What should you do if you find an unconscious naked man in the forest?

Correct answer: Call the police immediately.

Nemo thought so, too.

Unfortunately, there was no radio signal in the area. He quickly switched to the mountain rescue channel and called repeatedly, but there was no response.

“Damn it!” Nemo strode quickly to the naked man’s side but hesitated just as he bent down. He suddenly recalled his Russian roommate’s warnings about the mysterious disappearances in the forest.

He stared intently at the man's muscular, V-shaped back and noticed that it was faintly rising and falling. For some reason, his chest tightened. Nemo had once picked up injured, weak kittens and birds from the roadside without much thought, simply because he couldn’t just leave them behind. If small animals deserved that much care, how could he ignore a fully-grown man? Was this how boss Liu felt when he found him in the border forest?

Even so... Nemo clenched his fists instinctively. The world was becoming increasingly dangerous. Even if the man looked human, it would be foolish to let his guard down.

There had been a light rain the night before. If this dark-haired man had been lying unconscious and naked in the wilderness all night, hypothermia would have killed him before rescue arrived, even if his heart was still beating. The man’s pale skin was covered in scars and bruises, an unsettling sight to behold.

Initially, Nemo assumed that only junkies high on drugs would strip naked in a secluded forest. But junkies didn’t usually have combat-ready, well-proportioned muscles or thick, healthy black hair with a bluish sheen. Nemo, who had trained in special combat before his “crossing,” could tell at a glance that this unconscious man hadn’t just sculpted his physique by casually lifting weights at a gym and drinking protein shakes.

If he had time to work on his body, why didn’t he bother tanning to achieve the American-preferred golden bronze? That was Nemo’s first impression of something “off.”

The man was clearly over six feet tall, and based on his muscular build, he probably weighed around two hundred pounds—about ninety kilograms—an athlete’s physique built for both power and speed. While his body was covered in scrapes and bruises, Nemo couldn’t immediately spot any bleeding wounds or signs of broken bones.

His eyes quickly skipped over the man’s firm backside in embarrassment before landing on the soles of his feet, where the injuries were most severe—as if he’d been running desperately, with bad guys on his tail.

The man was lying face down, with his right forearm tucked under his face. Nemo couldn’t see his features, but this position meant that with a bend of the knees and a push of the hands, he could immediately spring into an attack. Anyone with experience in grappling arts knew not to approach someone lying down carelessly.

Nemo was no exception.

“Hello? Sir? Do you need help?” Nemo called out a few times, but there was no response.

Something about the man’s tall frame and dark hair seemed vaguely familiar. Nemo wasn’t an NBA fan and rarely encountered men over 6’3”. Tolya’s Russian friends might include a few tall guys with dark hair, but there was no mistaking the tattoos. Imagining him with clothes on... the sense of déjà vu grew stronger.

Taking a deep breath, he dared to nudge the man’s chin up with the tip of his shoe.

The man’s bangs slid aside, revealing a face that looked like it had been sculpted by a Greek artisan. Long lashes trembled slightly, and his expression showed a trace of pain, as if he was gradually waking up from Nemo’s presence and calls.

“Matthew Grimm?” Nemo blurted out the “magic” name without thinking, as though he were stating something as recognizable as the American flag itself. That face wasn’t just associated with power and wealth—it was synonymous with American military might.

At that moment, the man’s golden eyes snapped open, dazzlingly intense in the morning light. Any thought of him being a celebrity lookalike vanished instantly.

Nemo instinctively recoiled, pulling his foot back in a hurry. The billionaire’s handsome face dropped straight back to the ground with a thud.

“...”

Maybe he was an alien impersonating the world’s richest man. Yes, that had to be it.

The man began to move, painfully propping himself up into a sitting position. Nemo stayed three steps away from him the entire time.

The billionaire’s calm gaze didn’t seem too out of place. Severe hypothermia could cause disorientation and a false sense of warmth, prompting people to strip off their clothes. But clearly, that wasn’t the case here.

“Did you just lift my chin with your foot?” The man coughed twice, his voice hoarse from dehydration.

Nemo nodded without shame. “Sorry, I was worried you were some drug addict high on bath salts who might bite my face off. Or maybe you’d been parasitized by an alien in the forest.”

The billionaire was speechless. “You’re... a cautious person. Good.” His lips were pale, and his hands trembled noticeably.

Without hesitation, Nemo unscrewed his thermos and poured a cup of ginger tea. He thrust it into the man’s hands. “Drink this. It’s for energy.”

The billionaire sniffed the dark liquid warily, then drank a sip and immediately winced as if he’d been burned.

“I made it myself with old ginger and brown sugar. I also added goji berries and red dates for nutrition. Drink it all, and you won’t feel cold,” Nemo coaxed, comforting him.

“You know who I am.” It wasn’t a question.

“I recognize you. Your eye color is rare, and you’re often on the news. I doubt there’s anyone in Lone Star City who wouldn’t recognize you.” That was as much as Nemo was willing to admit objectively. Anything else—like how impossibly handsome, wealthy, or fit the man was—he couldn’t say it even if he tore his mouth open.

“What were you doing in the forest?” the golden-eyed man asked cautiously.

“Camping to clear my mind. You?” Nemo gestured to his backpack and sleeping mat.

“I was kidnapped for ransom. They set up a tent out here. Last night, two of the kidnappers went to collect the money, leaving one to guard me. I pretended to sleep, and when the guard stepped away to relieve himself, I escaped but got lost.”

Matthew Grimm had no strength left to posture and sipped his ginger tea with a regal air despite everything.

Nemo admitted his tea was, in fact, very hot and quite spicy.

By the wild reputation of Matthew Grimm, a man known for escapades that were practically intergalactic, if he hadn’t just admitted to being kidnapped, Nemo would’ve assumed he’d been role-playing with a harem of beautiful women. It wouldn’t have been the first time a story like that hit the news.

But now that Grimm had admitted to escaping, it meant the kidnappers could be close behind. This was no time for idle chit-chat.

He should treat the injured victim with more kindness, but it all seemed so absurd.

Perhaps Mr. Grimm’s dazed reaction stemmed from a mental breakdown, or maybe the world’s richest man was simply accustomed to being kidnapped. Regardless, being able to communicate rationally was far better than hysteria. Nemo wasn’t interested in other people’s chastity, and showing curiosity or sympathy would only make things worse. That was between Matthew Grimm and his doctor.

"I wasn’t sexually assaulted. They just wanted to take nude photos to continue blackmailing me. Plus, they refused to give me clothes so it’d be harder to escape through the forest," the billionaire explained, evidently adept at reading microexpressions.

"I have no interest in gossiping with reporters. You’re okay, that’s what matters," Nemo said honestly. "Here, wear my socks. It’s better than nothing."

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Grimm's foot doesn’t look good; running will surely worsen the injury. There wasn’t enough time to properly treat his wounds with Nemo’s first aid kit, and Nemo had no intention of being slowed down.

Nemo bent down to remove his shoes, giving Grimm no chance to decline. The billionaire obediently complied after a brief thank-you, though Nemo sighed. Mr. Grimm wearing nothing but socks somehow made him look even more like a pervert.

Right now, Nemo felt as if he had a ticking time bomb strapped to his waist. If Grimm started being fussy, Nemo might actually punch him.

"How far is the kidnappers’ camp? How long have you been running?" Nemo asked.

"They took my watch and phone. I escaped at dawn."

"Then you haven’t been unconscious for long, and the camp isn’t far from here." That explained why Matthew Grimm’s condition wasn’t as bad as expected. It meant that taking him along could still work, but it also confirmed that danger was close.

After a moment’s struggle, Nemo took off his flight jacket as well.

"Tie it around your waist to cover yourself. It’s hard on the eyes otherwise."

"You’re very thoughtful. I was so focused on escaping that I forgot," Grimm said, visibly touched.

I wish I could forget! Nemo screamed internally.

"Can you still walk?"

"I can." Despite his words, the billionaire stumbled when trying to stand.

Nemo took a deep breath, casting a longing look at his hiking backpack, which he had set down earlier to remove his jacket. Human lives came first. As long as his utility belt with essential items was still secure, he could manage.

The next moment, Nemo positioned himself beside the taller man, looping one arm under Grimm’s to avoid his injuries. Placing a hand against Grimm’s back, he braced himself with his thighs and used his shoulder to support the billionaire’s weight.

Only one thought crossed his mind: Heavy.

"Your backpack..."

"Forget it. Let’s focus on getting to my car first."

"Is it far?"

"Not really. This is my first time camping in the mountains, so if we don’t rest, it should only take about two hours to reach the paved road. Without the gear, it’ll be even faster—but it might be tough for you."

Because of their close proximity, Nemo could hear the steady rhythm of Grimm’s heartbeat. His skin, initially cold, wasn’t showing signs of severe hypothermia. After drinking some ginger tea and moving around, his body temperature was gradually returning to normal. The main issue seemed to be his foot injuries, which prevented him from running. If it weren’t a life-or-death situation, Nemo would’ve preferred to let him rest, add layers for warmth, and properly conceal him. But now, the priority was to reach a place with radio coverage and call for help then get back to the car and escape as fast as possible. Every second counted.

"I’m stronger than I look. The tranquilizer they gave me has mostly worn off. Let’s go. I’m counting on you to lead the way. The kidnappers have guns, and we can’t outrun bullets," Matthew Grimm said, delivering another piece of bad news.

"Hold onto my thermos. If no pursuers show up after we’ve walked a while, take a few more sips." Nemo instructed. If pursuers did show up, he’d have to fight for his life. Anyone bold enough to kidnap the world’s richest man wasn’t likely to go easy on him. While Grimm might be spared, Nemo knew his odds of being silenced were high.

"Got it." Grimm replied cooperatively.

Along the way, Nemo repeatedly attempted to send distress signals, but strangely, the spots where he had previously confirmed a signal now failed.

"That’s odd. Atmospheric conditions at dawn and dusk should make radio waves travel more easily."

"Many areas are still dealing with magnetic field instability caused by the meteor shower impacts and debris. Civilian radios like yours can be unreliable in these conditions," Grimm explained.

That made sense. Nemo’s cheap radio was more for peace of mind than anything else.

"The car’s radio should be able to reach someone, though. By the time we’re back on the road, cell phones should work too." With network coverage now limited to specific regions, nearly every car was equipped with a radio transceiver, some with boosted power that could double as a personal radio station.

Thanks to adrenaline, and the fact that Nemo had taken his time to scout the area leisurely yesterday, the two of them made it back to the car in less than half the time it had taken him to get there. Along the way, Nemo even dismantled his markers and mischievously rearranged some old trail flags. Once at the lot, Nemo retrieved a blanket from the back seat and handed it to Grimm, then quickly started the car.

Even as the Honda sped down the forest road toward the city, Nemo couldn’t relax. The kidnappers who had gone to withdraw the ransom might return, discover their hostage missing, and chase after them with full firepower. All Nemo had at hand was a bottle of ketchup he kept in the car for convenience—granted, its spray power was impressive.

Nemo turned on the radio but didn’t hear any breaking news about the kidnapping of the Grimm Group’s leader. He glanced suspiciously at the golden-eyed man curled up in the passenger seat, looking pitifully exhausted under the blanket.

"Weren’t you kidnapped? Why hasn’t your family called the police?"

"My team is more effective than the police. Besides, I’m the only surviving member of the Grimm family. My mother died in an accident during the Meteor Shower Event; she was a top secret. As for my father, he fell gravely ill afterward and chose euthanasia a week ago. His will stipulates that news of his death should only be made public after the company’s power transition stabilizes. I was probably still in a daze from all that, which is how I got kidnapped."

Unlike other billionaires, whose assets were primarily tied up in stocks, the Grimm Group’s net worth had skyrocketed post-meteor-shower due to government contracts. Governments around the world were scrambling to rebuild their militaries, with the U.S. being first in line. The company’s order backlog now stretched 30 years into the future. Unsurprisingly, Grimm’s stock value hadn’t just held—it had soared.

The bodyguard and the assistant had likely already received instructions from Matthew Grimm to avoid involving the police, even in the event of an emergency.

Nemo could understand why Grimm wouldn’t want to risk appearing vulnerable in the media or being painted as a victim.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Nemo said sincerely. He had rarely seen any news about Grimm’s parents, but he knew the elder Grimm had been preparing to hand over his military-industrial empire to his son for years. Nemo wasn’t deeply invested in corporate drama, but he could imagine the challenges of transferring such immense interests. When a giant falls, the parasites emerge, and in those moments, it’s best to conceal any weaknesses as tightly as possible.

After driving for about twenty minutes, Nemo glanced at the rearview mirror and saw no suspicious vehicles following them. It seemed luck was on their side. Perhaps the kidnapper left behind had gotten even more lost than they expected. Nemo had been marking his trail ever since he noticed his compass was off, and he wasn’t foolish enough to venture into the forest without first familiarizing himself with the area.

During the drive, Grimm didn’t ask to borrow Nemo’s phone to call the police. While Nemo wasn’t directly involved, he’d certainly been dragged into the situation. For safety’s sake, he felt compelled to clarify Grimm’s intentions. “So, what’s your plan for dealing with this? Whether or not you call the police is up to you, but if you need me to go to the station to give a statement, I’ll cooperate.”

“Hmm. I’d prefer to handle it privately.”

“Fair enough,” Nemo replied without hesitation. He hated dealing with unnecessary complications, and it seemed Grimm had his own methods of dealing with things. That was one less thing for Nemo to worry about.

Keeping the car at a steady pace, Nemo guided the Honda around another bend in the mountain road.

The golden-eyed man studied the calm, curly-haired youth for a while, a faint smile playing on his lips. “I must thank you, my savior. What sort of reward would you like?”

“It was no big deal. No need to make it complicated.” Nemo said with a casual wave of his hand. “But if you insist, maybe have your employees order more takeout from my restaurant when they’re in the mood. Not to brag, but my cooking’s pretty good.”

“You’re a chef?”

“Yeah, something like that. I take on a variety of small jobs here and there. As long as it pays the bills, I’m content.”

“Ah, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself earlier,” Grimm said, his smile widening.

“Matthew Grimm, founder of Grimm Group. And you are?”

Grimm Group. GG. Nemo had to stifle a laugh. Every time he heard that name, he and his Russian roommate couldn’t resist joking, “Did you GG today?” It had become an inside joke between them.

“Nemo. Head chef at Westlake Restaurant,” he replied.

Grimm’s smile grew even brighter. “Your surname?”

“Nemo Captain,” Nemo said with a resigned sigh. If the man wanted to laugh, he might as well laugh his heart out. Maybe Nemo would go home and stick a few pins into the little straw doll he’d made for his boss, who had given him this ridiculous name when he lost his ID years ago. Couldn’t boss Liu have come up with something less absurd?

“Impressive,” Grimm said warmly. Perhaps he’d remembered that Nemo was still driving on a winding mountain road and chose not to push his luck. “By the way, no need for formalities. Please, just call me Matthew.”

“Likewise. Everyone calls me Nemo.” Since it wasn’t his real name, it didn’t matter much anyway.

Matthew adjusted the car’s radio to a specific frequency and spoke into a transmitter, sending out a series of codes. A cryptic reply came back shortly after.

“I’ve asked my people to pick me up. Could you drive to this coordinate?” he asked, handing over a piece of paper.

Nemo checked his offline map. He rarely relied on GPS for navigation, preferring the reliability of paper maps. The coordinates Matthew provided were on the other side of the mountain, in a sparsely populated area with wide, open roads. It was almost certainly a rendezvous point for a helicopter.

“Do you have a British butler?” Nemo couldn’t resist teasing him a little.

“Not quite. I’m currently staying at a hotel until my new residence is ready, and the manager has arranged for a private butler. I’ve rarely been home in the past, so my personal matters are usually handled by a team of assistants. Why do you ask?”

Matthew explained, his tone indicating he was a workaholic who often threw himself into new projects with much regard for day or night. Even when he played, he played hard, though he made sure his assistants had proper time off.

“Nothing, just curious about how the world’s richest man lives.”

“If you’d like, I could show you firsthand.” Matthew offered with a grin.

“Thanks, but I probably wouldn’t have the time. Hearing about it is enough for me.”

As expected, Matthew’s ride turned out to be a helicopter, its frame bristling with weapon mounts. Nemo nearly choked when he saw it. A machine gun was one thing, but missiles? Seriously? How was this not illegal?

The rotor blades kicked up a gust of wind, and Nemo immediately turned his face away—not because of the dust, but because Matthew’s old jacket, tied loosely around his waist, billowed like Marilyn Monroe’s iconic dress. It was a sight Nemo could have done without.

A man in a black suit descended from the helicopter and respectfully handed Matthew an overcoat. After wrapping it around himself and tying the belt securely, Matthew climbed aboard. Before boarding, he raised the restaurant’s business card to his lips and kissed it. “Goodbye, Nemo. Take care.”

“You too,” Nemo replied, the farewell feeling oddly casual, as if they were old friends.

Matthew Grimm, for all his charm, was a true playboy.