Hell's Kitchen felt like a tired old giant—steam leaked from vents, sirens echoed far away, and the whole city seemed to hum with noise. But inside a modest three-room apartment squeezed between two brick buildings, the atmosphere was warm and comfortable, filled with the smell of garlic cooking.
A beautiful woman stood in the small kitchen. Her dark hair fell over her shoulders as she stirred a pan. She checked the clock above the counter.
7:12 AM.
Her eyes widened.
"Kian! Are you ready yet?" she called, her voice easily carrying through the apartment.
From one of the bedrooms came the sound of rustling clothes and then a soft thud, like someone had bumped into something. After a moment, a boy's voice replied:
"Yeah! I'm almost done, Mom!"
Inside the simple, tidy room, a sixteen-year-old boy looked at himself in the mirror. His black hair lay neatly on his forehead, and his bright blue eyes stood out sharply against his pale skin. He had a naturally handsome face—sharp and clean, the kind that would catch attention anywhere else.
Kian Lake.
He still wasn't used to that name.
He straightened his shirt, took a deep breath, and whispered to himself:
"…Just another day. Stay calm. Act normal."
But behind those calm blue eyes, something was always moving—memories of another world, another life, and the moment he died.
On his wrist, a small golden mark shaped like a coin glowed faintly in the morning light.
If someone looked closely, they would notice the mark wasn't fully golden—it had a faint grey tint, like a battery still charging.
"How much is it now…?" Kian muttered.
He placed his hand over the coin mark, and a golden screen appeared in front of him.
[ System loading… 99% ]
Seeing this, Kian smiled.
"Just 1% more, and I'll get my cheat," he said happily.
Kian wasn't a normal boy.
He was someone born with memories from his previous life—a life from another world where this Marvel universe was nothing more than fiction.
Yet here he was.
He had regained his memories at the age of five, and at the same time, this golden coin-shaped mark had appeared on his wrist—visible only to him. It had been slowly loading ever since, and after all these years, it had finally reached 99%.
"Considering it took so long, it might take more than a week for the last 1%," he sighed.
Then he straightened up.
"Well… a few more days is nothing after waiting for all these years," he muttered before leaving his room and walking to the kitchen.
There, his mother—his new-life mother—was cooking.
She was a woman of Indian origin named Supriya.
Kian was half Indian and half American, though his skin was fair like his mother's, instead of the usual brown tone common in many Indian families.
"Morning, Mom," Kian said as he walked in.
"Sit, I'll serve you," she said.
Kian nodded and sat on the chair as she placed a sandwich and a glass of orange juice in front of him. He began eating while checking his phone.
Today was the year 2010.
The events of Iron Man, the Hulk, and the Abomination incident had already happened.
Tony Stark's face was everywhere on the news.
And thanks to Kian's decisions, their small family of two even owned 5% of Stark Industries, which explained how they could afford this comfortable, luxurious apartment.
Though they actually earned more than that.
It was Kian's idea—made back when Stark Industries' stock price had crashed horribly. He had begged his mother to invest all their savings. It took him a long time to convince her, and in the end she invested only 50% of her saved money.
If she had invested everything, they would have held far more than just 5%.
Back then, the price of Stark Industries had dropped to its lowest point. But after Tony became Iron Man publicly, the stock price skyrocketed, turning their investment into a fortune.
This made his mother go crazy for a while, regretting her decision to not use all her savings.
Even so, just 5% of a company as big as Stark Industries was more than enough to make them millionaires.
Because of that, his mother was able to leave her old job at a small, tiring company. Now she mostly worked at home as a private chef.
Her love for cooking—and delivering homemade food—had already made Kian's life feel blessed. He had even tried many times to convince her to open a restaurant. But she always refused.
According to his mom, she wanted to live a simple, peaceful life.
Being a mother was already more than enough responsibility for her.
Kian finished the last bite of his sandwich and drank the rest of his orange juice.
He wiped his mouth, picked up his school bag, and stood up from the table.
"I'm leaving, Mom," he said.
"Drive safely," Supriya replied with a warm smile. "And don't forget to eat lunch."
"I won't," Kian said, though they both knew he usually forgot.
He slipped on his shoes and stepped out of the apartment, locking the door behind him. The hallway of their building was quiet, the morning sun shining through dusty windows.
Outside, in the parking area, his car waited—a sleek Mercedes-Benz.
It looked almost out of place in the old neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen.
The car wasn't his choice.
His mother had insisted.
Since she never spent much money on herself and preferred simple living, she had given him everything he could possibly want.
Kian lived in comfort and luxury almost entirely because of her careful savings and the investment they made together years ago.
Kian opened the door, sat in the driver's seat, and started the engine. The soft hum of the Mercedes felt smooth and comforting.
As he pulled out onto the street, he sighed.
"Another day of school," he muttered. "At least I don't have to walk like before."
He glanced at his wrist for a moment.
The golden coin mark stayed dim—still at 99%.
"Come on," he whispered to himself. "Just finish loading already."