After leaving the suit shop, Peter didn't stay long in the mall and instead walked directly toward the Broadway theater.
With his current wealth, he could easily afford more expensive suits—$600 was nothing to him now. Even a $10,000 suit wouldn't hurt his bank account. After all, he had robbed Kingpin's underground casino and walked away with $5.6 million, making him a bona fide millionaire.
But the reason he didn't go all out on flashy suits was simple: he didn't want to be too conspicuous before his power had reached a sufficient level. If he suddenly started flaunting wealth, George Stacy would definitely question it. And as a veteran police officer, Stacy's suspicions would likely land Peter in trouble—not something he wanted.
The old adage held true: before gaining enough strength, stay cautious. It's the only way to survive longer.
As Peter walked toward the theater, his thoughts were interrupted by a sweet voice beside him.
"Handsome, want to buy some roses? Today's Valentine's Day! Buy some for your girlfriend!"
A rather pretty white woman with large, round eyes approached him, holding a flower basket full of beautiful roses in various colors.
"Valentine's Day?" Peter echoed, more surprised by the date than interested in the flowers.
If the woman hadn't mentioned it, he wouldn't have realized it was Valentine's Day. No wonder Gwen and her friends had a performance tonight.
Wait a second—on Valentine's night, Gwen invited him to watch her perform. That added an extra layer of meaning to the invitation and sent his imagination spinning.
"Yes, today is Valentine's Day. On this day, boys give roses to the girls they love, and then they have beautiful love," the woman explained enthusiastically.
Peter smacked his lips. "Do boys have to give to girls? Can't it go the other way around?"
"It's not impossible," the woman replied with a chuckle, "but it's pretty rare. A guy who waits for flowers from a girl probably wouldn't have a girlfriend in the first place."
"Is that so?" Peter murmured. "Seems like gender equality still has a long way to go in this world."
"Sir, are you waiting for a girl to give you something?" she asked curiously, smiling.
"No, no. I'm a man, not a boy. So give me ten, thank you!" Peter pulled out a $100 bill and handed it to her.
"Sir, you're so humorous! I bet lots of women like you," the woman beamed as she took the money.
"Quite the opposite," Peter sighed. "I'm a poor soul unloved by anyone. But beautiful lady, I don't suppose you'd refuse a rose from a guy like me?"
After receiving the ten red roses, Peter pulled one out and handed it to her.
The woman didn't expect the gesture and was caught off guard, then burst into a delighted smile.
"Sir, thank you for the flower!" she said, clearly pleased.
"You're welcome. Let's wake up together sometime," Peter teased with a playful grin, then turned and continued on his way to the theater, holding the remaining nine roses.
However, before he could enter, a group of people began exiting—the performance had ended.
Peter sighed. Gwen had personally invited him to a show for the first time in her life, and he missed it. What a shame. He could already picture how angry she'd be.
Then, four familiar figures appeared before him—Gwen and Mary Jane among them.
Yes, it was the full lineup of the Mary Janes band: Mary Jane Watson, Betty Brant, Gloria Grant, and Gwen Stacy. Accompanying them was a tall, handsome man: Harry Osborn, Peter's good friend from college.
As they saw Peter, their expressions shifted instantly.
Gwen frowned slightly, her red lips pursed, clearly annoyed that Peter hadn't arrived on time.
Mary Jane and Harry looked awkward. They owed their current relationship to Peter—he had been their "useful tool."
Mary Jane, though initially uncomfortable, was now visibly stunned.
In her mind, Peter had always been a nerdy, thin, average-looking guy. Aside from his academic prowess, he had no appealing traits. That's why she never took his past affections seriously.
But the Peter before her now was unrecognizable: taller, stronger, more handsome, and dressed in a black suit that gave him the look of a wealthy heir.
"Hi, Peter, long time no see!" Harry greeted him, doing his best to hide the awkwardness.
As Peter's former best friend, Harry understood the depth of what he'd done—dating someone Peter had clearly liked. That betrayal created distance between them, and Harry knew things could never return to how they once were.
They had briefly crossed paths at Aunt May's funeral, but that was different. Peter was overwhelmed then and didn't have time for personal interactions. Today was different.
Despite all this, Peter felt calm. After all, he wasn't the real Peter Parker. In his heart, he felt nothing but indifference and a bit of satisfaction.
He was glad the original Peter hadn't ended up with Mary Jane. She was a textbook green tea girl, and if Peter had gotten involved with her, it would've been a tragedy.
Now that she had nothing to do with him, he felt relieved. In fact, he hoped she and Harry stayed together forever—less damage to others that way.
"Honestly, not seeing each other might be for the best, Mr. Harry Osborn," Peter said coolly.
Although he didn't harbor deep resentment, there was no reason to be polite. He wasn't a saint, and he didn't feel the need to act like one.
Harry and Mary Jane's embarrassment only deepened, but Peter didn't spare them another glance. Instead, he walked over to Gwen with the roses and put on a playful smile.
"Your performance outfit is stunning—like a fairy descended to Earth. My eyes were nearly blinded by your beauty."
He exaggeratedly shielded his eyes, striking a comedic pose.
Gwen was furious at first—this was the first time she'd invited a boy to her performance, and he had stood her up completely. She had been planning to scold him.
But faced with Peter's cheeky charm and cringe-worthy sweet talk, her anger dissolved and was replaced by the urge to laugh.
"Don't think sweet words will get you off the hook. You still owe me a proper apology. I won't forgive you unless you treat me to a big meal."
"No problem at all. I already reserved a restaurant. I came here to pick you up—and to apologize. These nine roses are for you. I hope you'll like them... and forgive me. I really had an emergency."
Gwen's heart softened. Taking the roses, her anger melted completely, and her smile blossomed like the flowers in her hands.
"Alright, you're forgiven. But don't let it happen again," she warned as she accepted the bouquet.
Then, to everyone's surprise, she grabbed Peter's hand and turned to her bandmates. "Girls, I'm off! Happy Valentine's Day!"
With that, she pulled Peter away joyfully, not caring what the others thought.
Watching this unfold, Mary Jane's emotions grew complex. Discomfort, jealousy, and indignation all swirled within her.
Once upon a time, Peter had revolved around her. Now, he didn't even acknowledge her presence. The stark contrast stung.
Harry, sensing her mood, tried to smooth things over. "Mary, it's Valentine's Day. I made a reservation—let's go celebrate properly."
Mary Jane massaged her temple, her face filled with frustration. "Harry, I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. I want to go home and rest."
Harry's face darkened. This was the first time she'd refused him—and on Valentine's Day, no less. She used to cling to him, terrified he'd find someone else.
Now she was brushing him off. And Peter Parker was obviously the reason.
"How strange that you were just fine during your performance," Harry remarked coldly. "But the moment you saw Peter, you suddenly fell ill?"
"What are you implying?" Mary Jane snapped. "Do I need to schedule my discomfort?"
"I didn't say that. Whether you're really sick or not—you know best. I won't argue. But the restaurant is already paid for. If you're not coming, I'll go alone. And since your place is in the opposite direction, you'll have to take a taxi."
Harry was no Peter. As a spoiled rich heir, he had never lacked attention from women. If one left, he'd simply find another.
To him, relationships were like clothes—easily swapped out.
He didn't believe in true love. After all, that's how he ended up with Mary Jane in the first place.
Turning away, Harry walked toward his luxury car.
Mary Jane, now in a panic, forced a smile uglier than a frown and rushed after him.
"Harry, wait! Please let me explain... I didn't mean it..."
She tried desperately to placate him. She knew all too well—without Harry, her dreams of stardom would vanish like smoke.