"While your comments are surprising, I don't consider myself someone who enjoys death."

Peter shook his head as he moved behind Mrs. Weber, continuing to push her wheelchair forward.

Mrs. Weber took a few deep breaths, visibly trying to calm herself. "I know what you saw, Mr. Parker."

"What do you think I saw?" Peter asked.

"You saw yourself destroying the city, with no one able to stop you. You plunged the entire world into death, consumed by a boundless, black ocean."

Peter kept pushing her wheelchair forward and replied calmly, "So what? That doesn't mean it will actually happen."

"That vision is part of the future," Mrs. Weber said gravely.

Peter lowered his eyes and glanced at her before falling silent for a moment. Then he said, "I'm not a comic book villain. Why would I want to destroy the world?"

After a pause, Peter added, "Besides, human cruelty will eventually lead to our destruction. I doubt that has anything to do with me."

While Peter acknowledged that he wasn't necessarily a good person, he had no ambitions to become a great superhero. But he certainly wasn't the type to destroy the world either.

There were too many extraordinary beings in this universe—superheroes, magicians, and others with powers far beyond his. Why would he want to be their enemy? He wasn't delusional enough to think he had the strength to take them all on.

Maybe the apocalyptic vision he had witnessed was of a Peter Parker from a parallel universe. Or perhaps it was just a figment born from his own subconscious.

Whatever it was, it didn't seem important.

Mrs. Weber studied Peter intently. "Nothing remains the same. Our thoughts today may not carry into the future. We may become entirely different people."

"I'll keep your advice in mind, Mrs. Weber," Peter replied, clearly wanting to move on from the topic. "If this is your guidance for my life, I'll consider it."

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But Mrs. Weber shook her head. "It's more than that. I saw death surrounding you. And this isn't just a metaphor. The shadow of death may approach someone close to you—someone you love."

Peter slowed down at her words. "Someone close to me?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weber said quietly. "The one you love or the one who loves you is nearing the shadow of death. If you can foresee it, you might change the course of fate. But in my experience, fate has always been cruel."

Peter frowned as he considered her prophecy. Was she talking about Uncle Ben? But Uncle Ben wouldn't die until he became Spider-Man. And Aunt May, according to what Peter knew from his past life, would live safely by his side.

Aside from Uncle Ben and Aunt May, who else could she be referring to?

"We've arrived," Mrs. Weber said, interrupting his thoughts.

Peter looked up to find that they had reached Ward 965. Inside, Christine was pacing anxiously. She visibly relaxed when she saw Peter pushing Mrs. Weber into the room, though her surprise was evident.

Isn't this Dr. Lane, that mysterious patient?

"Ms. Weber, you really shouldn't have left your room," Christine said sternly, turning her attention to the older woman.

"I just needed some fresh air. The ward was feeling stuffy," Mrs. Weber replied with a smile. She glanced up at Peter and added, "Thankfully, this young man helped me back. We had quite the conversation, and I gained a lot of insight."

Christine turned to Peter and thanked him. "Thank you. I'm Dr. Christine Palmer, Ms. Weber's attending physician. I appreciate you bringing her back."

"Peter Parker. It was no trouble," Peter replied, offering a handshake.

"Would you mind stepping outside for a moment to talk?" Christine asked, her curiosity piqued by Peter's presence.

After glancing at the attractive doctor, Peter, who didn't quite understand what she was thinking, simply nodded.

"Sure," he said.

In the hallway, Christine thanked Peter once again. "Ms. Weber suffers from myasthenia gravis and is scheduled for surgery soon. We've asked her to stay in the ward to rest."

Peter nodded and then asked, "What does Ms. Weber do? Is she a fortune teller?"

Christine smiled. "Ms. Weber is retired, but she might have had a similar profession in the past. She's very perceptive and seems unusually attuned to our emotions. I wouldn't be surprised if she was both a psychologist and a fortune teller."

Their conversation was interrupted by a nurse rushing over with urgent news. "Dr. Christine, Ms. Weber has a nosebleed!"

Christine gave Peter an apologetic look before hurrying back into the ward. She quickly examined Mrs. Weber and, after confirming it was nothing serious, put down her stethoscope with a sigh of relief.

As she glanced up, she noticed that Peter had already left the corridor.

Strangely, even though Peter was clearly young, Christine hadn't treated him like a teenager. Instead, she felt as if she had been talking to someone of the same age—or perhaps even more mature.

There was something odd about him. He didn't give off the frail air of a sick person, but instead had a presence that was both unsettling and intriguing.

Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought and returned her focus to her work.

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