In Lone Star City, summer revolved around a humid-heat cycle—heat, rain, then more heat—occasionally interrupted by the tail end of hurricanes landing in the neighboring state.

The air conditioning in the old apartment had broken down ages ago, leaving it as nothing more than a decorative relic. When Nemo and Tolya moved in, they were already prepared for this. After the Meteor Shower Event, the fact that electricity bills had only doubled was considered a mercy under the Lone Star City government’s welfare policies.

Nemo had once asked his roommate how they survived the previous summer. Tolya answered that they had worked at the restaurant every day, which thankfully had air conditioning. When the heat became unbearable at home, Nemo had shared a "philosophical" comment with him: "Peace of mind keeps you cool." What the Taiwanese really meant was, "Keep complaining, and I’ll make you a dead man—then you’ll be nice and cool."

Tolya spent his time reading in the living room, claiming that staying cooped up in his small bedroom while not going out would drive him insane. His reading posture was less scholarly, though: clad in a tank top and shorts, he sprawled on the couch, a fan blowing directly at him, holding a book lazily in one hand. If Nemo happened to be home, he’d often notice his restless Russian roommate wriggling around like a slippery eel.

Nemo didn’t say much. This was, after all, the same blond-haired man who had spent almost every night at a bar before. And since it had only been a week after Tolya was discharged from the hospital, he was still adjusting to his “disabled” status mentally.

It was pretty rare for Nemo to stay in, but today he did. He spent most of his time helping Tolya with his homework and goofing around online. Still, he worked up a sweat from all the boredom.

Outside, a moderate convective rainstorm fell. Lone Star City, hugging the Gulf of Mexico, often carried a faint saltiness in the air during rainstorms, especially in summer. For someone like Nemo, unaccustomed to the briny tang, it was like visiting the beach—he felt compelled to shower afterward. Even though, before transmigration, he’d never gone to the beach to swim, only standing by the roadside to photograph rocky waves.

After his shower, Nemo walked into the living room, his upper body bare, with just a towel hanging around his neck, feeling that nice, cool satisfaction wash over him. Just as he was about to head back to his room to continue working on an online game quest, Tolya suddenly leapt up from the couch, dashed toward Nemo, and yanked the towel off him.

Nemo’s bullet wound on his left chest was exposed without warning.

“You... you…” Tolya stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. His trembling hand pointed at the deep red scab on Nemo’s chest. “Last time, it was your wrist. Now it’s your chest—near your heart. You’re hurt again! And you thought you could hide it with just a towel?”

“The more natural and simple the act, the better the effect,” Nemo replied calmly.

And Tolya had fallen for it. It made him furious!

“How’d you figure it out?” Nemo had noticed Tolya’s gaze wandering over him in recent days but hadn’t paid much attention, thinking it was just Tolya silently protesting being left out of Nemo’s outings. He never suspected that Tolya was zeroing in on the secret of his left chest.

“You’re too good at hiding things! You don’t show it on the outside, but I check the first aid kit every day, and it’s missing supplies. I need to know where you’re hurt!” Nemo always came home acting nonchalant, his body showing signs of post-workout activity. Tolya couldn’t figure out where he could possibly be injured and still manage to exercise.

“…Didn’t think I’d be caught like this.” What is this, a wife checking her husband’s wallet?“I got shot on the 25th last month. It’s been almost three weeks now. Once the wound scars over, it won’t be as troublesome anymore.”

“Matthew Grimm said during the press conference that he was almost assassinated. So it’s true you took a bullet for him! And it’s true you got shot near the heart! And it’s also true you went to the billionaire’s secret villa to recover! That’s why he canceled his attendance at the Greens negotiations on the 25th! But on the day I was discharged, your wound hadn’t even healed, and you still went to the negotiation site! And even celebrated a fake birthday with them!” Tolya accused, clearly agitated. “You lied to me, saying it was just a graze on your leg!”

The Russian reached out toward the bullet wound, as if to confirm its severity. But he hesitated and stopped just short of touching Nemo. Meanwhile, Nemo moved past him, plopped onto the couch, and turned on the TV to watch the news. Not giving up, Tolya followed and sat on the other end of the couch.

“As for the birthday cake, I didn’t know about it either. That was Matthew’s political stunt. It helped improve the treatment for Greens patients, so I didn’t bother to make a fuss. It’s just a cake—I don’t even like sweets. I finished what I needed to do and came right back that night, didn’t I?” Nemo said.

“That was…” Late at night, Nemo had come back to the apartment looking utterly worn out. He even borrowed the Westlake Restaurant’s kitchen to make Tolya’s favorite bar snacks.

At the time, Tolya had been deeply moved. He wasn’t actually crippled; he’d just been going stir-crazy from confinement. Nemo had seriously celebrated his discharge with him, even saying that having the old bullet fragments removed and no longer needing constant painkillers was worth celebrating.

"I'm just mad you went and took a bullet for Matthew Grimm! What are his bodyguards good for, just eating burgers?"

“I happened to be closest to him at the time and just wanted to pull him down to safety. I didn’t plan to shield him. Judging by the situation, the sniper’s real target was me. They tried to ambush me while I was distracted and even used an armor-piercing round, maybe aiming for a double kill. Luckily, our bulletproof shirts were the latest invention by Grimm Industries.” Nemo raised his left hand to demonstrate a defensive maneuver, while his right hand traced an imaginary bullet trajectory to his left chest.

“Why would you be a sniper’s target?” Tolya was completely stunned.

“I’ve made plenty of enemies with my past identity. It’s not surprising someone would still want me dead.”

Nemo didn’t mention his past affiliation with a certain vigilante group, as it significantly increased the amount of hatred he could attract.

“Yet you still show your face on TV!”

“You think I enjoy it? When reporters can’t get to Matthew, they come to me. If I want to secure citizenship, I have to maintain a good public image. And if I can use the media to help victims of the monster disease, there’s no reason not to say a few nice words. Besides, it’s better if the enemies come after me. At least with Grimm Group backing me, I can expose their trail. That’s better than them targeting the old comrades I can no longer remember.”

Nemo had given up on recovering his memories to preserve the secrecy of his old group. Luring the enemies to himself served as a form of protection in its own right.

“Did they catch the sniper?”

“Not yet. Everyone assumes the target was Matthew. The sniper used long-distance shooting with superpowers. Matthew told the federal government about it. With the presidential election coming up, let’s congratulate them for jumping the line on the CIA’s most-wanted list!”

“Well, at least that billionaire has some decency,” Tolya snorted.

“And you? How have you been since your discharge?” Nemo asked, more out of politeness, though he had already read Tolya’s medical records.

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“More than fine—I’m brimming with energy!”

“I figured as much.” Otherwise, why would you be bored enough to inspect the first aid kit every day? “If you feel self-conscious about hitting on someone at a bar while limping, maybe consider hiring a professional from a private studio instead. Just don’t bring anyone back here. I can even cover the cost this time—consider it an early birthday gift.” Nemo suggested kindly.

Tolya stared at Nemo as if he’d seen a ghost. “Are you telling me to hire a hooker…?”

“You look like you’re about to burst.”

"I am about to burst, but not in that way! And for the record, even with a bum leg, it doesn’t diminish my charm or skills in bed!"

“Are you going to have sex while pretending to limp? Isn’t that a bit too much work? Maybe take a short trip to another city, find a stranger, and have a fun night. I’ll sponsor your travel expenses.” Nemo said this with sincere concern.

Even though Nemo wasn’t really the type to be driven by desire, he totally got the occasional annoyances men had to deal with. After all, regular maintenance was necessary. Tolya clearly wasn’t the self-sufficient type; his always-open bedroom door and quick showers were enough to show that. The Russian man was just missing someone to embrace.

“Every day, people on forums ask what to do when they feel off after a one-night stand. Go to the hospital for tests, obviously! What a dumb question—do they think online commenters are doctors? You think I’m not worried about picking up a beauty or hiring a professional, only to find out they’ve been parasitized by a bloodsucking mosquito or infected with the Greens disease?”

"No research has yet shown what negative consequences might result from having intercourse with someone whose body contains mosquito eggs or maggots. You don’t need to combine all these worries together and overthink. Haven’t you also personally moved infected people with maggots and pupae?" Nemo said objectively, citing the latest research data from Matthew.

Tolya’s concerns were indeed reasonable. Nemo himself was curious about the possible outcomes of his Russian roommate’s hypothetical scenario, but meeting such experimental conditions would be incredibly challenging.

"That was impulsive—I was helping someone in need! If I suspected that a woman had something like that in her body, how could I even go through with it?" Tolya exclaimed, only now realizing how absurdly detached Nemo could be.

"Men fighting each other often end up exchanging bodily fluids—blood, saliva, sweat—spraying and splattering everywhere. If you want to ensure safety, don’t get too close to strangers or people who might hide their illnesses and aren’t trustworthy," Nemo added, in the spirit of gender equality, emphasizing the risks among men as well.

"Gross! Something so normal feels revolting when you say it!"

"Personal experience. Back in the dojo, it was like that."

"No wonder you're terrible at fighting. You should take down your opponent before they can entangle you. Offense is the best defense."

"Maybe I just didn’t have a life-or-death motive back then. It was more like a sport. Honestly, those memories are pretty vague."

The two fell silent for a moment, both pondering how to break through their current dilemma.

"Stable relationships are the way to go. You should start by getting to know a steady girlfriend. It could even give you some motivation in life. Language exchange is a good excuse. If you’re unsure how to start, I can recommend a few foreign language learning websites," Nemo suggested.

"Language exchange? For Russian?" Tolya seemed somewhat interested but turned his gaze away, not too hopeful.

"There are definitely girls out there who want to learn Russian—maybe they like Russian singers or literature. Not everyone is interested in politics or war. Besides, America’s main rival right now is China," Nemo commented realistically.

"And what if there’s no one who fits my type?"

"Then set a condition to practice a third language together. Chinese would be a good choice—neither of you would know it. You’d be bad, but she’d be worse. Or the other way around. If you don’t mind, you could try with a Chinese girl. Arrange a time and place, and practice over coffee."

"I don’t mind Chinese girls! But as for learning Chinese, studying with you is more than enough." Truthfully, Tolya felt that learning Chinese with Nemo was already exhausting. He didn’t want to extend his suffering with those intimidating characters; even English seemed adorable in comparison.

"You study with me, then find others to practice with! Bro!" Nemo said, exasperated. "If you can chat with girls at the same time, wouldn’t that kill two birds with one stone?"

"Um... well..." Tolya made a noncommittal sound of consideration.

"I’m not stopping you from going out, Tolya. I’m just telling you it’s not safe outside—just like you said to me. Sudden changes in lifestyle can be uncomfortable. I can see you’re not happy," Nemo noted. Tolya wasn’t like Nemo, who found solitude relaxing. Nemo knew Tolya enjoyed having people around him. It didn’t necessarily have to be women; even aimless chats with strangers in a bar would suffice.

"And if I really refuse? What can you do to me? I’m just not used to it. You’re like a storm, Nemo—suddenly sweeping me in. I quit my job as a waiter and stopped delivering food. I don’t go to bars anymore. I avoid everyone I know around here. I’m supposedly crippled in one leg. Out of nowhere, someone gives me a ton of cash just because I’m your roommate. And now I’m stuck at home all day studying. Honestly, it’s kind of annoying, but I don’t want to lose all this." Tolya gestured around the room.

"If I’m a storm, then you’re the sun. Anatoly means ‘sunrise,’ right? Siberia may be cold, but it still has sunlight. When I woke up at the airport with amnesia, it was like standing in a strange yet familiar world. I didn’t understand what was happening. The first person to call and tell me to come home was you. The one who took care of me when I was sick was also you."

Before Tolya could process this, Nemo pressed on, delivering a final blow: "It’d be too much to say this sun is warm, but during that first conversation in the dark, I did follow your sunrise back to Lone Star City. So is it wrong for me to want you to stay here?"

"I didn’t know you felt this way..." A suspicious blush crept across the Russian’s cheeks.

"It’s easy for people to go their separate ways, Anatoly. I don’t like forcing others, but I won’t give up easily either. The choice is yours, and it’s mine too. I want to save you half the rent, help you live better, and when disaster strikes, take you somewhere safe. Whatever resources I have, I’m willing to share them with you. I thought that’s what friends were supposed to do."

"Goddamn it! I should’ve had you write me a pickup guide back when bars were still safe! Watching that interview of you in Carnation Community, I should’ve known you had a silver tongue!" Tolya rubbed his face hard. Nemo’s heartfelt words were too overwhelming.

"But I’m worried that my past troubles might drag you, Boss, and Sunny Jie down. That complicates things..." Nemo said, pointing to the scar on his chest.

"I don’t care. Honestly, I’d rather help you take down the sniper. But I can’t make any promises for Boss or Sunny Jie," Tolya said, his anger smoldering as he glanced at the scar, the murderous intent bubbling within him like fractured ice colliding on a river.

"Actually, you can. Because I want to handle that assassin myself. Your focus should be on protecting Boss and Sunny Jie. Take the opportunity to learn bookkeeping from Sunny Jie, writing from Boss, and show our Boss how to properly use a gun. If Sunny Jie wants to learn as well, that’s even better. At least until Westlake Restaurant can’t keep going anymore."

"You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?"

"No, I just can’t understand how you can keep lying on the couch humming to yourself when there’s so much to do."

"After hearing you out, I suddenly feel like life right now is way too comfortable. It’s great." Tolya sprawled not just his left leg but his entire body across the couch, paralyzed with laziness.

"I promise you, catching that assassin is only a matter of time. But I have to work hard for it. Matthew is training me. He’s got professional equipment and an expert team," Nemo said seriously.

"Oh, really? Then show me what you’ve learned from the billionaire." It had been two months since Tolya last sparred with Nemo, and back then, Nemo was as clumsy as any regular person who couldn’t fight. He couldn’t even fake looking fierce.

Afterward, Nemo served as a bodyguard for both the supermodel and the billionaire. Tolya had always thought that was just rich people amusing themselves with a little chef, and Nemo getting shot had been the only thing that truly angered him.

Nemo picked up a dart Tolya had been mindlessly tossing near his reference books and flung it directly into the bullseye.

"Throwing darts isn’t a big deal. How do I know you didn’t secretly practice this at home?" Tolya stubbornly dismissed it, refusing to admit he was startled by Nemo’s fluid, lightning-fast movements.

Tolya suddenly realized that Nemo’s past wasn’t as simple as it seemed. At the very least, he had the resilience to withstand brutal torture. Many things he’d seemingly forgotten, but it didn’t mean he’d never known them. If Nemo’s hand-to-hand combat skills were rusty and reliant on instinct and muscle memory, it only implied that he was proficient with certain types of weapons. When Nemo said he wanted to kill the assassin who shot him, it wasn’t just an idle boast.

"What if that dart was a high-tech syringe with an auto-injection feature? Don’t forget the Grimm’s money power, Tolya."

"Whoever designed a weapon like that must be pretty sinister." The thought of a dart not just piercing the skin but injecting who-knows-what substance was enough to make one’s skin crawl.

"That would be my suggestion. Perfect for both close and ranged combat. I’ll leave the production challenges to Grimm Group."

"Sinister but ingenious," Tolya added a compliment to soften the jab.

"Quick on the uptake," Nemo said with a side glance.

Since Tolya had already figured it out, Nemo decided to stop hiding and openly pulled out a first aid kit.

"How’s your gunshot wound healing?"

"Some areas are still oozing, but most of it inside has healed a lot. No need to remove stitches; my body will absorb them naturally. I can shower, but afterward, I need to disinfect the wound with iodine, wipe it clean with saline, and cover it with Vaseline-coated gauze to prevent sticking. Just need to avoid constant friction with clothing." Nemo had become quite adept at managing his injury.

"I’ll do it for you," Tolya declared, snatching the first aid kit without waiting for a response.

Nemo knew Tolya was bored and looking for something to do. Feeling guilty for not noticing his roommate had been shot, he let him help.

Perhaps because of his time spent hanging out with gangs, Nemo noticed that Tolya’s bandaging skills were surprisingly efficient and precise, likely honed through countless instances of practice with his gang friends.

"The healing’s a bit slow. You must not be getting proper rest. And your constitution is terrible," Tolya grumbled, clearly not happy with the wound on Nemo's left chest.

Nemo couldn’t exactly tell him he had spent an entire week waiting for the black scales to disappear before the wound even started healing normally.

"Who says I’m not resting? I’m practically turning into a sloth. I get free, confidential treatment for my gunshot wound from Matthew’s family doctor at Grimm Tower, so at least the assassin won’t figure out how bad the damage really was. At the gym, I only brisk walk on the treadmill and do some stretching. Even if Matthew isn’t there, he’s watching through surveillance! Why would I deliberately aggravate my wound for no reason?" Nemo defended himself.

"I only believe half of what you say now." Tolya finished tending to the wound and neatly packed up the first aid kit.

"Believe what you want. Thanks."

"What exactly happened when the superpowered assassin shot you?" the Russian asked quietly.

"I was wearing a tight-fitting bulletproof shirt without any metal plates. The shooter probably thought the shirt was too weak to stop him. By the time the bullet pierced it, most of its lethality was already gone and got stuck in my mighty pecs, it’s just a fractured rib. If the bullet had hit my heart, I wouldn’t be sitting here now." As usual, Nemo skimmed over the critical details.

"Mighty pecs? Are you sure it wasn’t just the assassin running out of superpower juice, and the bullet only barely pricked you?" Tolya couldn’t resist a sarcastic comment and promptly received a kick to the chest from Nemo, sending him sliding halfway off the couch, his upper body dangling upside down with his waist caught on the armrest. The kick definitively proved that his Taiwanese roommate’s leg wasn’t injured by a bullet.

"What?" Nemo, the patient, was not to be defied.

The Russian straightened up from his awkward position with a flourish and smugly spread his arms. "See this? That's what a real man is made of."

"Then I’m about to test your manly strength in SAT skills. Apart from that, you went to school in Russia, didn’t you? Math should be universal. Where are the exercises you’ve completed?"

Tolya immediately collapsed back into his sprawled-out position, pretending to play dead with his eyes closed.