Chapter 13: After the Banquet

Harry and Tim exchanged a silent glance, their eyes locked in a tense standoff. Peter sensed the hostility and felt at a loss.

Trying to ease the awkwardness between his regained friend and his new family members, he cautiously offered, "Uh... does anyone want a sandwich? My treat?"

Harry opened his mouth, about to say "Sure," but Tim beat him to it, saying, "Today's a family gathering, Peter. Everyone will be here."

"Oh... sorry, Harry, then I have to go," Peter said apologetically. "Could you send me a copy of your major and schedule? Maybe we have some electives we can take together!"

Harry's warm brown eyes shone with a thousandfold sincerity; he was nearly dazzled by the genuine enthusiasm. Used to feigning interest among peers from his own social class in Gotham, he had never seen such pure innocence, free of any ulterior motives.

"Of course," Harry said, unable to refuse.

They added each other on Facebook, and Harry sent a screenshot of his schedule. As a sophomore, Harry had more courses, but his major was not genetics as Peter had expected, but business.

It made sense, after all, Harry had a whole conglomerate to inherit.

Tim glanced at the schedule, which overlapped greatly with courses he had taken before, and momentarily felt a pang of shared hardship.

No, Timothy, you must not empathize with a potential criminal.

Tim reminded himself firmly, then cleared his throat. "Let's go; it's getting late."

Peter reluctantly said goodbye to Harry, already planning to change one of his electives tomorrow to match Harry’s classes.

The third son of the Wayne family drove a Maybach, fitting for someone who frequented the Wayne Enterprises board meetings. Peter accepted his invitation and sat in the passenger seat, vaguely feeling like he had forgotten something.

What could it be...

He absentmindedly pondered for a moment before shifting his attention to the upcoming dinner, strategizing how to leave a good impression on the family, pushing the fleeting thought aside.

Meanwhile, in the parking lot, the Bumblebee car was nowhere to be found, despite waiting left and right: ...?

Sensing the new family member’s unease in the passenger seat, Tim reassured him, "Everyone’s very easygoing, don’t be nervous."

"I... I'm not nervous," Peter replied, his teeth slightly chattering.

Tim was puzzled; he had seen shy and nervous people before, but never someone as visibly tense as Peter.

So Tim began sharing funny stories about the family to help him relax.

Of course, he didn’t share any about himself—Tim was the proud young master of the Wayne family.

After soaking up a bit of gossip, Peter relaxed considerably and asked curiously, "Were all of you adopted by Mr. Wayne? He’s really kind."

"Dick, Jason, and I were taken in by Bruce after losing our parents," Tim said with a smile. "Damian is his biological son, but they don’t look alike at all."

Comparing the arrogant little boy in his memories to the charming Bruce, Peter wholeheartedly agreed with Tim.

"Cassandra is an adopted daughter, and the other girls are actually just friends," Tim said vaguely. "But now, we’re all family."

Peter nodded thoughtfully, understanding.

So in fact, the Wayne family consisted of adopted sons and biological sons, plus everyone’s girlfriends...?

Should he call them sisters-in-law?

Peter pondered seriously.

Peter sat at the long Wayne family dining table, seeing so many black-haired, blue-eyed people gathered for the first time.

Four of them—four!

Black hair and blue eyes really were a combination that easily produced beauty. Peter touched his own hair; he was brown-haired with brown eyes—ordinary and unremarkable, but approachable.

A large group of young people noisily took their seats, filling the outrageously long Wayne family dining table.

Tim was far more relaxed at home than at school, exuding a weary resignation from being overwhelmed by work and studies.

Opposite him sat Damian, interestingly, the only biological child whose eyes were green.

Damian and Tim were putting on a show of brotherly affection, with Damian thoughtfully cutting sprigs of rosemary on Tim’s plate into small pieces and signaling him to eat quickly, while Tim glared fiercely as if wanting to tie him up and hang him from the manor’s ceiling chandelier.

Jason poured wine into his own glass and filled Peter’s with juice, deliberately explaining, "You’re only nineteen."

"I’ll be twenty in a few days! And you can drink at eighteen," Peter argued.

"This is a public setting," Jason said slyly, smiling.

Peter was momentarily frustrated, forgetting all his nervousness.

Dick, rumored to have "rabies," arrived late, rushing to his seat and immediately telling Peter, "I do not have rabies!"

Jason, the instigator, glanced away, pretending to be deeply interested in the foyer.

Bruce Wayne, Gotham’s prince, gave a very old-fashioned yet casual welcome speech that didn’t feel careless. With his honeyed voice, Peter’s ears turned red.

Peter had met the Wayne boys before, but today there were four girls present as well. Peter had never sat at a long table with so many girls before, and whenever their eyes met his, he didn’t know where to put his hands.

Barbara was the most curious about Peter, practically itching to know why an outsider chose to attend college in Gotham.

As the daughter of the police commissioner and Batgirl, Barbara knew better than anyone how unwelcome Gotham was.

Not to mention Peter was from New York, making him almost as much of a curiosity as Superman’s child coming to Gotham to study under Bruce.

So during a break in Bruce’s speech, Barbara seriously asked Peter, "You must be full of secrets, right?"

Peter stiffened, his first thought being that his simultaneous appearance with the shadowy Spider in Gotham was suspicious.

Before he could answer, Jason, casually eating bread, said, "Peter is an open book. What secrets could he possibly have?"

Peter gave Jason a grateful look, but the blonde girl Stephanie was dissatisfied. "You’ve only known him two days longer, Jason. Don’t act like you know him best."

They began bickering back and forth, while Barbara tried in vain to mediate. Bruce, accustomed to the chaos of these children, looked on with some helplessness—without masks, his Batman's authority didn’t hold the same weight. Alfred, meanwhile, enjoyed the youthful commotion, arms crossed, observing quietly.

Feeling responsible for the quarrel and unsure what to do, Peter felt his elbow nudged. A slender hand appeared from behind Barbara, palm open with a piece of candy.

Peter looked at the hand’s owner: a quiet black-haired Asian girl he only knew as Cassandra, sponsored by Mr. Wayne and therefore close to the family.

Somehow, Peter felt warmly about her, despite her rarely speaking or smiling.

If Peter understood Cassandra Cain—the Black Bat’s combat logic, which involved observing an opponent’s body language to predict their next move, akin to spider-sense—he would know why he felt so drawn to her.

Dinner was winding down, and Peter’s taut nerves gradually relaxed. The Wayne family left a very good impression—none of the stereotypes about the rich clung to them.

After learning about the family members, Peter realized that Bruce, the famously playboy Gothamite, was actually soft-hearted inside, adopting orphans and sheltering vulnerable young women.

As for the rumors Peter had heard before about Bruce’s "strange preference for black-haired, blue-eyed boys" or "wild parties corrupting the kids at the manor"—pure nonsense!

Peter’s trust and admiration for Bruce peaked after dinner, before nine o’clock, when the elders called all the young ones to bed.

He even protected the children’s sleep schedules!

Alfred seemed to misinterpret Peter’s admiring expression and gently explained for Bruce, "The Wayne household keeps good hours and loves to sleep. In fact, our favorite animal is the sloth."

Damian snorted loudly through his nose but was quickly led away by Tim with a smile.

Peter said, "Getting plenty of sleep is great! I’m going to bed too! Good night, Mr. Wayne! Good night, Mr. Pennyworth!"

"Wait, Mr. Parker," Alfred called after him. "Master Parker, you rode home tonight in Master Tim’s car, didn’t you?"

Peter nodded, puzzled.

Alfred then showed Peter a video: the garage security camera captured an old black-and-yellow car quietly parked at the garage door without headlights on. The garage door opened, and the Camaro found a spot by itself and stopped.

Alfred said, "Master Parker, I assume this is your car, and at the time you were at the dining table..."

Peter broke out in a cold sweat, instantly thinking of an excuse. "I installed an automatic navigation patrol system for it! Yes, that's it."

Alfred studied him sharply. "You may want to check if anything’s missing."

"Just what I was thinking. Thank you, Alfred!" Peter said, slipping away quickly toward the garage.