Inside Marvel X DC World

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Standing there was a woman around thirty-eight, with some fine lines at the corners of her eyes but a graceful figure and vibrant expression that mirrored Gwen's.

It was Gwen's mother, Helen Stacy.

"Mike, you're here!" Unlike George's suspicious demeanor, Helen was delighted to see him, pulling him into the apartment, "It's cold out; come in and make yourself at home."

"I heard Gwen was sick, so I thought I'd visit." Mike slipped off his shoes, glancing around the apartment.

"Don't worry." Helen seemed to read his mind, smiling as she added, "Her father went out last night and hasn't come back yet."

"Ah, well…" Mike wasn't sure how to respond.

Helen continued, "Gwen had a fever this morning. I gave her some medicine, so she's probably asleep in her room."

"In that case, maybe I should just come back later…" Mike glanced at Gwen's closed door, "I don't want to disturb her."

"What do you mean disturb her?" Helen interrupted, urging him to go in, "This is the perfect time. Go check on her!"

Helen nudged him toward Gwen's door, adding meaningfully, "The room is soundproofed. No one will hear a thing."

"Well, I just came to visit." Mike corrected, forcing a smile.

"Of course. A simple visit. Just don't catch her cold." Helen winked, then opened the door, nudging him inside and closing it behind him.

'Is this really Gwen's mom?' Mike wondered.

Looking around, he took in the neat room filled with a faint fragrance and decorated with dolls. It was unmistakably a girl's room, and on the bookshelf, he noticed several photos of him and Gwen, including some he hadn't even known existed.

His gaze soon fell on the bed, where Gwen lay like a Sleeping Beauty, breathing softly, her cheeks flushed.

Mike leaned in close, calling gently, "Gwen? Gwen?"

She didn't respond; she seemed fast asleep.

Mike double-checked that his hands weren't cold and gently brushed aside a strand of her golden hair to place his hand on her forehead. It felt warm.

So she did have a fever.

Mike had come partly out of concern for Gwen and partly to check if she could somehow be linked to the mysterious Ghost-Spider from last night.

Now it seemed he had been mistaken.

Of course, how could Gwen be the one swinging through the skies?

Shaking his head, Mike's gaze dropped to her slightly parted lips. Redder and fuller than usual, perhaps due to the fever.

An idea crept into his mind.

Just one way to know for sure…

The most direct way to activate his *Lord of the Dependents* power was through a kiss, right? The intimate contact met the prerequisite.

He edged closer.

Gwen, lying quietly in bed, exhaled softly, her warm breath caressing his face with a faintly sweet scent.

Unbeknownst to him, Gwen was wide awake.

When she'd returned home late last night, still wearing her Spider suit, she'd barely managed to avoid being seen by her mother. Today, she'd used her "illness" as an excuse to avoid school and rest.

But what she hadn't anticipated was Mike skipping class to check on her—and her mother shoving him into her room.

As Mike moved closer, Gwen's senses went on high alert, feeling every inch as he neared her lips. The heat rose in her cheeks as she kept still, hands clenched beneath the covers.

Mike's face hovered inches away, hesitating. Then, in a moment of resolve, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss… on her forehead.

Straightening up, he glanced at the closed door, brushing his lips with his fingers as if to clear his mind.

"What on earth am I doing?"

With a wry smile, he adjusted her blanket. It had been unnecessary and impulsive, but the fever told him she truly was unwell.

As he tucked her in, a few band-aids slipped from the covers, catching his eye.

'What is this?' Mike held the Band-Aid in his hand and noticed it looked like it had been used, but the area it covered was very clean, with no blood or dust.

He suddenly remembered his childhood.

Gwen had always loved putting Band-Aids on herself, especially on her nose, pretending to have a wound. She'd even pat her flat chest and declare that she wanted to be the boss and protect him.

'Band-Aids are useless for colds, you little fool.' Mike smiled, pocketed the three Band-Aids, slowed his pace, and quietly opened the door to leave the girl's room.

"Hey, done so soon?"

Outside the door, Helen, who seemed to have been standing there eavesdropping, looked surprised.

Mike's forehead was lined with frustration, and he emphasized, "Auntie, I really just came to visit the patient."

"Really?" Helen sighed, looking a bit disappointed.

'What are you hoping for?!'

Mike was too worn out to complain further. He quickly greeted Helen, politely declined her repeated attempts to make him stay, and fled Gwen's house in a mild panic.

Neither Mike nor Helen knew what was happening in the closed room.

Almost the moment after Mike left and closed the door, the beautiful girl who had been pretending to sleep on the bed sat up quickly. Her face flushed, and she gasped softly, covering her hot cheeks with both hands. Actual steam rose from her forehead, precisely where Mike had touched her moments before.

The girl's brain seemed to freeze momentarily. She stared blankly for a few seconds, then frantically lifted the blanket, searching everywhere.

"They're gone, the band-aids are gone..." Gwen felt so embarrassed she was almost on the verge of tears.

The three band-aids were the ones she had removed the night before when she took off her Spider suit. When wearing her skin-tight outfit, her body would inevitably sweat, and wearing a regular bra or other garments would only make her feel hotter and more uncomfortable.

However, going completely bare wasn't ideal either.

So, each time Gwen wore her Spider suit, she would cover herself with three strategically placed band-aids.

Last night, she had been in such a hurry to change out of her outfit that she hadn't had time to dispose of the band-aids, leaving them on her bed instead.

"Could they really have ended up with Mike?!"

As the thought of the band-aids possibly falling into Mike's hands crossed her mind, Gwen buried her head under her pillow, feeling mortified to the point of wanting to disappear.

…

Upon returning home.

As soon as Mike exited the apartment building's elevator, he noticed several staff members in uniforms but without any company logos moving in and out of his home.

In his living room, which was being renovated at an astonishingly efficient pace, an elderly gentleman with gray hair, dressed in a sharp suit, stood directing the staff with organized precision as they rearranged furniture and made adjustments.

Seeing Mike enter through the door, the elderly man immediately removed his hat, gave a slight bow, and greeted him with polite friendliness, "You must be the young master of the Prince family, correct?"

"Master?"

Mike blinked, momentarily stunned. No one had ever addressed him that way in his life.

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before replying, "I'm Mike Prince."

"Indeed." The elderly man's eyes held a discerning look as he offered a gentle smile. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It's a bit of a mouthful, so feel free to just call me 'Butler Alfred.'"

As he introduced himself, Alfred reached into his suit pocket and offered a black business card with both hands, displaying an impeccable level of respect.

Mike accepted the card, noticing the dignified aura of this man who, despite being just a butler, carried a deeply ingrained sense of nobility and poise that made people naturally warm to him.

This demeanor couldn't be easily faked; it required years—possibly decades—of grooming within a prominent household.

The business card in his hand provided further confirmation.

The name "Wayne Industries" was prominently printed on it!

Wayne Industries.

Its name alone was enough to command worldwide recognition and respect.

Though in popular media Wayne Industries was often depicted as overshadowed by Stark Industries at global tech expos, it was nevertheless a powerhouse of unmatched technological capability.

Moreover, while Stark Industries focused on heavy industries like chemicals, metal fabrication, satellite communication, and AI-driven military advancements, the Wayne conglomerate encompassed a wide array of fields, including financial investment, pharmaceuticals, civil aviation, railroads, shipbuilding, and even toys and electronic gaming.

It was often said that Wayne Industries owned nearly half of Gotham City's economy, a statement that wasn't far from the truth.

Wayne Industries (and its broader consortium) was indisputably a global giant.

So, this must have been the "connection" Diana had hinted at this morning.

As if reading Mike's mind, Alfred raised a hand, signaling all the staff to leave the room.

The butler smiled gently and explained, "I'm here on behalf of the head of the Wayne family, Mr. Bruce Wayne. He wishes to meet Miss Diana to discuss a few matters."

Just as he was about to continue, the door opened.

"Whatever you have to say, you can say it here." Came a calm, graceful voice. Diana entered the room, her elegance as commanding as ever.

"Miss Diana." Alfred said, bowing respectfully, admiration glinting in his eyes.

"Hello."

Diana gave a slight nod, took Mike's hand, and guided him to sit on the living room sofa, saying, "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you, Miss Diana. I appreciate your hospitality." Alfred replied, taking a seat in a dignified manner, his posture as straight as a pine tree even while seated.

"If there's anything you wish to discuss, you may speak openly in front of Mike." Diana repeated firmly.

"Of course." Alfred glanced at Mike, a hint of surprise in his gaze. After a brief pause, he continued, "Originally, Mr. Wayne intended to come in person, but an urgent matter in Gotham demanded his attention, so he arranged for me to visit on his behalf."

Mike felt a faint frown appear on his brow.

Bruce Wayne. That name was as recognizable as Wayne Industries itself.

Much like Tony Stark, the heir to Stark Industries, Bruce Wayne controlled Gotham's economic pulse. Yet both men, despite their power, had reputations as notorious playboys.

Alfred went on, "Mr. Wayne's intention is to explore a potential partnership with Miss Diana. If Miss Diana is interested, your family would be welcomed in Gotham City, where Mr. Mike would also have access to top-quality education, healthcare, and all essential services."

"A partnership? What kind of partnership?" Mike asked, intrigued.

"Bruce Wayne is also known as the Batman of Gotham City." Diana explained, "Recently, he's been exploring the idea of forming an alliance with other gifted individuals, and he wanted to discuss a potential collaboration with me."

"Oh, I see." Mike responded, nodding in understanding.

Alfred couldn't hide his surprise.

Most people would be overwhelmed to learn the true identity of Batman. But Mike, seemingly unfazed, regarded the news with calm curiosity, as if hearing an everyday fact.

After all, for Mike and Diana, dealing with mythical figures was simply part of their lives. By comparison, Batman's identity seemed relatively ordinary.

"The alliance is merely in its conceptual stage at the moment." Alfred clarified, "Mr. Wayne is still uncertain about its future, as finding people with extraordinary talents is no small feat. However, we'd be willing to provide any support necessary if Miss Diana would consider relocating to Gotham City."

"This isn't just my proposal—it's Mr. Wayne's offer on behalf of the entire Wayne Group." Alfred emphasized, his tone carrying a pride befitting a member of the Wayne household. At this moment, he exuded a level of confidence that made it clear he was not merely boasting.

After all, a commitment from Wayne Industries could influence even a head of state.

Diana, however, maintained a composed expression, glancing at Mike, "What do you think, Mike?"

"Me?" Mike was momentarily taken aback.

Alfred, too, seemed surprised, his gaze shifting to Mike with renewed curiosity. From all he'd learned, Diana was a resolute and astute woman. Yet here she was, deferring to Mike's judgment on significant decisions.

It was as if Mike was the true decision-maker in the household.

The realization left Alfred both surprised and impressed.

Mike, for his part, quickly understood what was happening.

Diana was giving him the freedom to choose.

If he agreed to Alfred's offer, they could move to Gotham immediately, benefiting from the city's best resources and Wayne Industries' extensive support—a life filled with luxury and ease.

But…

Mike shook his head slightly, signaling his refusal.

"Why?" Alfred inquired, puzzled, "Master Mike, wouldn't you enjoy life in Gotham City? With the Wayne Group's resources, you could have almost anything you desire..."

Mike's gaze remained steady, "Alfred, you misunderstand. I'm indeed interested in Gotham. Honestly, who wouldn't be tempted by Wayne Industries' support and privileges?"

"Then why refuse?" Alfred's confusion deepened.

"Because I don't want my choice to influence my aunt's own decision. The reason you're extending this offer is because you value her abilities, not mine."

Mike continued calmly, "If my aunt is genuinely interested in joining your alliance, then she doesn't need Wayne Industries' incentives. And if she's not, then I won't accept them, even if it means giving up privileges."

"I see." Alfred murmured, his admiration for Mike now openly displayed.

"That's how I feel as well." Diana added softly, "For now, I'm not inclined to join Bruce Wayne's alliance. So, my apologies."

"Understood." Alfred stood and bowed, "Then I'll take my leave and relay your decision to Mr. Wayne."

"Alfred." Mike called out just before he left, "Thank you for your help with the renovations. I'll find a way to repay you someday."

"This is my promise." The young man's words carried a weight beyond his years.

Alfred acknowledged with a nod.

But he could never have imagined at that moment what Mike Prince's promise would come to mean in the future.