What's going on today? Noah Vale stared at the unfamiliar number lighting up his phone. Why is everyone suddenly calling me?
He sighed and answered.
"Hello?"
A familiar voice came through the speaker.
"Well, well, Noah. Didn't expect you to make it big like this. You're on television now."
The moment he heard that voice, Noah's expression darkened.
"Uncle Kane," he said flatly. "What do you want?"
The man on the other end chuckled casually.
"Nothing serious. Just checking in. After all, when someone starts appearing on TV, it's important that their past stays… spotless."
The tone sounded friendly enough.
The threat behind it was obvious.
Noah had no patience for games.
"What do you want?" he asked again.
"Well," Victor Kane continued, "I saw online that a lot of companies want you to endorse their brands. The offers look pretty impressive."
He gave a soft whistle.
"Turns out legitimate business is a great way to make money."
Then his voice sharpened.
"So here's the deal. I only need thirty million dollars."
Noah's eyes narrowed.
"Thirty million," he repeated quietly.
"U.S. dollars," Kane added cheerfully.
"In exchange, all the things you used to do will stay buried forever."
Killing intent flared in Noah's chest.
But his voice remained calm.
"You think I have that kind of money?"
"Oh, come on," Kane said lazily. "With the kind of reputation you've got now? Money will come pouring in."
He paused.
"I'll give you three days to think about it."
The tone grew colder.
"And if you decide not to pay… well."
"You wouldn't want all of America hearing about your glorious past, would you?"
The line went dead.
Noah lowered the phone slowly.
For a moment, he looked up at the night sky.
The moon hung low above the city, one edge hidden behind drifting clouds.
"Three days?" he muttered.
His gaze turned cold.
"Two will be enough."
With that, Noah slipped his phone into his pocket and started running.
The city blurred around him.
Now that his abilities had been exposed to the public, Noah no longer bothered hiding his physical strength.
Everyone already knew he had taken down a gang of armed robbers alone.
Running faster than an average person wasn't exactly going to shock anyone.
Wind rushed past him as he sprinted through the streets.
Within minutes, he arrived at the address Commissioner Hale had given him.
He slowed to a walk and stepped up to the front door.
Ding-dong.
A moment later, the door opened.
Standing there was a blonde girl with bright blue eyes.
Noah smiled slightly.
"Hey," he said. "We meet again."
Gwen Stacy blinked in surprise.
"You… what are you doing at my house?"
She instinctively smoothed her hair and clasped her hands behind her back. A faint blush crept across her cheeks.
"This is your house?" Noah asked innocently.
"Commissioner Hale invited me for dinner."
Gwen froze for a moment.
"Oh—right!"
She had almost forgotten about that.
Earlier that day, she had seen the news about Noah being caught in the middle of the bank robbery.
Her expression shifted to concern.
"I saw what happened on TV this morning. Are you okay? You didn't get hurt, did you?"
"I'm fine," Noah said with a small smile.
Then he gestured toward the open doorway.
"Are we going to keep talking out here?"
Gwen blinked again before realizing she had left him standing outside the entire time.
"Oh! Sorry!"
She quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.
Then she leaned closer and whispered softly:
"My dad's inside. He can be a little… intense. Just try not to argue with him, okay?"
Her breath brushed lightly against Noah's ear.
He felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
The situation suddenly felt suspiciously like a guy visiting his girlfriend's house for the first time.
Which was… weird.
Noah quietly stepped half a pace away.
From the kitchen, he could already hear footsteps approaching.
Better to maintain some distance.
A woman in her forties walked out of the kitchen, wearing a floral apron.
The moment she saw Noah's face, her expression brightened.
"You must be Noah," she said warmly.
"Welcome! I'm George's wife. You can call me Aunt Helen."
She wiped her hands on the apron.
"Dinner's almost ready. You—"
Her sentence stopped mid-word.
Because she suddenly noticed something.
Her daughter.
Standing next to Noah.
Holding his hand.
And blushing.
"…What's going on here?" Helen asked slowly.
At that exact moment, George Hale stepped out of his study.
He saw the scene.
And completely froze.
Gwen smiled brightly, completely unaware of the chaos she had just caused.
"Let me introduce everyone," she said happily.
"This is Noah. We go to the same school at Midtown High. We've run into each other a few times before."
She squeezed Noah's hand lightly.
"I just didn't expect Dad to invite him to dinner tonight."
Helen's brain struggled to process the situation.
Same school… met a few times… and now they're holding hands?
What made it worse was that Noah looked awkward and uncomfortable, while Gwen looked shy and excited.
Which meant—
Her daughter was clearly the one pursuing him.
George's reaction was even worse.
He opened his mouth to say something—
Then remembered he had invited Noah himself.
And that he actually needed the young man's cooperation tonight.
After several painful seconds, he forced out a stiff sentence.
"…Let's eat."
Noah sat down at the table, still slightly confused about how things had escalated so quickly.
Based on the available information, he reached a very strange conclusion.
Did Commissioner Hale invite me here… to introduce me to his daughter?
Noah glanced at George thoughtfully.
Wow. Didn't expect him to be that open-minded.
Meanwhile, several younger Stacy children who had been watching quietly suddenly leaned forward with sparkling eyes.
"Big brother," one of them asked excitedly, "are you our sister's boyfriend?"
"No!"
George answered immediately.
His voice came out a little louder than intended.
"He's a guest. We're discussing important matters. Don't bother him."
The children looked disappointed.
"Oh…"
From their perspective, having such a cool and handsome guy as their sister's boyfriend would have been amazing.
George had barely finished speaking when he turned his head—
Only to see Gwen leaning closer to Noah again.
She enthusiastically pointed at various dishes on the table, explaining which ones tasted the best.
Then she asked quietly if he had any food allergies.
George rubbed his forehead.
Watching his daughter hover around Noah while the poor kid sat there awkwardly, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
His precious daughter—his pride and joy—
was practically throwing herself at the guy.