Little Meow had said the Wayne family was rich, but Gwen never expected them to be this rich.
Holy crap, the three of them lived in a thousands-of-square-meters retro villa mansion in the scenic suburbs!
Don't you guys feel creeped out at night?
Of course that wasn't important. What mattered was that there was hot water for a bath. Their bathroom was twenty square meters big—you could literally swim in it!
Gwen had just fought a tough battle in her own universe. She was cold, hungry, sleepy, and exhausted. But this luxurious oversized bathtub was enough to heal every emotional wound she had.
"Miss Gwen, I've left pajamas outside for you. Would you like me to wash your clothes?"
"Thanks, but no need!"
Living in a thousands-of-square-meter mansion and not even hiring a single maid—the family's personality was pretty weird. Although the old butler looked quite old, it was still better not to let someone else handle a girl's underwear.
Don't think the suit only has panties underneath! There are still plain cotton panties and a tank top. After all, sometimes you need to consider quick costume changes. She just doesn't wear a bra.
Fun cold fact: whether it's female superheroes or supervillains, there are no bras under tight suits. Everyone uses pasties. That way there's no embarrassing strap-snapping during fights.
After showering, drying her hair, putting on the pajamas and keeping her mask on, Gwen almost got lost in the hallway. She finally found the living room and saw that the old butler had already prepared dinner.
Smoked turkey leg meat on toasted bread, with sliced pineapple and orange marmalade.
The young master hadn't touched a bite. He sat curled up on the sofa hugging his knees, lost in thought. Understandable. No one could eat after something like that.
Gwen sat down, lifted half her mask, and started stuffing bread into her mouth.
"Why don't you take off your mask?"
Even the death of his parents couldn't stop a curious kid's questions.
The old butler next to him was fanning the flames too: "Miss Gwen, I believe wearing a mask while eating is rather impolite."
Gwen swallowed her food, took a sip of black tea, and said unhurriedly, "Mr. Alfred, instead of worrying about politeness, you should be thinking about getting this child to bed early. You two have a lot to deal with tomorrow—pick up the bodies from the police station in the morning, publish the obituary, contact the priest, choose the cemetery, and then there's the inheritance. You'll need to call the lawyers…"
The shocked expressions on the young master's and the old butler's faces made it clear they hadn't prepared for any of this.
Of course. Who casually has experience with this stuff?
The young master was coaxed off to bed.
Once Gwen had licked the last bit of pineapple syrup off her fingers, the old butler returned and sat down in front of her. His words were extremely sincere: "Miss Gwen, I don't know how to express my gratitude. If you hadn't been there… my God, I don't even want to imagine it."
"No need to thank me. Even if I hadn't been there, he would have been fine."
Because American law forbids showing the death of children on screen in movies and TV shows.
The old butler looked stunned, clearly unable to follow Gwen's train of thought.
"What I mean is, this wasn't an ordinary robbery. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were murdered."
Gwen shrugged. "I assume you don't want Bruce to hear that, right?"
The old butler's spirit sharpened. He lowered his voice and asked seriously, "Miss Gwen, why would you think that? Everyone knows how much the master and his wife have done for Gotham over the years. Who would want to deliberately murder them?"
Gwen looked surprised. "Is it because I didn't study enough, or is it that in your world 'good person' stats give you defense against bullets?"
The old butler smiled bitterly. "Alright, sorry, I'm not doubting you. But Miss Gwen, this is too shocking. Do you have any evidence for what you're saying?"
"You don't get it?"
"Get what?"
"Think about it carefully, old man!"
Gwen sighed helplessly. "I caught the robber and stayed with Bruce until the police arrived. Then the robber died, and the police said I killed him and want to arrest me! Mr. Alfred, someone is killing witnesses and framing me at the same time! If he was just an ordinary robber, why go through all this trouble?"
Looking at the old butler's uncertain and shocked expression, Gwen felt mentally exhausted.
They couldn't even see through such a simple setup. Were Americans back then really this pure and wholesome?
An innocent old man like you—if you went to guest-star in Game of Thrones, you wouldn't survive three episodes!
"I guess you don't want your young master to know about this and then go out seeking revenge for his parents, right?"
"Of course. Master Bruce is still too young. If… I mean, if…"
"Then let's just pretend none of this happened tonight. Forget we ever had this conversation."
The old butler nodded vigorously like a drowning man clutching a life-saving straw.
This old man had strong mental resilience, but he lacked real decisiveness. He looked like an old soldier, yet he still wasn't quite a qualified butler.
Whatever…
At least now he owed Gwen a favor. Free meals secured. Staying here for a couple more days shouldn't be a problem. It was just a bit far from the city…
Should she consider buying a bicycle?
......
Because she was exhausted and had never slept in such a soft bed before, Gwen slept until ten o'clock the next morning. If the old butler hadn't knocked, she might have stayed in bed even longer.
The feeling of having no supervillains and no school to attend was wonderful.
She temporarily took back her earlier comment that the old butler was unqualified.
His cooking skills were actually pretty good. He had prepared a lavish breakfast… well, brunch. He had even dug out one of Mrs. Wayne's old school uniforms from when she was a girl: black leather shoes, knee-high socks, short skirt, blazer, V-neck sweater, white shirt with a little tie. It looked almost identical to the uniform at the school Miles attended.
Thinking about that bastard Miles reminded her of her hair.
That was the real reason Gwen refused to take off her mask. It hurt too much to even think about!
She checked herself in the mirror. Maybe because of the crossing and return, her hair seemed to have grown just a tiny bit. It was still far from her original length, but at least there was hope.
"Gwen? I heard you're up. Can you come with me to…"
The young master knocked and entered. His eyes went straight the moment he saw her. He stood at the doorway like an idiot, unable to speak.
The big sister was too pretty. He needed to pass a charm resistance check.
Gwen smiled softly and waved. She calmly accepted the burning gaze of the pure-hearted little boy.
Humble little me, Gwen Stacy, is precisely the rising doujin queen of the post-2010 Marvel generation!
Coming from a de-industrialized, freedom-loving country with clean democratic air that smells sweet, eating organic, pollution-free vegetables and fruits, using who-knows-how-many generations of advanced skincare and cosmetics. If nothing else, just the quality of her skin was enough to crush the upper-class noble ladies of this era.
What a sin. This kid is going to have a hard time finding a wife in the future.