The morning sun lazily shone into the classroom. Damian rested his chin in one hand, twirled a pen with the other, and stared blankly at the chemical equation on the blackboard, utterly bored.
His mind wasn't on the lesson at all. Instead, it was fixated on the mysterious ball of light that had been hovering in his thoughts ever since it appeared. The thing had remained completely silent—no matter how hard Damian tried to interact with it, it gave no response, as if it were dead.
Just as he was wondering whether he'd activated it the wrong way, a hushed voice suddenly came from behind him.
"Hey, Liz, let me tell you…"
A Black girl with dreadlocks leaned toward the blonde girl beside her and whispered mysteriously:
"My brother's college classmate was on a road trip with his girlfriend along US-9 a few days ago… and—guess what? They went missing!"
The blonde girl's eyes widened. She covered her mouth with both hands and gasped, "What? That's terrifying! Is it true?"
"Absolutely! The NYPD and FBI launched a massive search, but all they found was their car abandoned on the roadside—covered in blood. Both of them were gone without a trace!"
The girl nodded solemnly, gesturing dramatically with her hands.
"Hiss—" The blonde girl sucked in a sharp breath, then suddenly brightened. "Wait! I think I've heard something like this before! My dad mentioned a case from about twenty years ago—also near US-9. Lots of people died, but they never caught the killer…"
Damian pricked up his ears. Without realizing it, he leaned closer and closer toward the voices behind him.
"A string of highway disappearances? A bloodstained car? Over twenty years ago? This plot sounds… oddly familiar…"
But just as he was hanging on every word—the two girls fell silent.
Damian nearly groaned in frustration. *How dare they stop right at the best part?*
**Bang!**
He slapped his own thigh in exasperation, spun around, and was about to scold the girls for their infuriating habit of starting a story and never finishing it—
—only to freeze mid-turn and whip back around in an instant.
Because the chemistry teacher, who'd been at the front of the room just moments ago, was now standing directly behind him.
"Mr. Zagan," the teacher said coldly, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights, "what exactly was that about?"
Damian turned back with a sheepish grin and addressed Mr. Dwight with exaggerated sincerity:
"Oh! Uh… nothing, sir! I just remembered—my mom called yesterday to say our dog had her second litter and needs to stay in bed for the rest of the month, so she asked me to go home and cover for her. I was about to ask for leave… but then I realized that studying is far more important! So I told my dad to take over Chloe's… uh, duties."
"…"
_______
Time flew, and before he knew it, lunchtime had arrived.
In the multipurpose media room, Damian pulled an elegant bento box from his schoolbag. Inside were braised pork ribs, sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and a small container of strawberry pudding.
This was something he'd specially prepared the night before. After all, after traveling to the Marvel universe, the only thing he could do to comfort himself was think: *"At least I get to eat something good."*
However, Peter Parker, sitting across from him, had a far less sumptuous lunch.
He looked down at his meal—carefully packed by Aunt May: a dry sandwich, a small bag of potato chips, and a bottle of cheap orange juice.
"…"
**I'm very angry.JPG**
Suddenly, Peter Parker had an idea. He smiled slyly and said,
"Z, you know what? I recently did a super interesting experiment in biology class!"
Damian hadn't yet grasped the seriousness of the situation and replied casually,
"Oh? What experiment?"
Hearing this, Peter leaned forward with exaggerated enthusiasm:
"It was an experiment observing the growth and development of maggots. The sight of those plump, white creatures burrowing in and out of rotting flesh was truly…
Oh, right! Mr. Prissy also asked me to help test a new type of artificial gastric juice. It tastes just like—"
By the time Peter finished his story, Damian's expression had transformed into **"Old man on the subway staring at mobile phone.JPG."**
Peter took a bite of his sandwich, glanced at Damian—who had suddenly gone silent—and asked with a grin,
"Eh? Z, why aren't you eating? Are you full already?"
At that, Damian set down his lunchbox, gave Peter a calm look, and asked,
"Peter, have you ever heard of *hákarl*—a fermented Icelandic delicacy?"
Peter, who had just taken a sip of juice, shook his head honestly.
"Uh… no. What's wrong with it?"
Damian's face immediately lit up with a bright smile. He leaned in and said slowly,
"Icelandic fermented shark meat—*hákarl*—is one of Iceland's most iconic traditional foods, famous for its intense ammonia smell and unique fermentation process.
"The traditional method involves burying the shark meat in a sand or gravel pit, covering it with sand and stones, and weighting it down. It's then left to ferment for three to six months, allowing microbes to break down the urea and toxins, rendering the meat edible.
"Once fermentation is complete, the shark is hung in a well-ventilated area to air-dry for another four to five months—until the surface turns dark brown while the inside still retains its fat.
"Icelanders typically cut *hákarl* into small cubes and eat it raw as an appetizer or side dish, often paired with *Brennivín*, a potent schnapps.
"It's traditionally served during *Þorrablót*—Iceland's midwinter festival—alongside other delicacies like singed sheep's heads and blood pudding.
"According to those who've tried it, the taste resembles ammonia or stale urine. Taking a bite is like kissing a hundred smelly socks with your tongue—some even say it's like 'sipping through a straw stuck in a public toilet.'
"And when you eat it, you're supposed to chew gently at first… then swallow quickly to avoid the stench overwhelming your mouth."
Peter Parker silently set down both his juice and his sandwich.
Around them, other students eating lunch also put down their food and stared at the two troublemakers—Damian and Peter Parker—with deep, resentful eyes.
*Some people are alive, but they're already dead. Some people are dead… but should've died long ago.*
Damian looked at Peter, whose expression clearly said, *"I was wrong, but you're wrong if you don't forgive me,"* and smiled brightly. With exaggerated concern, he asked,
"Eh? Peter, why aren't you eating anymore? Are you full already?"
"...…"