The lights in Gwen's room were dim.
Only a small bedside lamp was on, casting a patch of warm yellow light onto the floor.
The light was faint, unable to reach every corner of the room, yet it cast long shadows against the wall.
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed, her hands clasped on her knees.
She had changed back into her usual pajamas—a pale pink cotton nightgown with a ring of small flowers embroidered around the collar.
Her long golden hair was slightly messy, with a few stray strands hanging down to cover half her face.
She hadn't tied her hair back; it hung loose, making her look like a frightened little animal.
George stood by the window, his back to her.
Moonlight shone through the window, stretching his shadow long and far, reaching all the way to Gwen's feet.
He stood there, motionless, like a statue.
The room was so quiet that the ticking of the wall clock could be heard.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Every second felt like a strike against her heart.
Gwen didn't know how long this silence lasted.
It might have been a few minutes, or perhaps a century.
She only knew that her palms were sweaty and her heart was beating so fast it felt like it would burst from her chest.
She had imagined this scene many times.
She had thought about what her father's reaction would be when he discovered the truth.
Anger?
Disappointment?
Shock?
Or—
She hadn't expected him to be silent.
Silence was more terrifying than any emotion.
After a long time, George finally spoke.
"Are you saying," his voice was steady, so steady that no emotion could be detected, "that you were injected with some kind of spider serum by a woman named Silk, which resulted in you gaining spider powers?"
Gwen nodded.
Then she realized he was facing away from her and couldn't see.
"Yes," she replied softly, her voice as faint as a mosquito's hum.
George was silent for a few seconds.
"When did this happen?"
"About... three months ago."
George's hand clenched slightly.
It was a small movement, but Gwen saw it.
Three months.
His daughter had been a vigilante for three months.
Flying through the night sky of New York every night, fighting gangs, and risking her life against those monsters.
And he, her father the Police, knew nothing.
He even sat in the living room every day watching the news, watching J. Jonah Jameson curse her.
George's throat moved.
"That Silk," he said, his voice still steady, "I will investigate."
Gwen looked up at his back.
"Dad..."
"As for S.H.I.E.L.D.," George continued, his tone flat, "if they get involved, I will handle it."
Gwen froze.
S.H.I.E.L.D.?
He knew about S.H.I.E.L.D.?
George turned around and looked at her.
Moonlight shone on his face, revealing the complex emotions in his eyes.
There was shock.
There was anger.
There was worry.
There was also something Gwen couldn't understand—it was a deep, deep fear, like something buried in the bottom of his heart for many years.
He walked over and stopped in front of her.
Gwen had to look up to see his face.
George looked down at her, at this daughter he had raised for eighteen years.
From such a small child, she had grown to be this big.
He remembered when she was little, riding on his shoulders, hugging his head, giggling.
He remembered her first day of school, clutching his finger tightly, refusing to let go.
He remembered how she would be the first to run home and show him every time she received an award.
Now she was grown up.
She had her own secrets.
She had her own—responsibilities.
George took a deep breath.
"Gwen," he said, "do you know the consequences of doing this?"
Gwen lowered her head.
"I do."
"You do?" George's voice raised slightly. "Do you know what kind of organization The Hand is? Do you know who Kingpin is? Do you know what that Silk—whoever she is—is capable of?"
Gwen didn't speak.
George took a step closer.
"You will make enemies," he said, enunciating every word. "Many of them. The Hand, Kingpin, and that Silk—none of them will let you go."
Gwen's hands gripped the fabric of her nightgown.
"People will get hurt," George continued, his voice trembling slightly, "sometimes the people closest to you."
He paused.
"If your mother knew..."
Gwen looked up sharply.
"Dad, don't tell Mom."
George looked at her.
There was a hint of pleading in Gwen's eyes, and a glimmer of tears.
"She... she will worry. Her heart isn't good. She—I don't want her to worry."
George was silent for a few seconds.
He looked into his daughter's eyes, seeing everything hidden in those blue-gray pupils—fear, worry, and trust in him as a father.
He remembered what he had just said.
"If your mother knew—"
He didn't finish.
But Gwen knew what he wanted to say.
He didn't want Helen to know.
Because Helen would break down.
George sighed softly.
The sigh was light, but in this quiet room, it sounded exceptionally clear.
"I know," he said. "So—don't tell her."
Gwen froze.
George walked back to the window, looking out at the night.
In the distance, New York was brightly lit, with skyscrapers standing like glowing pillars in the darkness.
That was his city, the city he had guarded for decades.
Now, his daughter was guarding it too.
In her own way.
"This matter," he said, "you know, I know. Do not tell a third person."
Gwen opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back.
She thought of Peter.
Peter already knew.
George seemed to sense something and turned around.
"Also," he looked at her, his gaze becoming subtle, "that boyfriend of yours—Peter, right? He knows too?"
Gwen's heart skipped a beat.
She nodded.
George's brows furrowed.
"How much does he know?"
"Everything," Gwen confessed honestly, her voice getting quieter. "He made the suit. He also acts as a 'Prophet' and provides me with intelligence."
George's brows furrowed even tighter.
That kid.
That skinny, weak nerd who wore thick glasses and blushed whenever he saw anyone.
Made a suit for his daughter?
And acts as some kind of 'Prophet'?
Did he know what that meant?
George had worked in the Police department for over twenty years and had seen countless informants, undercover agents, and intelligence officers. He knew how much danger was hidden behind the words 'providing intelligence.'
That kid was braver than he imagined.
"He..."
George wanted to say something, but swallowed it back.
Never mind.
Although that kid didn't look like much, he could make a suit for his daughter and support her from behind the scenes—at least he was reliable.
At least he was better than those who only talked.
"Does he know his limits?" he asked.
Gwen nodded.
"He does. He is very careful. Before every operation, he helps me plan the route, checks for all dangers, and never lets me take risks."
George was silent for a few seconds.
Then he walked back to Gwen and sat down beside her.
The mattress sank slightly.
The father and daughter sat side by side, looking at the moonlight outside the window.
After a long time, George spoke.
"Gwen."
"Yeah?"
"You know what your father does."
Gwen nodded.
"I have seen too many people," George said, his voice becoming very soft. "The living, the dead. Good people, bad people. All of them."
He looked at the night outside the window, his gaze becoming distant.
"Some are criminals who deserve to die. Some are ordinary people, innocent victims. And some are—"
He paused.
"People like my daughter."
Gwen turned her head to look at him.
George didn't look at her.
He continued to look out the window.
"I once saw a young man," he said, "in his early twenties, just became a Police officer. He thought he could change the World, rushing to the front. Then, one bullet, and he was gone."
His voice trembled slightly.
"When his mother came to identify the body, she fainted three times from crying."
Gwen's hands clenched.
George finally turned his head to look at her.
"I don't want to see you in the morgue one day."
Gwen's eyes turned red instantly.
"Dad..."
"So," George interrupted her, saying every word clearly, "you have to promise me one thing."
Gwen looked at him.
In George's eyes, there was something she had never seen before—not the authority of a Police captain, not the worry of a father, but something deeper, almost a kind of fear.
"At any time," he said, "if you feel it's dangerous, run. Don't try to be a hero. Staying alive is the most important thing."
Gwen looked at him, seeing the deep worry in those eyes, and the even deeper love.
She nodded.
"I promise you."
George looked at her, slowly reached out, and patted her head.
The movement was light, just like when she was little.
His palm was large and warm, with a few calluses.
Gwen's tears finally fell.
George didn't speak.
He just gently ruffled her hair, just like when she was little.
After several seconds, he withdrew his hand and stood up.
Walking to the door, he stopped.
"That Silk," he said without turning his head, "I will investigate. And as for The Hand, I will find a way."
He paused.
"As for you—patrol when you should, rest when you should. Stay safe."
He pushed the door open and went out.
The door closed gently.
Gwen sat on the edge of the bed, looking at that door, not moving for a long time.
Tears were still flowing, but she didn't wipe them.
She just sat there, looking at that door, thinking about what her dad had just said.
"Staying alive is the most important thing."
She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders trembling slightly.
It wasn't sadness.
It was being moved.
It was relief.
It was an unspeakable, complex emotion after being understood.
So this was what it felt like to have the truth known.
She didn't know how long it had been when a soft tapping sound came from the window.
Gwen looked up and wiped her eyes.
She walked to the window and opened it.
The night wind rushed in, bringing a chill.
Peter stood on the windowsill, one hand gripping the frame, the other tapping the glass. Seeing her open it, he quickly climbed in.
After he steadied himself, the first thing he did was hug her tightly.
Gwen was stunned for a moment.
"Peter?"
Peter didn't speak.
He just held her, holding her so tightly that she could barely breathe.
His chin rested on her shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist, and his whole body was trembling slightly.
After several seconds, he loosened his grip a little and looked at her face.
Moonlight shone through the window onto her face.
Her eyes were red, and wet tears still hung on her eyelashes.
Peter's heart twisted.
"You cried?"
Gwen shook her head.
"No."
Peter looked at her red eyes, not exposing her lie.
He just raised his hand and gently wiped the tear stains from the corner of her eyes.
The movement was light, as if he was afraid of hurting her.
"Your dad," he asked, "what did he say?"
Gwen was silent for a few seconds.
Then she slowly recounted the conversation they had just had.
Peter listened, his expression becoming increasingly complex.
When he heard George say "staying alive is the most important thing," his eyes brightened slightly.
When he heard George say "don't tell your mom," he nodded gently.
When he heard George say "stay safe," he exhaled a long breath.
"...That's it?" he asked. "He didn't say you couldn't go out?"
Gwen shook her head.
"He said, let me stay safe."
Peter froze.
He stood by the window, looking at Gwen, not knowing what he was thinking.
After several seconds, he suddenly smiled.
The smile was light, but very warm.
"Gwen."
"Yeah?"
"Your dad is truly a good father."
Gwen looked at him and smiled too.
"I know."
Peter hugged her again.
This time, he held her for longer.
Gwen buried her face in his shoulder, smelling the faint scent of laundry detergent on him.
It was very comforting.
"From now on," Peter said softly, "I'll be with you."
Gwen didn't speak.
She just tightened her arms around his waist.
The two of them stood by the window, holding each other like that.
Moonlight shone through the window, casting their shadows onto the floor, merging them together so it was impossible to tell who was who.
After a long time, Peter said softly.
"Gwen."
"Yeah?"
"That black suit—the incident today, are you going to tell your dad?"
Gwen thought for a moment.
"Next time," she said. "Today's information overload is already enough."
Peter nodded.
"That symbiote... are you really going to keep wearing it?"
Gwen was silent for a few seconds.
"It gives me power," she said. "Much stronger than before. I need that power."
Peter looked at her, his gaze filled with a hint of worry.
"But if it affects you—"
"I will control it," Gwen interrupted him. "I won't let it control me."
Peter looked into her eyes; in those blue-gray pupils, there was a kind of determination he had never seen before.
He nodded.
"Okay. If there's any problem, tell me immediately."
Gwen smiled.
"Okay."
Peter hugged her again.
Then he let go, preparing to leave.
Walking to the window, he suddenly stopped.
"Gwen."
"Yeah?"
"No matter what problems that symbiote has," he turned back to look at her, saying earnestly, "I will help you solve them."
Moonlight shone on his face, revealing the sincerity in his eyes.
Gwen looked at him, and a wave of warmth surged in her heart.
"I know."
Peter climbed out the window and disappeared into the night.
Gwen stood by the window, looking at the lit window next door.
Peter's shadow flickered in front of the window, and then the light went out.
She smiled softly.
Lying back on the bed, she stared at the ceiling.
The piece of peeling wallpaper was still there, shaped like a chubby pigeon.
She stared at it for a long time.
Too many things had happened today.
Dad found out the truth.
She put on the symbiote suit.
Almost killed someone.
But didn't.
Gwen remembered the feeling of that moment—anger burning in her veins like Fire, power surging in every muscle. She wanted to kill that ninja. It was easy. Like crushing an ant.
But her dad's voice pulled her back.
"Gwen."
Just a name.
Pulled her back from the edge of the cliff.
Gwen closed her eyes.
She remembered what her dad said—"staying alive is the most important thing."
She remembered what Peter said—"I'll be with you."
She remembered that her mom didn't know yet, was still asleep downstairs, knowing nothing.
The corners of Gwen's mouth slowly curled up.
Outside the window, the moonlight shone quietly.
In the night sky in the distance, something was glowing faintly.
That was tomorrow's Sun.
And tonight, she could sleep in peace.