I’m in Marvel, but I play Yu-Gi-Oh!?

July 14th arrived.

Alexander awoke to warm sunlight filtering through the gaps in his bedroom curtains. For a few quiet moments, he simply lay still, listening to the distant sounds of the house gradually coming to life.

'I'm 16 years old...' He honestly wasn't sure where the time had gone.

Some days it felt as though he'd only recently awakened with the memories of another life, struggling to reconcile new memories of a completely unfamiliar world.

He dressed without much ceremony before making his way downstairs.

The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted him almost immediately.

Roland already stood beside the breakfast table, immaculate as always. Not a single strand of silver hair appeared out of place; his posture was every bit as dignified as it had been the day Alexander first met him many years ago.

The elderly gentleman offered a small, respectful smile and said, "Happy birthday, Master Alexander."

Alexander returned the smile, "Thank you, Roland."

Breakfast proceeded much like any other morning.

Fresh fruit. Toast. Eggs. Coffee.Comfortably ordinary.

Only as Alexander finished his cup did Roland speak again, "I hope you'll forgive an old man for making a personal observation."

Alexander looked up with mild curiosity and said, "You don't need permission. You know that both my father and I value your opinion."

Roland folded his hands neatly before him and said, "I believe your father is very proud of the young man you've become. I surely am."

For a brief moment, Alexander forgot how to respond because Roland rarely spoke so openly about personal matters, but then he simply smiled and said, "Thank you."

Roland inclined his head ever so slightly, "I merely wished you to know."

Nothing more needed saying. Some words were complete exactly as they were.

A few minutes later, Hugh entered the dining room carrying a small envelope before saying, "Happy birthday."

Alexander accepted it with a grateful smile and asked, "What's this...?"

"Open it."

Inside rested several neatly organised documents.

Vehicle registration. Insurance papers. Maintenance information. And a single key.

Alexander frowned in confusion before looking back toward his father, "I'm missing something..."

Hugh's expression remained carefully neutral, though Alexander thought he detected the faintest hint of amusement, "Come outside."

Curiosity quickly replaced confusion.

The morning air remained pleasantly cool as they stepped into the driveway, and waiting beneath the sunlight stood a silver BMW Z1.

For several seconds, Alexander simply stared.

The metallic paint reflected the early morning light, giving the roadster an understated elegance. It wasn't ostentatious, nor was it designed to attract attention through sheer excess.

It simply looked right.

His eyes lingered on the clean body lines before drifting toward the distinctive doors that retracted downward into the chassis.

He'd recognised the model almost immediately. Not because it was particularly famous but because he'd thought it was fascinating.

The Z in the name stood for Zukunft, future in English.

It was basically created by BMW to let the new Technik research skunkworks explore fresh ideas in engineering, as well as new development processes, and body construction for small-volume cars. A true pioneering little roadster.

"It...?"

"It's yours," Hugh answered.

Alexander looked back toward him and asked, "Really?"

His father nodded once but added, "Once you obtain your driver's license."

Alexander walked slowly around the car, almost instinctively running one hand along the smooth bodywork.

Most wealthy executives would've purchased their son an enormous luxury sedan; others might have chosen an exotic Italian supercar purely to display their wealth.

This wasn't either of those.

It was exactly the sort of sporty, stylish roadster a sixteen-year-old would dream about owning.

It wasn't the most expensive choice, but it was the most thoughtful one.

Then, Alexander looked at his father and said, "You chose this yourself."

Hugh looked mildly surprised by the observation before he calmly admitted, "Naturally."

Alexander smiled, a genuine one, and said, "Thank you. I love it."

For perhaps half a second, Alexander caught something remarkably close to pride in his father's expression as he said, "I thought you might."

There wasn't a dramatic embrace, as neither of them was a particularly expressive person, but somehow neither of them needed to be.

The remainder of the afternoon passed quietly.

Alexander answered several birthday phone calls from business associates and acquaintances.

A few executives sent tasteful gifts.

Several partners from Industrial Illusions forwarded handwritten congratulations.

Chuck called solely to remind Alexander that birthdays did not exempt anyone from losing Duel Monsters matches.

"I'll still beat you tomorrow."

"You've chosen an interesting day to make unrealistic predictions."

"They're optimistic predictions."

"They're statistically unrealistic."

"I reject your statistics."

Alexander laughed and said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

As evening approached, the atmosphere shifted.

Alexander exchanged comfortable casual clothes for a tailored black tuxedo.

This wasn't a birthday celebration, but it was a charity gala.

Tonight, he wasn't simply Alexander; he was Alexander Jones, owner and founder of Industrial Illusions, son of Hugh Jones, representative of one of America's most influential corporate families.

The venue reflected that reality as it was very similar to Dracula's Drake Manor, where every detail had been planned to perfection.

The guest list was equally impressive.

Corporate executives. Investment bankers. Federal judges. California politicians. United States senators. Elite attorneys. Studio executives. Military contractors. Old-money families. Hollywood celebrities. Professional athletes.

One guest, however, immediately drew Alexander's attention.

Anthony Edward Stark.

Only in his early twenties, and recently thrust into leadership of Stark Industries following the tragic deaths of Howard and Maria Stark.

Despite everything, Tony somehow managed to command every room he entered through sheer presence.

Conversations naturally shifted toward him. Laughter seemed to follow wherever he walked. Confidence radiated from him almost effortlessly, but perhaps a little too effortlessly.

A champagne flute never seemed far from his hand, nor did the actresses and aspiring models eagerly surround him.

He accepted their attention with the ease of someone long accustomed to it.

Standing discreetly nearby, Edwin Jarvis maintained his usual impeccable composure.

The elderly butler never appeared intrusive, yet Alexander noticed how effortlessly Jarvis ensured an empty champagne glass somehow remained empty a little longer than Tony intended.

Alexander found himself smiling slightly as it reminded him of Roland, 'As they say, a truly exceptional butler solves problems before anyone realises they exist...'

Alexander greeted each with practised courtesy.

Remembering names. Shaking hands. Thanking long-time donors for their continued generosity. Accepting birthday congratulations with modest appreciation. Smiling whenever photographers requested another picture.

More than once, Alexander caught snippets of conversations as he moved throughout the ballroom.

The topics changed constantly, but the underlying language rarely did.

Influence. Opportunity. Relationships. Information.

He understood now why Hugh insisted these gatherings mattered.

The charitable donations were real, and so were the connections formed between them, as one rarely existed without the other.

Alexander had just finished discussing educational outreach with one of California's appellate judges when he became aware of someone approaching from his left.

Not because of the sound but because conversations nearby had subtly changed.

People naturally made room without appearing to do so.

He turned.

For perhaps half a second, Alexander completely forgot what he'd been about to say, 'Holy MILF...!'

The woman approaching couldn't have been much older than thirty.

Long platinum-blonde hair framed a face that somehow balanced elegance and confidence with almost effortless perfection. A pristine white evening gown accentuated her tall, graceful figure without appearing excessive. Every measured step carried the quiet assurance of someone who had long since grown accustomed to every room inevitably noticing her entrance.

Beautiful felt insufficient.

She possessed the sort of presence magazines attempted to capture yet somehow never quite managed.

Alexander realised, with no small amount of embarrassment, that he'd been staring.

She noticed, and the faintest hint of amusement touched her lips before she extended a perfectly manicured hand and introduced herself, "Emma Frost."

Alexander accepted it perhaps half a second slower than he normally would've, "A-Alexander Jones."

Almost immediately, he mentally winced.

She smiled ever so slightly, "I know."

Fortunately, years spent accompanying Hugh to meetings asserted themselves almost immediately.

Alexander's expression settled back into its usual composed calm, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Frost."

"The pleasure is mine." Her blue eyes studied him with quiet interest, "I've been hoping we'd have an opportunity to speak."

Alexander raised an eyebrow, "I wasn't aware Industrial Illusions had attracted Frost International's attention."

"It has." Her answer arrived without hesitation, "You've built something rather remarkable in an astonishingly short amount of time."

"I've been fortunate."

"No." The response was calm, "You've been competent."

Alexander smiled politely, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You should."

For a few comfortable moments, the conversation drifted naturally.

Duel Monsters. Industrial Illusions' rapid expansion. The surprising speed with which the game had established itself across multiple age groups.

Emma asked thoughtful questions, but none felt intrusive, yet Alexander couldn't help noticing a pattern.

Every question seemed perfectly ordinary. Every answer she received revealed just a little more than the previous one. Enough to build a picture.

"...And you've turned down several licensing proposals," Emma observed.

"We have."

"Most companies your size would've accepted the first serious offer."

"Perhaps."

"You disagreed?"

"I believed waiting would produce better opportunities."

Emma regarded him for a quiet moment, "Interesting."

Alexander simply smiled.

She had learned almost nothing, but every answer had been truthful, yet none had revealed anything he hadn't intended.

Emma, meanwhile, reached toward his thoughts almost out of habit.

Nothing, not resistance, not confusion, simply nothing.

For the briefest instant, genuine surprise flickered behind her composed expression before disappearing just as quickly as if sinking into an endless ocean, 'Curious. Very curious...'

"I believe," Emma finally said, "that Frost International and Industrial Illusions may have complementary interests."

Alexander's curiosity genuinely sharpened, "In what regard?"

She smiled, "I'd rather discuss that somewhere considerably quieter than a charity gala."

"A formal meeting, then?"

"If your schedule permits."

"I'm certain we can arrange something."

"Excellent."

She produced an elegant business card seemingly from nowhere before offering it to him, "My assistant will coordinate with your office."

Alexander accepted it with a polite nod, "I look forward to hearing your proposal."

"As do I."

For another brief moment, Emma simply looked at him.

Then she smiled again; this one was smaller and more genuine, "Happy birthday, Mr Jones."

Alexander blinked, "Thank you..."

She inclined her head ever so slightly before disappearing back into the crowd as gracefully as she'd arrived.

Alexander watched her go for only a moment before he muttered, "Damn... She's stunning."

A familiar voice spoke from beside him, "That she is. But she is way out of your league."

Alexander turned to find Tony standing nearby, champagne glass in one hand, "You know her?"

"I do." He glanced toward Emma's retreating figure, "Unfortunately not as much as I'd like."

Alexander looked back across the ballroom, "I believe the people who'd like to know her like that would fill a stadium..."

In response, Tony chuckled before he said, "So I heard you're the kid turning the country upside down with some kind of card game... The birthday boy."

Alexander accepted the handshake, firm and confident exactly as expected, before saying with no malice in his tone, "And I heard you're the billionaire everyone's quietly hoping doesn't run Stark Industries into the ground."

Tony laughed, a genuine laugh and commented, "I like him already."

Jarvis, slightly behind him, also observed, "I suspected you would..."

"For someone your age, you've got remarkable composure."

"I've had good examples."

Tony glanced briefly toward Hugh and said, "Yeah. So have I."

The smile lingered on his face, yet his eyes less so.

For just an instant, Alexander caught something hidden beneath the effortless charisma: his grief and exhaustion, but it disappeared almost immediately beneath another easy smile.

"I'm impressed," Tony continued, "Your Industrial Illusions has been showing up in conversations I never expected to hear."

"I hope that's a good sign."

"So far?" Tony shrugged lightly, "People usually only talk that much when somebody's doing something right."

"I'll take that as encouragement."

"You should."

"In that case," Alexander said quietly, "congratulations on my part are probably just as appropriate."

Tony blinked as Alexander added, "On keeping Stark Industries moving forward."

For several seconds, Tony simply looked at him, then he smiled, much smaller than before but more genuine, "Not many people have said that..."

"They should."

"Maybe."

Nearby, Jarvis watched the exchange with quiet approval before politely stepping forward, "Mr Stark, Senator Morrison was hoping for a moment of your time."

Tony sighed dramatically, "Haa... Duty calls."

He turned back toward Alexander and said, "It was nice meeting you. One of these days I'll check that card game of yours..."

Alexander's smile became a bit mischievous as he said, "You are going to enjoy it."

"Anyway, I've got a feeling we'll run into each other again."

Alexander smiled, "I suspect you're right."

Tony offered one last nod before disappearing almost effortlessly into another cluster of influential guests while Jarvis followed at a respectful pace behind him.

Before leaving entirely, however, the elderly butler offered Alexander a polite nod of acknowledgement, and Alexander returned it.

The evening continued well into the night and by the time the final guests began departing, his cheeks actually hurt from all the fake smiling.

He quietly loosened his bow tie as he stepped outside beside Hugh.

The night air felt wonderfully cool after hours spent beneath ballroom lights.

His father glanced toward him and asked, "Tired?"

"A little."

"You handled yourself well."

Coming from Hugh, that was high praise.

Alexander smiled and said, "I learned from the best."

His father didn't answer immediately.

Instead, the faintest smile crossed his face as they walked toward the waiting car together.

~~~▽~~~

The following day couldn't have been more different.

No tuxedo. No cameras. No speeches. No carefully rehearsed smiles.

Only his friends.

Alexander had barely finished setting out drinks in the backyard when the doorbell rang.

Chuck immediately pushed himself off the patio chair, "I got it."

"You just want to see who arrived first."

"I also got it."

Alexander smiled to himself before following at a much more leisurely pace.

The front door opened, and Victor Von Doom stood outside.

Impeccably dressed as always, Victor held what was perhaps the most meticulously wrapped present Alexander had ever seen. Every fold of the paper aligned perfectly. The ribbon sat precisely centred, its knot so symmetrical it almost looked measured with scientific instruments.

Chuck groaned dramatically, "...You!"

Victor regarded him with complete indifference, "You remain unnecessarily loud."

"I missed you too."

"I find that unlikely."

Chuck placed a hand over his heart, "You wound me."

"I sincerely doubt that."

Alexander stepped forward before their exchange could escalate into another of their familiar verbal sparring matches, "Victor."

"Happy birthday."

His tone remained as composed as ever, though Alexander had known him long enough to recognise the effort hidden behind those two simple words, so he smiled and said, "Thank you."

Victor extended the gift with both hands, "It is merely... an acceptable token appropriate for the occasion."

Chuck leaned closer to Alexander, lowering his voice only slightly before commenting, "He definitely spent hours wrapping that."

Victor's head turned with almost mechanical precision.

His stare could have frozen lava and said, "You saw nothing."

"I saw craftsmanship."

"You saw nothing."

Alexander laughed before accepting the gift, "You didn't have to bring anything."

Victor folded his arms, "It would have been improper to arrive empty-handed."

"I still appreciate it."

Victor gave a small nod, "Good..."

For Victor, that was practically heartfelt.

The others had already gathered by the time Alexander returned to the backyard.

Julia had somehow arrived carrying two additional bags from a hobby shop despite insisting they weren't birthday presents, "They're for me."

Chuck looked at the bags and asked, "You bought presents for yourself."

"They happened to be near Alexander's birthday."

"I don't think that's how birthdays work."

"It worked perfectly."

Ginny quietly accepted a glass of lemonade from Alexander before taking a seat beneath the shade of the patio umbrella.

The atmosphere immediately settled into something comfortably familiar.

Nobody had planned an elaborate celebration. Nobody seemed interested in making a spectacle of the day.

That suited Alexander perfectly.

Naturally, someone especially loud produced Duel Monsters decks within fifteen minutes.

Alexander wasn't entirely certain who.

He suspected Chuck.

"I'm just saying," Chuck declared while shuffling enthusiastically, "the birthday boy should have to defend his title."

"What title?"

"The title of..." Chuck paused before he casually said, "...Birthday Champion."

Victor adjusted his cards, "That is among the least meaningful titles I have ever heard."

Chuck pointed dramatically, "That's because you've never won it."

"I was unaware it existed until approximately eight seconds ago."

"Exactly."

Alexander couldn't help smiling, "Fine."

He took his seat across from Chuck, "Let's see this championship."

Predictably, Chuck lost.

"I demand—"

"No."

Chuck blinked, "I didn't even finish."

"I know what you were going to say."

"...Best two out of three?"

Alexander looked toward Julia, "How many?"

Without hesitation, she opened her notebook, "One."

Chuck frowned, "You reset the count?"

"New day."

"Fair."

Victor watched the exchange in thoughtful silence before quietly remarking, "I must admit..."

Everyone looked toward him.

"...Your methods of record-keeping are commendably thorough."

Julia smiled brightly, "Thank you."

Chuck stared between the two of them and asked, "Did Victor just compliment someone?"

"I acknowledged competence."

"That's basically the same thing."

"It is not."

"It absolutely is."

Even Victor couldn't quite suppress the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Alexander noticed, but he wisely chose not to mention it.

The afternoon unfolded exactly as Alexander had hoped.

The group wandered through the arcade, where Chuck loudly celebrated every victory as though he'd won an international championship.

When he lost, Victor calmly explained, in painstaking mathematical detail, the statistical errors responsible for Chuck's defeat.

Alexander and Ginny exchanged amused glances while Julia wandered toward another row of machines.

Later they made their customary stop at a nearby hobby shop.

Julia disappeared almost immediately.

Chuck glanced toward the shelves before looking back at Alexander and said, "Five bucks says she's still looking at card artwork in twenty minutes."

"You'd lose."

"How?"

"She'll be here longer."

Twenty-five minutes later, Julia finally reappeared carrying only a single inexpensive card.

Chuck stared and muttered in a defeated tone, "You looked around for half an hour..."

"...For that?"

Julia smiled and said, "I really liked the illustration. You should make more like this, Lex."

Victor accepted the card when she handed it to him, "Indeed, the composition is balanced."

Julia's eyes brightened, "Right?"

"The use of negative space draws attention toward the central figure."

Alexander couldn't hide his surprise, "You know art?"

Victor looked mildly offended, "Naturally... I possess working eyes."

Chuck quietly leaned toward Alexander, "I think my nemesis just became best friends with my girlfriend..."

"We heard that."

At the same time, Julia also jokingly pinched and twisted his waist, making him let out a fake pained grunt before he said, "Ouch... Worth it."

By late afternoon, the summer heat naturally drew them toward the beach where they relaxed and had fun.

After that, far too much food followed.

As always, Chuck somehow ended up ordering enough for everyone before insisting he'd only intended to buy dinner for himself.

"No one believes that."

"I got carried away."

"You always get carried away."

"I have a gift."

"You certainly have something."

The conversation drifted effortlessly from topic to topic.

Upcoming movie releases. The next Duel Monsters expansion. School beginning again in a few months.

Whether Victor genuinely intended to spend his vacation reading advanced physics textbooks.

"I already have."

Chuck sighed, "I don't know why I asked."

As the afternoon slowly gave way to evening, the group eventually found themselves back at the park where they reunited at the start of the month.

The same familiar benches. The same walking paths. The same broad oak tree casting welcome shade across the grass.

Chuck and Julia wandered off toward a nearby food stand, still arguing over whether frozen yoghurt counted as ice cream.

Victor followed at a more dignified pace, apparently determined to ensure they didn't accidentally purchase something completely unreasonable.

That left Alexander and Ginny sitting quietly on one of the wooden benches.

Neither seemed especially interested in breaking the silence as they simply watched the others.

Chuck was animatedly gesturing as though purchasing dessert required complex negotiations. Julia was laughing while attempting to explain something with both hands. Victor somehow looked simultaneously patient and exasperated.

After several moments, Ginny spoke, "You look happy."

Alexander considered the observation before he admitted, "I am."

"You've been smiling all day."

"I suppose I have."

She nodded toward their friends, "They're good people."

"They are."

Another comfortable silence settled between them.

Eventually Alexander looked toward the slowly setting sun.

Yesterday he had stood among billionaires, senators, judges and celebrities.

People capable of shaping industries. Influencing governments. Changing the course of entire markets.

Today he had spent the entire afternoon laughing over card games, arcade machines and beach volleyball.

Neither world was false, and both were part of his life, but only one of them allowed him to forget, if only for a little while, everything resting upon his shoulders.

His friends didn't care that he was president of Industrial Illusions and creator of Duel Monsters.

They didn't care that he attended charity galas with politicians and corporate executives.

To Chuck, he was simply the friend who would give him another rematch.

To Julia, someone willing to spend half an hour with her talking about her budding passion.

To Ginny, a quiet companion who didn't mind sharing comfortable silences.

To Victor, a friend and rival worthy of respect.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Alexander realised he wouldn't have traded that for anything.

Sure, one of them might someday attempt world domination and become a god. Another might one day become an indispensable part of Stark Industries. One possessed enough competitive spirit to challenge probability itself. Another could happily spend hours appreciating good design.

But right now they were simply teenagers enjoying summer vacation together.

Chuck suddenly waved from across the lawn, "Lex!"

He looked up, "We're voting!"

"On what...?"

"Whether you're buying everyone ice cream."

Alexander laughed, "I wasn't aware this required a vote."

"It doesn't." Chuck grinned, "We already decided."

Victor adjusted his cuffs and said, "The motion carried unanimously as Doom demanded."

"It was not unanimous," Ginny observed.

Chuck looked mildly confused, "You voted against it?"

"No. I abstained."

"There you have it."

Chuck spread his arms triumphantly, "Democracy!"

Alexander shook his head with a smile before standing, "I suppose birthdays are expensive."

"They're delicious."

As they walked toward the food stand together, Alexander found himself lingering a step behind the others.

This was the birthday he would remember.