewing in a small pocket for her phone so she could take photos of criminals for evidence.
She opened her contacts and scrolled to the ‘A’ section.
Staring at the name, her finger hovered over the screen, hesitating to press it.
What was her excuse?
What reason could she possibly have for calling a classmate she had barely spoken to?
In the middle of the night, a girl calling a guy to say, “I think you look like a murderous monster from tonight”?
She was just asking to be cursed at.
Gwen stared at the screen for ten seconds, took a deep breath, and pressed dial.
*Whatever, I’ll just say I dialed the wrong number.* Ring…
ring…
The phone rang five or six times without an answer.
Gwen bit her lip, ready to hang up.
Suddenly, a long, slurred voice came from the other end: “…..Hello?” The voice was lazy, thick with sleep, the last syllable dragged out as if the speaker hadn’t fully woken up.
“Ah…
it’s so late…” He muttered again, seemingly to himself or to the air.
Then came the rustle of someone turning over in bed.
Before saying anything else, he let out a yawn.
“…Who is it?
Better be something important, or I’ll be really sad.
I finally fell asleep.” “Uh…
hi, Alex?
It’s Gwen, Gwen Stacy.” The other end went silent for three seconds.
“…….Huh?” The sound was dragged out, making it clear he hadn’t processed what she said at all.
“Gwen Stacy.
I sit two rows in front of you.” Gwen bit her lip.
“The one with the blonde hair.” “…Oh.” Ryan Quinn’s voice remained lazy, the tone soft and limp.
“That…
very blonde girl.
I remember.
Cheerleader, right?
Plays the keyboard.” He seemed to lift his head from the pillow slightly; his voice became clearer, but that lethargic tone didn’t budge.
“It’s so late…
something up?” Gwen opened her mouth, realizing she had no idea what to say.
She couldn’t exactly say, “I think you might be the monster who killed someone tonight, so I’m calling to check.” “No…
it’s nothing big,” Gwen stammered.
“I just…
um…
are you free tomorrow?
I have some physics problems I wanted to ask you about.
The teacher said you’re great at physics.” Physics problems?
Gwen cursed herself mentally.
When did she ever need help with physics?
She was a straight-A student.
The other end fell silent again.
Then came a long sigh.
“Physics problems…….
how troublesome.” The mere act of saying those words seemed to exhaust Ryan Quinn; he stopped talking as soon as he finished.
Gwen blinked.
What kind of reaction was that?
Usually, when a guy hears a girl asking for help, shouldn’t he—no.
He wasn’t that kind of person.
He slept through every class, and he didn’t even bother to get a doctor’s note for P.E., he just didn’t go.
“If it’s too much trouble, then forget it—” “Ah, no, I didn’t say no,” Ryan Quinn interrupted, his tone still sluggish.
“Physics problems, right.
I can take a look at those.
I’m not doing anything tomorrow anyway.
Though sleeping is also very attractive…” He yawned again.
Gwen could almost picture him rubbing his eyes.
“It’s 11:30 PM,” he stated.
“I know, I…
I just got back, and I couldn’t sleep.” Gwen’s voice lowered instinctively, carrying a trace of exhaustion she hadn’t noticed herself.
“I ran into some…
unpleasant things tonight.” The words were out before she could regret them.
What was she doing, sharing this with a virtual stranger?
But the line didn’t go dead.
Ryan Quinn was silent for a few seconds.
Then he said, “Ah…
I see.” His tone was flat but carried a strange sense of earnestness—as if he had woken up just a tiny bit from his lazy stupor.
The voice was still slow, but each word had a bit more weight than before.
His reaction was a beat slow, but he was definitely listening.
“What kind of unpleasant things?” Gwen leaned against a ventilation duct on the roof, looking up at the stars.
For some reason, her back didn’t feel quite as stiff against the metal anymore.
It was because he didn’t pry.
He didn’t offer platitudes like *it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it*.
He just asked plainly and waited.
If she wanted to talk, she could; if not, he didn’t care.
There was no pressure.
“I saw…
a very scary scene tonight.” Her voice was soft.
“Someone died in front of me.
I should have been able to save him, but I was too late.” The other end remained silent.
“He died horribly.
Not like a normal…
he was swallowed whole.
Not even blood was left behind.
It was like he never existed.” Her eyes began to sting.
“I didn’t know him well.
He used to bully a friend of mine.
But…
but he was still a person.
A life.
Just gone.
And I…” she bit her lip, “I didn’t even see what the killer looked like.” After saying it all, Gwen suddenly felt a bit lighter.
She couldn’t say these things to her dad, and she couldn’t open up to Helen or Betty.
But talking to Ryan Quinn didn’t seem that hard.
Maybe it was because he didn’t know the people around her, or maybe because he just didn’t care.
On the other end of the line, Ryan Quinn was quiet for a moment.
Then he spoke.
His voice was unusually devoid of that dragged-out ending, steadier than before, though still slow.
“So that’s why you called me.
Because we’re not that close, so there’s no burden in telling me.” Gwen was taken aback.
The sentence sounded like he was analyzing her, but there was no offense in his tone.
He was just stating a fact.
“…Probably.
You caught me.” Gwen gave a bitter smile.
“Sorry for bothering you so late.
Go back to sleep.” “Wait.” Gwen’s finger stopped over the end-call button.
A long sigh came from the phone, followed by the start of a yawn.
“Ah…….
tomorrow at 4:00 PM.
The library.
I have to go there to sleep anyway; it’s not like I can’t sleep in a different place.” Gwen opened her mouth to say, “The librarian will yell at you for sleeping,” but the words that came out were: “Okay.” “Yeah.
Oh, and by the way…” “What?” “Next time you call this late, can you send a message first?
Let me prepare myself.
Waking up after finally falling asleep is really painful.” Ryan Quinn’s tone was lazy and slightly complaining.
He yawned one last time, and then the call disconnected.
Gwen stared at the “Call Ended” screen for a long time.
Then, she slowly pulled her mask back on and stood up.
The night wind hissed against her white suit.
*Sleep in a different place.
What the hell.* But for some reason, she suddenly didn’t feel so bad.
Maybe she was relieved after speaking out, or maybe it was because of that 4:00 PM appointment—whatever it was, it meant that tomorrow was a new day.
Gwen fired a web and swung away, vanishing into the night of Queens.
At the same time, in a small two-story house in Queens.
Ryan Quinn leaned against his headboard, the glow of his phone illuminating half his face.
He yawned, squinting at the unknown number in his call log.
He looked utterly drained.
*Physics problems.* He knew that wasn’t the real reason.
Gwen Stacy was testing him.
That sense of familiarity—she must have felt something.
Spider-Sense was an elusive thing, but it was never wrong when it mattered.
“…How troublesome.” He spoke to the empty air, not caring if anyone heard.
Then he tossed his phone toward the nightstand—he missed, and it slid onto the floor.
He glanced down at it but didn’t pick it up.
*Forget it, I’ll deal with it tomorrow.* Ryan Quinn pulled the blanket up to his chest and closed his eyes.
Tonight’s fight with Spider-Woman had given him a clearer understanding of this world’s power system.
Her strength far exceeded his current level, but if he were given more time…
*Ah…
but getting stronger is also so tiring.
Whatever, no rush.
These memory fragments will digest slowly on their own.
Sleep first.* Moonlight filtered through the slats of the blinds, casting stripes across Ryan Quinn’s face.
He rolled over, his breathing soon becoming steady and deep.
The phone screen on the floor dimmed.
The memory fragments devoured from Thompson were still churning and restructuring deep within his consciousness, slowly merging—maybe it was happening too fast.
He’d check tomorrow.
He just hoped he wouldn’t have any troublesome dreams.
Before the thought could finish, he was already asleep.