"1930, under the Republicans' control, the House passed legislation that further deepened the Great Depression. Who can tell me—what bill did the government pass?"
On the podium, the middle-aged history teacher swept his gaze across the class.
But below, the students were either dozing off or whispering to each other. No one seemed willing to answer.
"The Tariff Act, also known as the Smoot–Hawley Tariff Act."
Diligent student Gwen Stacy rose from her seat, coming to the teacher's rescue.
"Exactly right, Miss Stacy."
The teacher nodded with satisfaction before continuing, "And what was the effect? In truth, the bill solved nothing. The U.S. government only sank deeper into the Depression that followed."
At the back of the classroom, Peter Parker's eyes were neither on the podium nor on his textbook.
Instead, his mind lingered on the knowledge he had brought back from his other life in the Xenomorph world. He absentmindedly jotted down notes in his notebook—scraps of information that might someday connect into an answer.
Suddenly
A scream ripped through the hallway outside!
The piercing cry jolted awake the drowsy students.
The history teacher froze for a second, then hurried to the door. He flung it open and peered outside.
Not far away, near the storage closet where cleaning tools were kept, a crowd of students had gathered.
Beside them, one student sat slumped on the ground, pale and trembling in terror.
The teacher thought to keep his students back, but curiosity had already won—they surged out the door in a rush.
Peter followed the tide until he reached the storage room.
The sight inside made his breath catch.
Suspended in the very center of the room was a cocoon, roughly the size of an adult.
It was spun entirely of spider silk, shaped like a human body, and reeking of a sickly, rotting stench.
Peter knew that stench well. Brow furrowed, he stepped closer.
The cocoon had been torn open on one side, revealing what lay within.
A gray, decaying face stared back at them.
The mouth hung open, as if frozen mid-scream, and the eyes bulged wide in eternal terror. The twisted features were ghastly to behold.
Those standing close enough to see it clearly gagged and retched violently.
"Holy crap! What is that?!"
"I—I can't—ugh!"
Students with weaker stomachs clutched their mouths and stumbled away.
Girls shrieked, their screams mixing with the chaos until the hallway was a storm of panic.
"It's… it's Josh! Josh Robert—the quarterback of the football team!"
One sharp-eyed student recognized the corpse immediately.
Josh had been absent from school for days. Everyone assumed he had simply taken leave. No one imagined he would be found like this—dead, cocooned in silk.
"It's you—it's you, Peter!"
A voice rang out above the noise.
It was Kenny McFarlane, Peter's classmate and frequent bully, his finger trembling as he pointed at him.
Kenny was massive, bald, and broad-shouldered—his nickname around school was "Kong."
At his side stood "Flash" Thompson, the other half of Midtown's notorious bullying duo.
They had kept their heads down since Peter had humiliated Josh not long ago. But now, faced with this grotesque discovery, they turned on him without hesitation.
"Ever since you beat Josh, he vanished! No school, no practice—nothing! You did this, Parker! You killed him!"
Kong's voice quavered with fear, but his accusation cut through the crowd.
Flash stood beside him, nodding furiously in agreement.
In an instant, every eye turned toward Peter.
The accused murderer looked back at them with an expression as calm as stone.
Then his cold gaze shifted, locking on Kong and Flash.
Kong flinched and stumbled back a step, his bravado cracking. Realizing his fear made him look weak, he puffed up and stepped forward again.
"Shut up!"
Before Peter could speak, Gwen's voice rang out, sharp with fury.
"You have no proof—don't you dare slander him! Do you even understand what you're saying?!"
Her face burned with anger.
Yes, she knew Peter and Josh had clashed before. But that didn't mean Peter was a killer.
She believed in him—in the Peter who was kind, and good, and incapable of taking a life in cold blood.
Peter himself felt no anger at the accusation.
After all, it wasn't him. And even if it had been—what gave these people the right to pass judgment?
Strangers' scorn? Their fear? Their hatred?
Sorry, but he felt no burden. No shame. No weight beneath their stares.
He turned his eyes back to the cocooned corpse, mind racing.
The killer had used spider silk as their tool.
Could it have been Spider-Man?
Impossible.
The true Spider-Man had yet to be born. Where, then, had this "Spider-Man" come from?
The crowd's panic swelled, voices rising until the hallway rang with confusion and fear. Finally, the history teacher shook himself from his stupor and began restoring order.
Most students were ushered away, leaving only two or three to keep watch and prevent anyone from entering. The teacher sent another to fetch the principal.
Once the area was cleared, the teacher's face tightened as his eyes landed on Peter.
"Parker, come with me to the office."
"I'm coming too."
Gwen stepped forward at once, planting herself at Peter's side.
"No need."
Peter shook his head calmly, signaling he would be fine.
Watching him leave with the teacher, Gwen stamped her foot in frustration.
Then an idea struck. She pulled out her phone and quickly dialed.
"Dad—it's me, Gwen. Of course it's me! Yes, I know it's during class, but you never said I couldn't call you."
Forcing her voice steady, she continued, "Something happened at school. But it's not Peter's fault. You need to help him."
"Yes, I'm calm. I'm perfectly calm!"
That afternoon.
There was a sharp knock on the vice principal's office door.
Assistant Principal Morton opened it to find a worried woman standing outside.
Her anxious eyes immediately found Peter, sitting stiffly in a chair.
Before Morton could say a word, Aunt May rushed inside and threw her arms around her nephew.
Peter felt the tremor in her body as she clutched him tight.
After a pause, he slowly lifted his arms and returned her embrace.
"Are you alright, Peter?"
She pulled back, her hands gripping his tightly, her eyes rimmed with red. "Your Uncle Ben and I came as soon as we heard. Thank God you're safe."
Uncle Ben's heavy footsteps echoed in the hall, and moments later, his familiar face appeared in the doorway.