The Dark Knight of Marvel

Perhaps it was because New York was still immersed in the sorrow of losing a beloved friend.

Even the security personnel at New York University seemed somewhat despondent.

They kept scrolling through their phones, reading everything about Spider-Man.

Muttering unconsciously, "He once helped me before…"

As a result, they failed to notice a shadowy figure slipping into the building in a rather unfathomable manner.

Wayne understood their nostalgia and respect for Spider-Man.

But that had nothing to do with him.

What Wayne needed to do was use the computers here to establish a foolproof identity for himself.

Adjusting his hood, Wayne maneuvered effortlessly through the university, evading every surveillance camera, despite never having set foot in NYU before.

It didn't take him long to find his target.

The university's computer lab.

However, the lab was currently locked, with an electronic security system making it clear to anyone attempting entry that it was no mere decoration.

Clearly, they didn't want overly diligent students sneaking in at night to study—especially with Christmas just around the corner.

Wayne, unfazed, simply retrieved a small gadget from his utility belt.

Pressing it against the lock, he barely had to wait before the electronic mechanism disengaged completely.

After a quick glance around, Wayne slipped inside the computer lab.

Smooth and seamless.

Confirming that no student had accidentally dozed off inside, Wayne got to work immediately.

Though the computers here weren't particularly advanced, they were more than sufficient for him to craft an entirely flawless identity.

The dimly lit lab was illuminated only by the glow of the screen in front of Wayne.

His baseball cap, combined with the hood from his sweatshirt, concealed his face completely from the surveillance cameras.

The only sound in the room was the rhythmic tapping of keys.

By the time the sun rose, Wayne had everything he needed.

He found himself once again impressed by his current body—despite staying up all night, he felt completely energized.

And in the span of one night, he had finished all preparations.

A legal identity, a valid driver's license, a legitimate bank account, and even a Social Security number.

He had even ensured that the IRS had records of the taxes "he" had paid over the years.

"We truly appreciate your business, Mr. Kane. You will always be one of our most valued clients," the bank manager said with a smile, extending a hand toward Wayne.

"Until next time." Wayne shook the manager's hand before turning to leave.

As soon as he exited, the bank tellers began whispering excitedly about the striking man they had just seen.

A handsome—no, even sexy—man dressed in the most unfitting outfit, exuding an air of dramatic contrast.

Their chatter only stopped when the manager returned.

Despite his initial wariness about Wayne's preference for cash—in America, only certain types of people carried large amounts of it—everything Wayne provided proved that he was, in every way, a legitimate citizen.

Even if the manager had his doubts, there was no reason to refuse an ordinary customer from depositing money in their bank.

By the time Wayne stepped out of the last bank, he was no longer just a "bat" wandering around with millions in cash.

He was now a millionaire named Bruce Wayne.

His next step was clear.

To get himself some proper attire.

Standing on the fitting platform at Gucci, Wayne was being measured and consulted by a tailor.

"Sir, is this for a formal occasion or a social event?"

"Social."

"Daytime or evening?"

"I need one for the daytime and one for the evening."

"What style?"

"Italian."

"How many buttons?"

"Two."

Since Wayne didn't have a fixed address at the moment, he would have to come back in a couple of days to pick up his suits.

Even so, he still changed into a completely new outfit from head to toe.

The well-fitted three-piece suit gave Wayne a completely refreshed appearance.

Looking into the distance at the memorial service for Spider-Man, where his family members were giving speeches, Wayne remained silent and walked in the opposite direction of the crowd.

He had already come to understand what kind of world he was in.

After all, he had seen movies from this world before. A world with multiple Spider-Men was bound to pique anyone's curiosity.

He had once been one of those intrigued viewers.

Especially when it featured Gwen Stacy—who later became the public's beloved icon.

That made her all the more unforgettable.

But none of that had anything to do with him now.

Right now, he needed to quickly get everything in order in this world.

Clearly, he wasn't someone with special abilities, and leaving this world seemed nearly impossible.

The only thing he could do was start a new life here.

Given the circumstances, his options were quite limited.

"Isn't it a bit small?" Thomas frowned as he looked at the house Wayne had chosen through his eyes.

"If I had inherited the full Wayne fortune, do you think I'd be living here?" Wayne was quite satisfied with the small standalone house in front of him.

Though constructing a Batcave here in the future would be a massive project.

Thomas didn't know what else to say.

It was true—though he had distanced himself from Wayne Enterprises in the past, he had still lived in Wayne Manor.

Naturally, this house felt far too small by comparison.

"At least now, I have a place to stay."

After parking his newly purchased car, Wayne stepped onto the lawn in front of his house, gazing into the distance.

"Even if this place happens to be uncomfortably close to a potential troublemaker."

A few people were placing items at the doorstep of a nearby house.

Sometimes, the very things one wishes to avoid are the ones that end up right in their path.

Wayne had done his best to steer clear of anything related to Spider-Man, but the reality was that this was the only place he could find—one that suited his needs, allowed him to move in immediately, and wouldn't strain his budget.

And it just so happened to be a standalone house, barely a hundred meters from Spider-Man's home.

Wayne could already see an elderly white-haired woman being helped inside.

Who else could it be but Aunt May?

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?" Mary Jane looked at the elderly Aunt May with concern.

She was genuinely worried about her emotional state.

The pain of a white-haired elder burying a black-haired youth was something that could never be easy to bear.

(End of Chapter)

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