"Well… I'm still thinking about it," Peter said, leaning back slightly in his seat. "MIT is on the East Coast, but the north is way too cold. California's nice—Stanford is definitely on my list. But it's too far from home. Aunt May wouldn't want me that far away."
He paused, then added with a faint smile,
"If I go there, we might have to move."
In truth, Peter did prefer Stanford.
Right next to Silicon Valley—the global center of high-tech innovation.
If he wanted to build a company… or help Uncle Ben build one—
There was no better place.
Of course, there was another reason.
New York was simply too dangerous.
As the so-called "center of the universe," life for New Yorkers was… rough.
One day, a green giant falls from the sky.
The next, a purple warlord invades with an alien fleet.
Insurance companies in New York were practically crying blood.
Hundreds of billions in damages, over and over again—
Who could survive that?
Peter certainly didn't want the company he built from scratch to end up as a stage for some cosmic villain.
So honestly—
Leaving New York wasn't a bad idea.
…
"I actually think Stanford is great too," Gwen said with a soft sigh. "But my family wants me to go to Oxford."
Her background wasn't ordinary.
Deputy Chief of the NYPD—
That was no small position.
In a city like New York, the world's financial and economic center, that level of authority carried serious weight.
And the reason her family preferred Oxford…
Came down to philosophy.
Schools like Stanford, MIT, even Harvard—
Focused heavily on science and engineering.
They produced physicists, mathematicians, innovators.
Oxford, on the other hand—
Was steeped in history.
A cradle of the humanities.
In simple terms, Gwen's family wanted her to become a scholar—
Not an engineer.
Not a scientist.
…
"Oxford, huh…"
Peter considered it seriously.
The UK wasn't exactly a disaster hotspot in the Marvel Universe.
But more importantly—
It had something he liked.
A rich historical and cultural background.
Which meant—
Artifacts.
Lots of them.
And Europe's countries were close together.
With his current abilities, Peter could literally fly from the UK to Italy in a single night—and back.
He had already planned to pay the Vatican a "visit" anyway.
So going to the UK?
Convenient.
Very convenient.
…
While the two of them casually discussed their futures—debating between Stanford, MIT, and Oxford—
The rest of the students on the bus…
Were suffering.
Because Peter and Gwen weren't exactly whispering.
And the bus wasn't exactly spacious.
(In fact, Gwen was practically squeezed into Peter's arms.)
So everyone heard everything.
And honestly—
Who could take it?
It was like this:
A group of struggling students discussing their mock exam scores—
"Hey, I barely made it to a third-tier university level."
"Nice, I'm almost at second-tier!"
"Congrats, man!"
And then—
Two top students walk by.
"What do you think about Cambridge University?"
"It's fine, but I prefer Harvard. Though Princeton has more beautiful girls… Caltech's not bad either."
Tell me—
Is that even something a human should say?
And just like that, the journey passed in an atmosphere thick with jealousy.
The group had left around 10 AM—
And by just before 3 PM, they had arrived in Washington, D.C.
There was no competition scheduled for the first day.
The teacher generously gave everyone time to rest and prepare for tomorrow.
So naturally—
Everyone scattered to enjoy themselves.
…
"Want to go out for a bit?" Peter asked.
After dropping off his luggage, he found Gwen almost immediately.
Of course, that was just an excuse.
Now that they were here, there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy some alone time with his girlfriend.
But just as they reached the hotel entrance—
Peter's expression shifted.
Subtly.
Then again.
Then once more.
"…Looks like our plans are about to change."
His gaze drifted toward the entrance.
A black sedan was slowly pulling in.
That, by itself, wasn't unusual.
What was unusual—
Was the presence he felt.
A distinct mental fluctuation.
A psychic.
…
Psychics weren't common.
If they were, Peter wouldn't have specifically sought out this kind of power.
Counting the old man from that night—
This made four.
Even among mutants, that frequency was… abnormal.
"Who could it be…?"
As he was still thinking—
The car door opened.
And the moment Peter saw the person stepping out—
Everything clicked.
"Of course… it's you."
Senator Kelly.
Or rather—Mystique. Raven Darkhölme.
…
After learning that Peter had arrived in Washington, she hadn't wasted a second.
She had come personally—Bringing Psylocke with her.
Peter's gaze briefly lingered on Psylocke, recalling everything he knew about her.
But to Gwen—That looked like something else entirely.
Her expression subtly changed.
Because no matter how composed she was—
No girl liked seeing her boyfriend stare at another woman.
Especially—A dangerously seductive one.
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T/N:
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