20 You have been invited

Tim was faced with two options.

First, Peter was secretly hiding a dark side, a potential criminal who had come to Gotham to use its environment and cover to fulfill his evil purposes.

Second, Peter had been led astray by his classmates at Gotham University.

Looking into Peter’s sincere, doe-like brown eyes, Tim simply couldn’t convince himself of the first option.

That left only one suspect: Harry Osborn.

“Admit it, you just don’t like Osborn,” Barbara said, pressing Tim again to breach Osborn’s firewall.

“He’s highly suspected of corrupting members of our family,” Tim said seriously.

“Have you considered that he might not even know what that place is for?” Barbara shrugged. “Maybe you could start by warning him which areas are best to avoid.”

Tim remained unmoved. “I’ll tell him, but Barbara, please don’t force me to sneak into Osborn Industries to steal their servers, alright?”

Barbara could only laugh in disbelief.

The Osborn Group’s firewall was sturdier than Tim expected. Despite he and Barbara being top hackers, they still couldn’t find a loophole. The only way might be a physical breach into the Osborn Group’s server room.

Acting on mere suspicion like that wasn’t something even Bruce would agree to, so Tim refrained from rash action. Instead, he planned to probe young Osborn during Norman Osborn’s funeral.

At this moment, Harry had just finished dealing with a round of other board members, all eyeing his shares greedily, their barely concealed greed all the more repulsive. He sat wearily at his desk, idly fiddling with a small metal cube.

It was his father’s relic. Yesterday, Harry discovered it was a master key granting access to any hidden corner of Osborn Group’s servers. This revelation led him to uncover the many sinister experiments Osborn Group had secretly conducted—from New York to Gotham, never ceasing.

His father hadn’t been able to save himself with these secrets, so where did that leave Harry’s own path?

The computer screen displayed an experiment studying spiders’ regenerative abilities. It seemed his father once placed great hopes on it, but for some unknown reason, the project was abruptly terminated and all the spiders destroyed.

Harry pondered this when his phone suddenly pinged with a notification: Spider-Man and Red Robin.

Spider. Vigilante.

Harry thought it over and added both names to the invitation list for Norman’s funeral.

Peter was used to his family’s unpredictable comings and goings—Bruce suddenly needed to travel to Metropolis for business and took his youngest son along instead of involving Tim more deeply in company affairs. Though Peter found it odd, he couldn’t understand the world of the wealthy.

Since Bruce’s return date was uncertain, Peter’s modest gift budget was first given to Tim.

Though living under the same roof, they hadn’t seen each other for two days. Peter met Tim again at Norman Osborn’s funeral.

Having witnessed Harry and Tim’s cool indifference, Peter had thought Tim wouldn’t be invited.

Clearly, giving a gift at a funeral was inappropriate, yet as the ceremony ended and Harry was overwhelmed by condolences, Tim pulled Peter aside and handed him something.

Peter looked down and saw a book: “The Art of Self-Cultivation and Building Healthy Intimate Relationships.”

Peter hesitated, “Uh… thanks?”

Since that was the case, Peter offered the small gift he always carried—a pair of reusable steam eye masks.

Tim touched his eyes. “Are my dark circles really that bad?”

“Uh… I can’t say they aren’t… but it doesn’t detract from your charm!” Peter said earnestly. “Like a little panda.”

Barbara, overhearing everything, laughed loudly into Tim’s earpiece, making Tim twitch his mouth.

After exchanging gifts, Peter kept his attention on Harry, ensuring he was doing alright—in fact, Harry seemed almost too composed. Juggling various people’s demands, his face was stern, showing none of the grief expected of a young man who had just lost his father, instead resembling a business elite unaffected by anything.

Perhaps his enemies were just too blatant, Peter thought, feeling even more sympathy.

Peter had also prepared notes from the classes Harry had missed these past few days. Business concepts were beyond him, but at least he could transcribe everything verbatim.

Finally, when Harry’s tormentors dispersed and he scanned the room, Peter waved to him immediately.

Harry’s icy expression softened slightly, and he hurried toward Peter. Despite a decade apart and only half a week since their reunion as childhood friends, Peter’s sincerity outshone the company shareholders who had watched Harry grow up.

Peter handed Harry the neatly written notes. Harry’s expression grew deeply complex.

“Little Pete,” his voice thick with emotion, as if on the verge of tears, “I used to think maybe the Osborn legacy was cursed by the devil, and it might be better if it ended with my generation.”

Harry showed his trembling hand to Peter, whose expression changed instantly. He grasped that hand urgently.

“You can’t give up, Harry! You still have time. Whatever you need, I’ll help you!”

“—Now I’ve changed my mind.” Harry placed his other hand over Peter’s. “Little Pete, I do need your help.”

“Tell me,” Peter said earnestly. “I’m willing to do anything for you.”

Harry’s gaze shifted from Peter’s face to Tim standing beside him, clearly signaling a desire to speak privately with Peter.

But Tim pretended not to read the room, smiling faintly at Harry.

Peter then realized Tim hadn’t left.

Shouldn’t the company president be very busy? Why was he still here?

Harry and Tim stared each other down for a moment, while Peter looked back and forth, bewildered.

Harry finally spoke, “Mr. Drake, could you give us some privacy?”

“I want to hear what help you need too—maybe I can assist,” Tim responded with a polite smile.

Peter was puzzled. “Tim’s really nice. Harry, I think you can just say it.”

Harry bit his lip, shot Tim a subtle glare, and pulled out his phone, showing Peter a photo released by the media.

He asked, “Peter, do you know Spider-Man or Red Robin? Can you get in touch with them for me?”

Spider-Man and Red Robin: “…”

“I-I actually don’t know Spider-Man! That day I just… happened to be passing by and took a quick shot…” Peter stammered, sneaking a glance at Tim, afraid he might notice something amiss.

“Don’t lie to me,” Harry gently cut him off. “The distance, the angle, the timing of the shot… Please, Little Pete, Spider-Man is my only hope.”

When the handsome new head of the Osborn dynasty looks at someone like that, no one can refuse his plea—not even Peter.

“Alright,” Peter said reluctantly. “I’ll try to contact him.”

This was practically admitting to Tim that he had lied. After all, yesterday he was adamant that he was just a passerby who happened to snap a photo, and today he confessed to actually knowing Spider-Man.

Would Tim’s impression of him plummet?

—But what Tim was thinking was: Great! Peter hasn’t gone bad!

Compared to that, a harmless little lie was nothing. After all, not everyone would admit to knowing a masked vigilante—that usually only brings trouble. The fact that Peter lied about knowing Spider-Man actually reassured Tim.

Just as Tim smiled with relief, Harry turned to him with a perfectly practiced social smile.

“So, Master Drake—” Harry deliberately drew out the last syllable, “are you willing to help me too?”

“I don’t know Red Robin,” Tim replied immediately. “And I don’t know Spider-Man either.”

Under Harry’s “I knew it” gaze, Tim noticed the book Peter had received from him, “The Art of Self-Cultivation and Building Healthy Intimate Relationships.” Now understanding Peter’s club visit was just a misunderstanding, Tim casually took the book back.

“This book isn’t good. I’ll give you something else.”

Peter was caught off guard as Tim took the book, nearly on the verge of tears.

Was this because Tim sensed his lie and wanted to take back the gift as well?