Returning from the Umbrella Corporation laboratory, where life and death were controlled, to the sunny Midtown High School—this seamless switching of identities had already become second nature to Alice.
Just over a dozen hours ago, she had been standing in the laboratory, listening to Fox report the latest warning list woven by the loom of fate, and looking at the security system upgrade plan for Umbrella Corporation proposed by Cross.
She had remotely finalized the clinical cooperation agreement for the repair cream between Umbrella Corporation and New York Presbyterian Hospital.
And now, on this slightly dull Monday morning, she was sitting in a classroom at Midtown High School, listening to the history teacher's monotonous lullaby from the podium.
The bald old teacher held a piece of chalk, slowly writing the history of World War II on the blackboard.
His voice was so flat and devoid of any inflection that it sounded like a skipping old-fashioned phonograph, reciting the textbook's key points over and over again. In the back row, two boys were already slumped over their desks, their heads bobbing as they dozed off.
In the front row, Peter Parker was looking down, his back straight, his pen tip gliding rapidly across his notebook, diligently recording every point the teacher made.
His handwriting was neat and elegant, and beside it, he had drawn a few sketches of mechanical principles, clearly showing that half his mind had already drifted to the laboratory at the Osborn Group.
Sitting in the aisle seat next to Alice, Gwen Stacy was idly twirling a silver fountain pen. Her azure eyes looked toward the blackboard from time to time, and occasionally she would lower her head to jot down a few keywords in her notebook.
Her hair was tied into a neat high ponytail, revealing a slender, fair neck. Even just sitting there quietly, she possessed a dazzling radiance.
As the top student in her grade at Midtown High School and the "genius girl" in the principal's words, she already knew these dry history points by heart, yet she still maintained the most attentive posture in class.
Harry Osborn, sitting diagonally in front of Alice, was resting his chin in his hand, bored, twirling a limited-edition Zippo lighter with his fingertips, his eyes vacant, clearly lost in thought.
He wore a well-tailored custom suit, his hair meticulously styled, making him look out of place among the students in uniforms.
His gaze drifted to Peter from time to time, and occasionally fell outside the window, hiding exhaustion and anxiety in the depths of his eyes.
Alice knew exactly where this anxiety came from.
Norman Osborn's Green Goblin transformation was becoming increasingly severe; even with the stabilizer she provided, it could only be temporarily suppressed, not completely eradicated.
This heir to the Osborn Group, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, was being crushed by the weight of his family's hereditary disease, his father's paranoia, and the massive business empire.
Alice gently turned her pen, letting the tip leave a small Umbrella Corporation logo on her notebook before quickly crossing it out.
Class time passed in dullness.
Just as this slightly long history class was about to end, the heavy wooden door of the classroom was suddenly pushed open.
The person who entered was the vice principal of Midtown High School, Mr. Morita.
Vice Principal Morita, who was usually all smiles and loved to joke with students in the hallway, now had a face as heavy as lead, his brows tightly furrowed, his mouth pressed into a tense, straight line.
Beside him followed the school's guidance counselor.
Vice Principal Morita waited until the history teacher on the podium announced the end of the class before walking up.
"Children, I am sorry to take up your break time, but I must inform you all of some extremely unfortunate news."
Vice Principal Morita's expression was grave. He took a deep breath, as if it took all his strength to say what came next.
"Your classmate, Jessica Campbell, was involved in an extremely serious car accident this past weekend."
The classroom went silent for a moment, as if a pause button had been pressed.
A few seconds later, low whispers spread like a tide, and the students looked at each other, their faces full of confusion.
"Jessica, Jessica Campbell, who is that?"
"I think it's that girl who sits in the corner of the last row, the one who never talks?"
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