Marvel: Master Of Role-Playing

Reid shook his head and put Nick Fury's matter aside.

There was no point in dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D. just yet. Only after Captain Marvel's story concluded would Fury begin to truly seize power.

That would be the time for meaningful interaction.

For now, there was still a year before those events unfolded. He had other matters to attend to—like fulfilling his agreement with Norman to treat Emily.

Without notifying Luthor, Reid left. To the outside world, he was merely Luthor's assistant, but in reality, Luthor was nothing more than one of his avatars. Whatever needed to be done, it was Reid's will that took precedence.

...

NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital.

Only a week had passed since Reid made his deal with Norman, but Emily's condition had worsened significantly.

Her entire body was wrapped in bandages, and Reid knew the reason all too well.

The genetic disease running through her family caused severe mutations, ultimately leading to bodily decay. The bandages weren't for treatment—they were simply to cover up the horrifying effects of the illness.

Even though Reid had arrived at night, the hospital's doctor still came to receive him in person.

He might just be an assistant, but he represented Lex Luthor. While the hospital had powerful financial backing, capital and doctors were two different matters entirely.

As they walked down the sterile hallway, Reid carefully reviewed Emily's medical report, the doctor keeping pace beside him.

"Mr. Pennyworth, Mrs. Osborn's room is just ahead," the doctor said, gesturing forward.

Reaching the door, Reid closed the report and handed it back. "I see. Her condition is still within controllable limits."

With that, just as he reached for the handle to step inside, the doctor suddenly spoke up.

"May I ask, does LexCorp have the technology to cure genetic diseases? If so, why hasn't it been released for profit? Not only would it generate enormous revenue, but it could also benefit countless families suffering from inherited illnesses."

Reid's hand froze on the door handle.

He hadn't expected such a direct question, especially from a doctor who genuinely seemed to care. The man wasn't naïve, either. He hadn't made any foolish demands about giving away the cure for free, just a logical inquiry about why it hadn't been commercialized.

That kind of thinking reminded Reid of his past life—of ideals he had once held but had long since discarded.

Out of respect for the man's sincerity, he decided to explain.

"Doctor, your heart is in the right place. But every genetic disorder is unique and requires a tailored solution. Emily is receiving treatment because her husband, Norman Osborn, was willing to pay the price. There are countless families suffering from hereditary diseases. Do you think every single one of them can afford that kind of cost?"

A corporation existed to make money, and Luthor's research required vast resources to produce tangible results. Without revenue, where would those resources come from?

There was also another reason Reid didn't mention—he had no intention of letting Luthor waste his talents on problems like this.

As technology advanced, genetic diseases would eventually be solved. But he had no desire to shoulder the burden himself.

One day, he might take on the role of Superman. But he would never be Superman.

"...I didn't consider that," the doctor admitted. "I won't interrupt your visit any further, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Good. Then please wait here for a moment."

As he said that, Reid pushed open the door and stepped inside. His gaze immediately fell on Emily, who was bathed in moonlight, gazing at the moon outside her window.

Without turning her head, she spoke.

"Is it Mr. Luthor?"

Emily was a smart woman. She had no idea that Luthor had secretly accelerated the progression of her genetic disease using a specially formulated scent.

But she understood the situation well enough.

Like Norman, she knew that the only person who could save her now was that monstrous genius, Lex Luthor.

She had already predicted what her husband would do. And she had guessed who would come to see her at this moment.

"No, ma'am. I am Mr. Luthor's assistant, Reid Pennyworth."

Following the etiquette he had learned from Alfred, Reid gave a small gesture of respect, even though Emily was too weak to lift herself up and acknowledge it.

"Mr. Luthor has developed a special drug that can treat your genetic disorder. Please take it."

While speaking he poured a glass of water and placed it, along with the capsule, on the bedside table.

"Is that so? Luthor truly is a genius... to have developed a cure so quickly," Emily said, turning her head to look at him.

Like Norman, Emily vaguely sensed that something was off about the unusual speed of this development. But she had no intention of looking into it any further.

With a son to care for, she had to recover for Harry's sake. As for the truth? It no longer mattered in the face of reality.

She wouldn't investigate what had really happened. She wouldn't tell Harry about any of this.

The battle between Norman and Luthor would end here.

Emily struggled to sit up, then swallowed the pill with a sip of water.

She didn't feel anything unusual. It was just medicine, not some kind of miracle cure that would take effect instantly.

At the same time, Reid took out more capsules and placed them on the table.

"One per day. In about a week, you'll be able to walk again. After a month, you can be discharged. As for a full recovery, it'll take about a year."

"Thank you," Emily said softly. As Reid was about to leave, she finally asked the question that had been weighing on her mind.

"Can I ask... what will happen to Norman?"

Reid stopped in his tracks, silent for a moment.

Only now did he truly understand why villains in stories could remain calm when faced with righteous accusations—yet feel at a loss when confronted with the quiet sorrow of their victims.

But he steadied himself and spoke in a measured tone.

"Mr. Osborn... gave up everything to save you and secure Harry's future."

"Norman!"

Emily's eyes widened in shock. She sat frozen in place as Reid quietly stepped out of the room.

Moments later, soft but heartbreaking cries echoed through the hospital room.

...

A month later.

Norman had just finished his daily labor when he returned to his cell and found a meal waiting for him. Along with it, a single photograph had been placed on the tray.

In the picture, Emily—fully recovered—was receiving a crying Harry from their housekeeper's arms.

"Emily... you finally..."

Tears welled up in Norman's eyes. He looked at the tray of food and knew that his time had come.

Luthor had fulfilled his promise. Now, it was his turn to fulfill his part of the deal.

"I'm sorry, Emily... I'm sorry, Harry..."

Murmuring his final apology, Norman picked up the meal and began to eat.

The next morning, Norman Osborn was found dead in his cell.

The official cause was severe food poisoning—allegedly from hoarding leftovers from the prison cafeteria as a late-night snack.

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