Peter waved to Loren a little awkwardly, then said hello—again, awkwardly.
Unlike Loren and Harry, who were both handsome and tall, Peter Parker wore thick glasses and a plaid shirt: the quintessential outfit of a science-and-engineering geek. He looked unassuming, even rustic.
Moreover, Peter's family background was very ordinary—bordering on poor.
As a result, he suffered from extreme insecurity. He always kept his head down when walking and gave off an air of deep gloom.
Looking at the Peter Parker standing before him, Loren couldn't help but feel unsettled.
This Peter was nothing like the one he remembered from his own universe.
In the main universe, Peter Parker might not have come from a privileged background, but he radiated positivity and infectious energy.
Yet the Peter in front of him seemed dull, lifeless—even weighed down by a quiet despair.
Still, based on the fused memories he'd inherited, Loren couldn't pinpoint anything actually wrong with this version of Peter Parker.
At least, not yet. So he chose not to dwell on it. Instead, he smiled and gave Peter's shoulder a friendly pat.
"It's been a while since we last met. I never expected to run into you here today. What a great chance to catch up—maybe grab a few drinks together."
As Loren spoke, he led the three of them toward the banquet hall.
Just then, a middle-aged man in a crisp white suit strode out of the hall, beaming as he made his way toward them.
Close behind him trailed a swarm of TV reporters, cameras hoisted high.
Flashes erupted like fireworks around the man—so rapid and intense that his face was nearly impossible to see clearly.
To someone unfamiliar, it might have looked like a school of luminous fish darting through the air.
And who else could this star-surrounded figure be but Tony Stark—the so-called "Genius Playboy Billionaire"?
"Master Morgan! My apologies—I had no idea you'd be attending the party in person. Had I known, I'd have been waiting right here to greet you!"
Though Tony Stark was New York's most famous playboy, he was also one of America's wealthiest men and a technological prodigy.
Even so, his fortune and fame paled in comparison to old-money dynasties like the Morgan family.
What's more, Loren Morgan was the second-largest shareholder in Stark Industries—so of course Tony made a point of personally welcoming him.
For all his brilliance, even a genius like Stark understood the rules of high society.
The moment Tony uttered the words "Master Morgan," the reporters' eyes widened in shock.
They instantly recognized the impossibly handsome young man before them.
In unison, the flashing lights ceased.
Every journalist lowered their camera with practiced discretion.
No one dared photograph Loren without explicit permission.
After all, he was the sole heir to the Morgan dynasty—and no one understood better than these reporters just how untouchable that name truly was.
Many of them worked for media companies and TV stations owned and controlled by the Morgan family.
After all, as a chaebol family whose wealth rivaled that of entire nations, shaping a country's public discourse and steering public opinion was simply standard practice—
and, of course, a necessary one.
Tony Stark, by comparison, was at most a celebrity businessman: a tech-savvy heir to a fortune, nothing more.
The reporters had merely snapped a few photos—and the key point was that Loren himself didn't mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.
Because the Loren Morgan standing before them wasn't just another guest. To some extent, he was the one who paid their salaries—and the unseen hand behind their editors-in-chief.
In that light, how could they possibly act presumptuously in front of him?
One by one, the reporters lowered their cameras and stopped filming.
Loren found the whole scene rather amusing—and secretly, he was pleased.
Truly, he thought, there's nothing quite like being part of a major chaebol.
Status meant standing above the rest of the world.
And this feeling—of being both feared and admired—was undeniably intoxicating.
He'd already grown fond of it.
"Our Mr. Iron Man," Loren said with a warm smile as Tony approached, "you really don't need to be so formal with me. After all, we're family."
As the second-largest shareholder of Stark Industries, Loren was, by all rights, one of the company's top executives. So calling Tony "family" wasn't just flattery—it was fact.
Still, it seemed this was the first time Tony had heard such a claim. He blinked in surprise, then recovered quickly, offering a nod and a carefully measured smile.
"You're absolutely right," Tony said. "We are family. After all, you are the second-largest shareholder of Stark Industries."
"Exactly!" Loren grinned. "Since we're on the same team, I won't stand on ceremony. I need to go greet some friends—Gwen, Peter, and the others. You go ahead and do your thing!"
Just as Loren turned to lead his group toward the banquet hall, a woman stepped forward.
She had striking features, vivid green hair, and a curvaceous figure. Gathering her courage, she looked directly at Loren and asked, "Mr. Morgan… would you mind if I took your picture?"
The crowd fell silent. Everyone held their breath, bracing for Loren's reaction—sure he'd be annoyed, perhaps even furious.
But to their surprise, Loren didn't scowl. Instead, his eyes flicked to her face, then swept over her with open curiosity.
After a beat, the corners of his mouth lifted into a knowing smile.
"Of course," he said smoothly. "But you'd better make me look handsome. If I don't like the photo, I might just make things difficult for you."
The woman laughed brightly, flashing a wide, flirtatious grin. "Don't worry! You're so handsome in person, I couldn't possibly make you look bad—even if I tried!"
As she spoke, her movements caused a noticeable sway—a detail that didn't escape the male onlookers, many of whom exchanged glances, their pulses quickening.
Loren was no exception. He studied her for a long moment, then chuckled appreciatively.
"You really know how to charm a man," he said. "By the way—I happen to be passionate about photography myself. Would you be interested in a private discussion later? Think of it as a… technical exchange."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "Of course! It would be an honor!"
Loren gave a satisfied nod. "Then it's settled. Be sure to come find me later."
He struck a relaxed pose and turned to the assembled reporters. "Today's a good day—feel free to take as many photos as you like! I don't mind at all."
Relieved and thrilled by his permission, the journalists immediately raised their cameras again, snapping photos of Loren with renewed enthusiasm.
In mere seconds, Tony Stark—the evening's original star—was pushed to the sidelines. The spotlight now belonged entirely to Loren.
Tony watched the scene unfold, a wry smile tugging at his lips. He'd spent years building his reputation as Iron Man, craving attention and adoration.
And now, with just a few words and a smile, this young heir had effortlessly stolen the show.
Well, Tony mused, they do say comparison is the thief of joy.