Deep in the night of Gotham City, the rain mixed with the scent of industrial smog, like a pot of spoiled soup left simmering for too long.
Leon crouched atop the crumbling gargoyle perched on the edge of the rooftop, the growling in his stomach louder than the distant police sirens.
It was hunger beating war drums inside his body.
He hadn’t eaten a proper carb-heavy meal in over twenty-four hours.
As a member of the transmigrator army, Leon felt like he was disgracing the entire profession.
Other transmigrators either awakened systems that let them dominate the world, or became long-lost heirs reclaiming legendary fortunes.
Meanwhile, he had been bound to a Spider-Man Role-Playing System that forced every word and action to match Spider-Man’s image perfectly.
With all the restrictions this system imposed, wasn’t it basically forcing him to become a saint?
“Beep~ Your Saint System has successfully bound itself~”
“Tch.”
Leon lowered his gaze toward the dark alley below, where a skinny thug with a skeleton-like frame was pointing a rusty switchblade at a trembling woman.
This was the thirty-fifth robbery he had run into during tonight’s patrol alone.
Leon silently gave Gotham City’s public safety a heartfelt thumbs-up.
The concentration of “talent” in this city truly lived up to Gotham’s reputation.
“God bless Gotham. Amen.”
If it weren’t for grinding those pathetic system rewards, Leon would rather be digging through the dumpsters behind the Iceberg Lounge in hopes of finding leftovers Penguin had tossed away.
But he couldn’t.
System judgment: Dumpster diving qualifies as “indecent behavior” and damages the image of a superhero.
“Sigh.”
…He was joking.
Nobody seriously thought he would actually do that, right?
Still, Leon genuinely wanted a job.
Unfortunately, the double debuffs of being both an illegal immigrant and an underage minor made it difficult for the current fifteen-year-old failure…
boy to find work.
Leon sighed, stretched his sore ankles, and jumped down from the gargoyle.
Because of his low blood sugar, he stumbled the moment he landed and nearly bowed directly to the mugger in front of him.
The skinny thug nearly stabbed himself in the thigh after getting startled by the figure that suddenly dropped from the sky.
Leon steadied himself.
His expression twisted beneath the mask, but when he spoke, his tone remained absurdly upbeat.
“Hey there, my misguided brother. Pulling a knife on someone in the middle of the night is a bad habit. You might accidentally wound your pure soul.”
The thug froze.
He stared at the teenager in front of him, dressed in cheap red-and-blue pajamas, thin as a stick, with a hood and mask covering his face.
“Where the hell did this psycho come from? Get lost! Stop screwing with my business!”
The thug cursed and lunged forward with the switchblade.
Leon sidestepped, grabbed the thug’s wrist, and yanked him backward.
“Violence never solves anything, bro. What you’re holding isn’t a knife. It’s the chains of sin.”
Leon recited lines so embarrassing that even he wanted to delete his account and restart life, all while skillfully dismantling the thug with practiced combat techniques.
He shoved the thug forward from behind and watched him crash face-first onto the pavement.
The thug scrambled back up with bloodshot eyes.
“Shut the hell up! I’ll kill you!”
Leon lightly leaped onto the wall and clung to it like an oversized gecko.
“What you need is love and redemption, not more bloodshed. In a city drowning in darkness, shouldn’t we all give each other a hug?”
The thug mentally collapsed.
Seriously.
What were you supposed to do when the guy beating you up started preaching like a pastor in the middle of the fight?
And worse, you couldn’t even beat him.
“Are you insane?! If you’re crazy, go check yourself into Arkham Asylum! Stop disgusting me!”
The thug threw down the knife, covered his ears, and screamed.
Leon dropped gracefully from the wall like a falling leaf.
He completely ignored the man’s emotional breakdown—honestly, if seeing him was enough to break someone mentally, how had this guy survived so long in Gotham?—and turned toward the woman trembling in the corner.
“Ma’am, you’re safe now. Justice may arrive late, but it never disappears.”
The woman stared blankly at him while clutching her purse tightly.
“Th-Thank you… um… should I call the police?”
Leon thought about the response speed of the Gotham City Police Department.
Then he thought about the group of overweight officers who spent more time eating donuts in patrol cars than catching criminals.
“Considering the GCPD is probably dealing with another three hundred robberies tonight, I think you’d be better off heading home, making some hot cocoa, and getting a good night’s sleep.”
After saying that, he turned toward the thug, who was quietly trying to escape.
Leon pressed a hand onto the man’s shoulder.
The thug trembled violently, tears practically streaming down his face.
“Hero! bro! I wa- I was wrong! I swear I was wrong! Just hand me over to the GCPD already! Please, I BEG YOU! just stop talking…”
Leon resisted the urge to punch the man’s nose flat.
His fist trembled slightly.
Not because he was angry.
Because he was starving.
But if his expression could be seen through the mask, it would definitely have looked warm and sunny.
After all, Spider-Man was overflowing with positivity.
Leon gently helped the thug to his feet and even brushed the dust off his clothes.
“Don’t be afraid, lost child. Every soul willing to repent deserves forgiveness. Since you’ve realized your mistake, then go. Go find the light meant for you.”
The thug froze.
He simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
In Gotham, failed robbers usually ended up beaten half to death and tossed into dumpsters, or pinned to walls with Batarangs.
Was this red-and-blue freak seriously letting him go?
“Y-You’re really letting me leave?”
Leon nodded with sacred determination.
“Go. Use your hands to create value, not steal it. Remember, every tomorrow is a new beginning.”
Could you feel it?
This alleyway was glowing.
The light was coming from him.
He was basically Gotham’s personal little sun.
He could have knocked the thug unconscious immediately, but his strength control was still unstable.
A sixteen-ton punch could very easily kill someone by accident.
He could’ve webbed the thug to the wall…
Unfortunately, that ability hadn’t unlocked yet.
The thug sprinted toward the alley exit so quickly it looked like the entire GCPD was chasing him.
Leon remained standing there, watching the man disappear into the rainy night.
Then he sighed again, and his stomach let out another long growl.
“God bless Gotham.”
He muttered softly into the empty alley.
“But seriously… I don’t even have money for food.”
Molly, a woman who had recently transferred to Gotham for work, felt her hands trembling.
From a peeling, worn-out wallet, she carefully pulled out a crumpled ten-dollar bill.
The bill had obviously gone through the washing machine several times.
Its edges were curled, and a stubborn grease stain marked the center.
But in Leon’s eyes, it radiated a holy light brighter than the spotlights above Gotham City Hall.
Molly extended the money toward him.
Her eyes carried a rare trace of maternal pity—something nearly extinct in Gotham.
“Kid, take it. I know it isn’t much, but you… you look like you need a decent meal. Or maybe some new clothes.”
Leon stared fixedly at the ten-dollar bill.
His eyes nearly glued themselves to it.
Ten dollars.
That was enough for two burgers.
Or enough energy bars to survive until tomorrow.
His hand had already reached out.
His fingertips brushed the rough paper.
It was real.
Then the system alarm exploded inside his head.
[Warning: Accepting payment is prohibited.]
[Spider-Man Role-Playing System Reminder: Spider-Man does not take a single cent from civilians.]
[If you accept this money, the probability of falling off a wall within the next twenty-four hours will rise to eighty-nine percent.]
Leon’s fingers froze.
He looked down at the money.
Then at Molly’s sincere expression.
Then back at the money again.
Finally, he slowly withdrew his hand.
The movement felt painfully unnatural.
Which, honestly, it was.
“No need, ma’am.”
He spoke casually, as if refusing an extra stick of gum.
“My rates are pretty high. Ten bucks isn’t enough. Maybe next time.”
Molly froze.
The corners of Leon’s mouth twitched beneath the mask.
He replayed his own words in his head.
“My rates are too high? Not enough money? Maybe next time? Are you kidding me? That sounds like I’m complaining she didn’t pay enough.”
Sorry.
He was too hungry.
His emotional intelligence had temporarily disconnected.
But the expression around his eyes still looked bright and cheerful, even through the mask.
“What I mean is, you should keep it. Gotham’s cold enough already. Don’t let your wallet freeze too.”
Leon added quickly.
His tone remained calm and steady.
Molly’s eyes reddened.
She looked at the teenager standing before her, wearing a homemade suit stitched together from cheap pajamas with loose threads hanging from the sleeves.
Her lips trembled slightly.
“You saved my life… I can’t just do nothing.”
Leon took a step backward and shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets.
Not because it looked cool.
But because he was afraid his hands would reach out on their own.
“Seeing you get home safely is the best reward I could ask for.”
After saying that, Leon silently scored himself in his head.
Seven out of ten.
The dialogue was decent.
The delivery was solid.
But the growling from his stomach had nearly drowned out the final line.
Molly couldn’t say anything.
She simply clutched the ten-dollar bill and stared at him.
Leon felt that if he stayed any longer, his willpower would completely collapse.
He turned toward the wall, dug his fingers into the bricks, and climbed upward in two quick movements.
“Wait!”
Molly called out from below.
“Please… tell me your name.”
Leon paused.
He turned slightly, and the rainy neon lights illuminated half of his masked face.
“Don’t thank me, ma’am.”
He pushed himself onto the second-floor windowsill.
“I’m your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”
Then his figure disappeared into the shadows of the building.
Molly remained standing alone in the alley, staring blankly at the empty wall.
“Thank you… Spider-Man.”