Marvel : Master of Role-Playing

"I have to admit..."

Tony wiped away his tears and looked again at Reid in front of him. At this moment, he suddenly realized that this old man wasn't as detestable as Howard.

At the very least, the old man's words brought back memories of his mother's smile and reminded him why he loved her so much.

"You do have a point. The only right thing that old man ever did in his life was loving my mother with all his heart."

Reid smiled, unfazed by Tony's stubbornness despite the tears glimmering in his eyes. Instead, he continued to guide him patiently.

"You must already know—your father was an exceptionally brilliant man, a true genius. Do you really think a genius who was attacked wouldn't know exactly who was behind the attack?"

In the original course of events, Howard and Maria died on the spot, and it took S.H.I.E.L.D. nearly 20 years to investigate the true cause of Howard's death. It wasn't until the Civil War period that the truth came to light, leading to the rift between Tony and Steve.

But now, Howard survived—though gravely injured. Yet Reid couldn't believe that a man who once advocated for absorbing Hydra's scientists into their ranks wouldn't have figured out who wanted to kill him.

Why did such a powerful attack occur only after he relinquished all responsibilities at S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Howard must have figured it out.

"He… he must know…"

Even someone as arrogant and self-assured as Tony Stark had to admit that Howard's brilliance was in no way inferior to his own.

"The one who was attacked is your father. He's the one who truly knows everything."

"But he won't tell me..."

"That's because you don't truly understand him."

Though interrupted again, Tony couldn't muster any anger. He had this peculiar feeling that this refined old gentleman seemed to know his family situation better than he did.

Reid continued speaking.

"Your father simply wasn't good at communicating with you, and you refused to communicate with him. I have a feeling he must have left something behind for you—something that can truly help you resolve the knots in your heart."

At this point, Reid extended his hand and gently patted Tony on the shoulder.

"My suggestion? Go home. Return to the place where your family once lived. Rediscover your father. And finally, inherit the truth directly from his lips."

...

Somehow, in a haze, Tony felt that this butler, named Alfred, possessed a certain kind of magic. His words seemed to naturally soothe turbulent hearts.

At least, by the time Tony snapped out of his thoughts, he was already standing outside Wayne Manor, holding a cup of tea brewed by the old gentleman.

"The teacup..."

Tony wanted to return the tea set, but the gates of Wayne Manor were already closed. Only Reid's voice echoed from inside.

"Keep it. When the time comes, return it along with my master's damaged luxury car."

Tony glanced at the cup of tea in his hand and then at the tightly shut gates of Wayne Manor.

Instead of hesitating further, he downed the tea in one go, carefully tucked the teacup away, and responded, "Mr. Alfred, my offer to recruit you will never end. If you ever feel like leaving this manor, you're always welcome at my villa."

...

Following Reid's advice, Tony didn't immediately visit his bedridden father at the Hospital after returning from Gotham to New York. Instead, he headed to the villa where Howard and Maria had once lived.

Ever since Tony was sent off to boarding school at an early age, he had rarely set foot in his parents' home. Perhaps it was his anger toward Howard's irresponsible behavior, or maybe he didn't want his mother to witness the constant arguments between him and his father.

In any case, this was the first time in years that Tony had returned to this place.

The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted by walls filled with photos in the living room.

The subjects of those photos were exclusively Howard and Maria.

As though this villa belonged solely to Howard and Maria, there wasn't a single trace of Tony in any of the pictures.

It was as if, to this loving couple, their son didn't exist at all.

"So, my absence from home made no difference to my mother?"

Tony's expression crumbled, oscillating uncontrollably between calm and sorrow.

This was the home where his beloved mother had lived, filled with so many photos preserving memories of the past. And yet, there wasn't a single one of him among them. Could there be anything more heartbreaking?

He pushed open the storage room. Inside were photographs of his mother in her youth, alongside the numerous awards Howard had received from the end of World War II to the present.

It wasn't until Tony moved everything aside that he discovered, at the very bottom, his childhood bicycle. He vividly remembered how he had begged Howard to teach him to ride, only to be ignored. In the end, he taught himself through countless falls and scraped knees.

As he walked out of the storage room, Tony couldn't shake the feeling that this place had nothing to do with him. It didn't feel like his parents' house. It felt like the house of two strangers.

There was hardly any evidence left to prove that he had ever been a part of this home. Yet he knew he had lived here as a child—right across from the storage room.

Turning around, Tony's gaze fell on the door to his childhood room.

There, written in his mother's handwriting, was a name: "Tony."

Clinging to his last shred of hope, Tony stepped into his childhood room. At that moment, he realized he had been wrong.

His presence hadn't been erased from this villa—it had simply been concentrated and preserved within this small room.

The walls surrounding him were like a flowing river of time, filled with various items from his childhood up until the day he chose to leave and live on his own. Everything was meticulously arranged, as though each object told a story of the past.

Taking a slow look around the room, Tony felt as if he were reliving his childhood all over again.

The toys he thought were broken and discarded had been lovingly repaired. The awards he had won over the years were proudly displayed in a spotless glass cabinet.

It had been three days since his parents' accident, but not a speck of dust could be found in the room.

"They must have come here often… Did they come into my room to revisit my life and everything I've been through?"

In that instant, Tony felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for Alfred's advice. Instead of blindly seeking the truth, he had come here and found pieces of his past. More importantly, he felt the undeniable love his parents had for him.

And then, his eyes landed on something.

"What's this…"

On the nightstand sat a videotape, its appearance showing the wear of at least a decade.

Holding the tape carefully, Tony retrieved Howard's favorite old projector from the storage room. He gently inserted the tape and pressed the play button.

The screen flickered to life, and images from over ten years ago began to unfold before Tony's eyes.