Jessica flinched at the look in Ethan's eyes, taking two cautious steps back. She stared at him warily, like a wounded beast ready to bolt.
Ethan turned away and quickened his pace toward his house. After locking the door, he slumped onto the couch, waiting for the mall delivery to arrive.
This'll be home from now on, he thought, already daydreaming about a laid-back life full of snacks and gossip—when suddenly, the front door blasted off its hinges and flew two meters across the room, slamming into the floor.
"What the hell—?! Are you insane? Why'd you smash my damn door?!"
"You're a superpowered being too, right?" Jessica blurted, staring straight at him. Her voice trembled slightly as she added, "Thank you… for saving me from that nightmare."
"So this is how you say thank you?" Ethan pointed at the wrecked door, his tone turning sharp. "Fine—eight hundred bucks. Pay up, and get the hell out of my sight."
"I… don't have any money," Jessica admitted, lowering her head. "Could you let me stay here for a while? I can work for you, and use what I earn to pay rent."
Ethan rubbed his chin, eyeing her figure. With her kind of super strength, she could probably pay the rent just by hauling bricks. Thinking of his dwindling bank balance, he cleared his throat and nodded.
"Fine. Two thousand a month."
Jessica agreed without hesitation. She'd already scoped out the house earlier—a nice standalone villa, a bit pricey compared to the usual rate, sure, but she wasn't the type to haggle. Not that she planned to pay anyway. No money, no problem, she thought. If it comes down to it… well, lying on a bed isn't the worst kind of debt.
"Alright then," Ethan said, pointing toward a toolbox in the corner. "Tools are over there. Go fix my door. Now."
He started toward the stairs, adding over his shoulder, "You can pick any room on the second floor."
"Yes, sir!" Jessica nodded smartly, grabbed the toolbox, and set to work by the doorframe.
Ethan watched her for a moment and mentally patted himself on the back. Hard-working, good-looking, and useful—perfect. Won't even have to carry gas tanks myself anymore.
Back in the third-floor bedroom, Ethan dropped onto the wooden bed with such force that the frame creaked in protest under his weight.
An hour later, a clatter outside jolted him awake. He peeked out the window to see a large delivery truck and grinned, hurrying downstairs.
Then he froze.
"Wait—where the hell's my door?!"
A massive hole gaped where the door used to be. Jessica came running over, beaming.
"Boss! The movers said the bed was too wide to fit through the doorway, so I took the door off!"
Ethan stared at her bright, proud expression and muttered through gritted teeth, "Wow… genius move. Ever heard of disassembling the bed first?!"
Jessica blinked, rubbed the back of her neck, and said sheepishly, "Oh… huh. I guess that could've worked too."
"Out. Get upstairs. I don't wanna see your face right now."
Ethan waved her off irritably and went to speak with the delivery crew leader.
"Hey," he asked, "you guys do house repairs by any chance?"
The man glanced at the gaping hole in the wall, spread his hands, and said helplessly, "Sorry, Mr. Ethan. We only deliver and assemble furniture. Repairs aren't part of the service."
Ethan nodded, then pulled a fat stack of Franklins from his system backpack and slipped it into the man's hand. His tone softened instantly.
"Please, buddy. For the love of God—help me out."
The man smiled. "Sir, you're clearly a man of faith. Don't worry—consider it handled."
Half an hour later, the truck rumbled away. A brand-new door now stood in place, and Ethan's freshly installed bed looked magnificent. He smiled, finally satisfied.
Climbing the stairs to the second floor, he stopped mid-step—Jessica walked out of the bathroom completely naked.
She glanced at him calmly, then strolled back to her room without a word.
Ethan stood there frozen until that graceful silhouette disappeared into the hallway. He wiped at an imaginary nosebleed and muttered, "Yeah… okay, that's a solid bonus."
"Sir, your heart rate is elevated. Would you like me to perform a diagnostic scan?"
The gentle robotic voice of Baymax drifted down from upstairs. Ethan waved it off. "No, big guy, I'm fine." He gave the robot's pudgy belly a shove as he passed.
Hearing the noise, Jessica—now dressed—peeked over the stair railing and saw the white, inflatable robot. Her eyes lit up immediately.
"Boss, what is that?" she asked, poking Baymax's soft belly like a kid discovering a new toy.
"Hello," Baymax said warmly. "I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. Would you like a check-up?"
"Of course!" Jessica grinned, hugging the squishy robot.
"Go play somewhere else," Ethan groaned, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to bed."
Jessica's eyes sparkled mischievously as she dragged Baymax into her room.
Ethan lay back on his bed, opening the system interface. Two new options appeared: Shop and Contracts. Curious, he tapped on Shop, and a cascade of item cards appeared before his eyes—each tagged with a price. Three categories were listed across the top: Power, Scrolls, and Life. In the corner, his total points flickered beside the word Balance.
"One world… two thousand points, huh…" Ethan muttered, closing the shop and opening Contracts next. The description explained that he could use special scrolls to form pacts with beings from other worlds, bringing them across dimensions to help him destroy worlds.
He opened the shop again, checked the scroll section, and frowned—each Contract Scroll cost a thousand points. Shaking his head, he shut the menu and switched to the World tab instead. His heart pounded with excitement.
After a few moments of hesitation, he decided against traveling again. For now, his current strength was enough to survive in the Marvel world—as long as he didn't piss off the wrong people.
Then an engine roared in the front yard.
Ethan pulled back the curtain and froze. Sitting in a wheelchair below was a bald man he recognized instantly—Professor Charles Xavier—and behind him stood Jean Grey. His pulse spiked. The host of the Phoenix Force herself—now that was someone you didn't mess with.
Cyclops stepped forward and knocked on the door. Downstairs, Jessica, still playing with Baymax, groaned in annoyance and went to answer.
Opening the door, she frowned at the group of four.
"Who are you people? What do you want?"
"Don't be afraid, child," Charles said gently. "We're teachers from the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters. We'd like to invite you to join us—as a teacher."
Jessica blinked, then rolled her eyes. "Seriously? You scammers don't even bother to check your targets first? I dropped out of high school. What the hell am I supposed to teach—how to skip class?"
As she started to close the door, a calm voice echoed directly in her mind:
"Don't be afraid, child. We're the same kind of people."
Jessica looked at Charles in surprise. If she hadn't met Ethan, she might've accepted that invitation—if only for a sense of belonging.
But now, she smiled faintly and said, "Thanks, but I think I prefer the life I've got."
Professor Xavier nodded slightly and shifted his gaze past her, toward the man standing behind.