40. Gwen's Two Younger Brothers

Manhattan, Golin Apartments!

Helen Stacy, who had been a devoted homemaker since marrying George Stacy, was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Howard Stacy, nine, and Simon Stacy, eight—Gwen’s two younger brothers—were sitting in the living room, racing against time as they watched television.

Yes, racing against time, because as soon as Helen was free, she would urge them to study. In Helen’s words, since their sister Gwen was such a good student and they all came from the same womb, the two of them should be doing just as well. In reality, Howard and Simon’s grades couldn’t be called terrible, but they hovered perpetually at the passing line, occasionally slipping even lower if they weren't careful.

As it happened, Howard and Simon had failed their year-end exams, and for that, Helen had cut their daily hour of recreation.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

"Howard, Simon, it's time to go back to your rooms and study."

"…Alright."

Helen stepped out of the kitchen, cast a glance at the two boys on the sofa, and spoke calmly. As she watched them obediently head upstairs to their rooms, she walked to the door and opened it.

Standing at the entrance, Hawk looked at Helen, whose first impression was one of gentleness, and greeted her with a smile: "Good evening, Mrs. Stacy."

Helen was momentarily stunned, then warmly invited Hawk inside: "Good evening, Hawk, come on in."

Hawk thanked her, and Gwen pulled him into the apartment. This was the first time in this life that Hawk had been a guest in someone else’s home. Gwen’s apartment was also on the top floor, a two-story duplex. It wasn't very large, but everything in sight felt warm and tidy.

Hearing the commotion downstairs, George Stacy, who had been in the upstairs study, walked down the stairs with a stern expression. Gwen, who was introducing Hawk to her mother, heard the footsteps and looked toward her father: "Dad."

Upon seeing George, Hawk greeted him politely: "Mr. Stacy."

George’s face was serious and meticulous, looking very much like a stern, humorless high-ranking official. However, this time was much better than yesterday. At the very least, George gave a grunt of acknowledgment before walking toward the dining table without another word.

Seeing her husband’s demeanor, Helen shook her head with a faint amusement and said to Hawk: "Hawk, please, have a seat. It's time to eat."

Hawk thanked her again and, guided by Gwen, sat down, nodding and smiling at George, who was seated across from him. Helen then called out toward the second floor: "Howard, Simon, come down for dinner."

"Coming!"

Howard and Simon, who had been waiting in their rooms with their books, scrambled down the stairs. They paused in surprise when they saw a stranger in the dining room, and even after taking their seats, they continued to stare directly at Hawk.

Hawk noticed and extended his right hand toward Howard. "Hello, Howard, I’m Hawk."

"I’m Howard."

"I’m Simon."

Eight-year-old Simon stood up from his seat, shook Hawk’s hand with his small one, then blinked at him: "Are you my sister’s boyfriend?"

Hawk subconsciously glanced at George, who was sitting opposite him. Sure enough, George’s face had turned as dark as coal. Very dark. But… he didn't voice any objection.

Hawk smiled slightly and nodded at Simon, who had the same blonde hair as Gwen: "Yes, I am."

As soon as these words were spoken, George’s face turned even darker. Gwen, meanwhile, smiled and reached out to ruffle her brother Simon’s hair. *Well done, little brother.* She decided she would give him ten dollars before bed as a reward. As for Howard, he got nothing.

Unlike the communal dining style common in the East, dinner at the Stacy household was typical of the American style, with individual portions. Of course, this might have been George Stacy’s preference. Regardless, Hawk was an outsider; unless one was a close family friend or had visited many times, the first visit usually didn't involve shared dishes. Hawk understood this.

Regardless of the serving style, the dinner was excellent. In this life, this was the first meal that truly felt like a proper dinner for Hawk. There was no need to mention the school food, and when he was alone, Hawk didn't care about flavor or presentation—as long as it filled his stomach, that was enough, because simply staying alive was hard enough.

At the table, George ate his dinner in silence, like the head of the house. Helen, acting as the gentle matriarch, occasionally checked if the food was to Hawk’s liking and asked a few simple, superficial questions. Gwen acted as a buffer between her boyfriend and her mother, while also keeping a vigilant watch on her father, fearful that he might suddenly lose his temper. Nine-year-old Howard and eight-year-old Simon ate their own portions, perfectly content.

Just then, George picked up the whiskey placed beside him, took a sip, and cleared his throat.

The next second, the gazes of Helen and Gwen snapped onto George.

*Here it comes.* Hawk thought to himself, shifting his focus to George, who had been watching his every move from across the table.

Just as George was about to speak, Helen, meeting the pleading look in Gwen’s eyes, smiled inwardly but spoke first: "By the way, George, tell us about your work. That Spider-Man, have you caught him yet?"

"..."

George looked at Helen, then gave a cryptic smile toward Gwen, and finally fixed his gaze on Hawk: "Not yet, but we will. After all, he’s an amateur, and he has left us plenty of clues."

Having said that, George didn't give Helen or Gwen another chance to interrupt. He looked at Hawk with a smile: "By the way, Hawk, what do you think of this recently emerged Spider-Man? Do you also think he is some sort of vigilante?"

Gwen’s left hand, hidden under the table, gave Hawk’s thigh a firm squeeze. Receiving her silent signal, Hawk chuckled and shook his head.

"Sir, I’ve been in Maryland all these days. I only just returned yesterday, and I spent today at the library reading."

"To be honest," he continued, "I’m still a student, so at the moment, I’m only concerned with whether I can get a scholarship to New York University, so that the bank will approve my loan application."

"As for that Spider-Man, I don't care whether he’s a vigilante or just some attention-seeking hippie criminal."