Who said a diary had to be spoiler-free?
Lucas Chen certainly didn't think so. As far as he was concerned, this was a private monologue. A safe space to vent. He could write whatever he wanted, secure in the knowledge that no one else would ever see it.
The interface was seamless. He didn't even need a pen. He just thought, and the words appeared on the page. It was the ultimate hands-free experience.
Having finished his tutoring session, Lucas left the Stacy residence feeling pretty good about himself. He had basked in the admiring gaze of a future superheroine, earned some cash, and managed not to say anything stupid. His policy was simple: avoid the Main Characters until you have powers. Don't be a hero. Don't be a casualty.
He walked down the street, humming a tune, completely unaware that he had left a copy of his diary behind.
Or rather, the System had delivered a copy.
Gwen's Bedroom.
Gwen Stacy closed the door after seeing her handsome tutor out. She turned back to her desk and froze.
There, sitting innocently next to her calculus textbook, was a black notebook.
"Did Lucas leave this behind?"
She picked it up. The cover was embossed with his name: The Diary of Lucas Chen.
Her conscience pricked her. Reading someone's diary was wrong. It was an invasion of privacy. It was rude.
But curiosity is a powerful force, especially for a sixteen-year-old girl who had just spent an hour staring into the dreamy eyes of a Harvard grad.
"Just one peek," she whispered. "Just to see if there's a return address or something."
She flipped it open.
BOMBSHELL.
The first page hit her like a physical slap.
June 6
Waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped. Day 1.
June 7
Waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped. Day 2.
June 7 (Evening)
Still waiting. Come on, Stark. Get in the Humvee. Get blown up. My stock portfolio needs this dip! I need to buy low before he invents the Arc Reactor and pivots to clean energy!
Gwen blinked. She read it again.
"He's... waiting for Tony Stark to be kidnapped?"
It was so specific. So confident. If this was a joke, it was a dark one. Lucas wasn't just predicting a crime; he was banking on it. He sounded like a time traveler checking his watch, annoyed that history was running late.
She turned the page, her heart rate picking up.
June 10
Man, Gwen is gorgeous. No wonder she was the childhood crush of an entire generation. Maybe, since I'm here, I can stop the tragedy.
Gwen's face flushed a deep, beet red.
"He thinks I'm gorgeous?" she squeaked, covering her mouth.
The image of Lucas—his sharp jawline, his easy intelligence—flashed in her mind. He wasn't like the boys at Midtown High who pulled pranks and smelled like Axe body spray. He was mature. He was mysterious. And apparently, he thought she was a "childhood crush of a generation."
Wait. Childhood crush? Was he older than he looked?
She read on.
But the timeline is weird. Gwen is supposed to be with Peter Parker. She's the 'Official Pair' for the Amazing Spider-Man. But in this universe, Peter is a kid. So who is Gwen for?
Is she destined to die in the clock tower? Or become Spider-Woman?
The blush vanished, replaced by a cold chill.
"Spider-Man? Peter Parker?"
She knew a Peter Parker. He was her neighbor's nephew. A shy, nerdy little kid who loved science. Lucas thought he was going to be a superhero?
"Parallel universes... Multiverse... Fourth Wall..."
Gwen's eyes darted across the page, absorbing concepts that belonged in a theoretical physics paper, not a diary. Lucas was writing about reality as if it were a script. He claimed there were other universes where she was a superhero. Others where she died.
"Dead in Peter's arms? Broken neck?"
Gwen shuddered. The description was visceral. It made her stomach churn.
"And 'Spider-Woman'?"
The image that popped into her head was a Cronenberg-esque nightmare—a human head on a giant spider body.
"Ew! No!" she whispered violently. "I am not becoming a spider-monster!"
She sat down on her bed, the notebook heavy in her lap.
"I'm a character?" she whispered. "My life is a story written by some guy in another dimension?"
It was insane. It had to be a prank. Lucas must have left this here on purpose to mess with her. He was a creative writing minor, right? This was just some elaborate sci-fi story he was working on.
"It has to be," Gwen reasoned. "I have memories. I have feelings. I remember scraping my knee when I was five. I remember my first crush. I'm real."
But the doubt lingered. Lucas's tone was so... factual. He wasn't writing fiction. He was writing observations.
Suddenly, ink began to appear on the page. Right before her eyes.
Gwen gasped and dropped the book. She scrambled back against her headboard, eyes wide.
"It's writing itself!"
She waited a moment. Nothing exploded. Slowly, cautiously, she crawled back and peered at the new text.
June 10 (Update)
Just left Gwen's place. Confirmed: She is indeed the 'Best Girlfriend in Marvel History.' Truly the dream wife of every Transmigrator.
But I wonder... how does she compare to Wanda? The Scarlet Witch? I bet Wanda is... bigger. In certain areas.
Gwen's face went from pale to nuclear red in a split second.
"Hey!" she hissed, looking down at her own chest.
She wasn't flat! She was athletic! She was sixteen!
"Who is this Wanda?" Gwen demanded to the empty room, her existential crisis momentarily forgotten in the face of teenage jealousy. "And why is Lucas comparing my... measurements... to hers?"
"I'm still growing!" she insisted, glaring at the book.
But then she re-read the first line.
'Best Girlfriend in Marvel History.'
'Dream Wife.'
A shy, secret smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Well," she huffed, smoothing her hair. "At least he has good taste."
"But seriously, Lucas," she narrowed her eyes at the page. "You look so polite and scholarly on the outside, but inside you're just a horny nerd? Hmph."
She picked up the diary again. The fear was still there, lurking in the background. But now, it was mixed with something else. Curiosity. And a strange, protective feeling over this magical book that held the secrets of her future.
"Unlucky Girl?" she muttered, narrowing her eyes at the page. "We'll see about that, Lucas Chen. I make my own luck."