Given Nemo's indifferent attitude toward his amnesia and his sharp instincts in times of disaster, Tolya always thought it wouldn’t be surprising if Nemo’s true identity included connections to assassins or terrorists.

"You know who sent the package!" Tolya finally pointed out the obvious flaw in logic.

Nemo was the one who signed for it. Of course, he knew who sent it!

"Mm, more or less," Nemo replied nonchalantly.

If Nemo hadn’t immediately taken the mysterious gift to his room, it must mean he had no issue opening it in front of Tolya.

"Then just open it already! Or are you waiting until I leave for work so you can secretly unpack it? That’s mental torture, man!" Tolya accused him, knowing full well Nemo was the kind of person who would do just that.

"I just want to finish my breakfast first. It seems there is nothing important inside. If you’re so eager, why don’t you open it for me?" Nemo didn’t even look up, his attention now fully absorbed in the morning news on his phone.

Their apartment’s Wi-Fi was painfully limited in bandwidth, so text-only forums and news sites had become trendy again. For Nemo, who had been a regular PTT user before crossing into this new life, text-based formats were not just convenient; they almost felt like a comforting throwback.

Since Nemo gave permission, Tolya didn’t hold back. He picked up the package, weighing it in his hand. It wasn’t heavy, and the contents felt soft, like fabric.

Then he caught sight of the sender's address. Instantly, he froze in place like a statue.

"Grimm Tower? When the hell did you get involved with that corporation? Was it one of their employees who got food poisoning from our takeout and decided to exact some twisted revenge on you as the chef? GG, guys! We're done for this time!"

Nemo ignored him. Tolya gave up trying to provoke a reaction, realizing he was on the verge of being late for work.

Tolya carefully unwrapped the package, making sure not to tear the ribbon or damage the box. It wasn’t that he was genuinely worried about potential biological weapons inside—it was just that items of such refined craftsmanship were rare in their everyday lives. If it had been left to Nemo, he would have torn into it with reckless abandon.

In these subtle details, Tolya could clearly see the vast difference in their backgrounds. Growing up in Taiwan, Nemo had grown accustomed to the abundance of affordable imports, knock-offs, and finely crafted goods that were always within reach. From the stationery and lifestyle products in Taiwanese bookstores to the vast array of international snacks and dishes. Even the bakeries found in every street and alley, Tolya felt that Nemo's understanding of bread was completely different from his own. To Tolya, however, they seemed like treasures from another world.

Whenever Nemo described the daily life of ordinary people in Taiwan, Tolya couldn’t help but think, “You’re pulling my leg,” especially when it came to the National Health Insurance—especially the world’s best National Health Insurance! Although Nemo always insisted that, if you didn’t factor in healthcare, Japan next door was even more outrageous.

Though Tolya was used to the grandeur of Moscow’s classical beauty, he saw Taiwan as an incredible, almost magical, island of possibilities. The U.S., on the other hand… well, the average American lifestyle is a bit rough, especially for those in the lower classes.

Even with his memory lost, Nemo remained unfazed by the occasional flashes of beauty and elegance that life offered. He accepted them with ease, as though they were nothing out of the ordinary, effortlessly integrated into his existence.

Inside the box was a pristine black military-style coat, folded neatly. Tolya’s large, calloused hands trembled slightly as he caught sight of the label stitched into the coat. The brand’s logo practically sparkled with luxury.

"Nemo, this coat looks expensive," Tolya exclaimed.

"Oh? Is it clothes? I wouldn’t know the brand even if you told me," Nemo said, glancing up briefly before returning to his phone. Mentioning rare in-game equipment might’ve sparked more recognition.

"There’s a note, too. Are you really not going to come over here and look at this?" Money clouded Tolya’s vision; it was as if he could no longer understand English.

"I’m reading the news. Just read it out loud for me," Nemo’s casual tone didn’t waver.

Once he was invested in an article, he had to finish it—but multitasking wasn’t a problem for him.

"Fine, but don’t blame me if there’s something in here you didn’t want to hear," Tolya said.

"My mind and actions are as clear as a mirror," Nemo replied smugly.

Tolya cleared his throat and read the note aloud:

To Captain* Nemo:

You are my hero.

P.S. I’m terribly sorry, but your jacket was accidentally discarded by housekeeping. Please forgive me. Stay in touch.

Yours sincerely,

Matthew.

The message didn’t seem to surprise Nemo. The curly-haired young man muttered to himself, "A pun? Seriously?"

"Uh… bro, there’s also a private phone number written on the back of this note. I have to say, this whole message is kind of unsettling," Tolya said, pointing out the oddities—like the mention of the jacket and housekeeping.

Nemo typically wore the same flight jacket, day in and day out. If it got dirty, he’d take it to the laundromat and toss it straight into the dryer. Over time, the jacket had become worn but still serviceable, and Nemo seemed content to keep wearing it. Yet yesterday, at the restaurant, he hadn’t been wearing it. In February’s chilly weather, Nemo’s nose had turned red from the cold, even though he was wearing a pullover sweater. (Meanwhile, Tolya and boss Liu were both comfortable in short sleeves.)

Sunny Jie and boss Liu once explained that Nemo’s tendency to bundle up in layers even during mild winters was likely due to lingering health issues from injuries he hadn’t fully recovered from. Although Nemo had no memory of the pain he endured, his body evidently remembered it well.

Tolya had lent Nemo an extra blanket when he returned from the airport feverish and sick after his memory loss. Nemo had held onto that blanket ever since, even offering to pay Tolya to buy a new one. Tolya guessed that Nemo preferred to keep things he’d used, likely out of a subconscious desire to preserve some tangible trace of his own existence.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

No one understood Nemo’s attachment to warm, comforting items better than Tolya.

That flight jacket, which Nemo had worn almost every day since waking up in this strange new world, had now been thrown out. The emotional blow must have been immense.

But while Tolya felt sympathy, Nemo saw things differently. He figured that the presidential suite of a billionaire probably churned through piles of torn, dirty clothes on a regular basis. Mistakes like this were inevitable and not worth fussing over. Clearly, Matthew thought the same, as he had replaced the jacket with a high-end designer coat. To Nemo, this was a fair trade: an old jacket for a brand-new one.

Nemo draped the military coat over his shoulders with a practiced nonchalance, the kind of effortless cool that left Tolya momentarily stunned—despite the fact that Nemo was still wearing striped pajamas underneath.

"Not bad. Seems like it fits," Nemo commented, though he hadn’t actually tried it on properly yet.

Of course it fit. Matthew had likely used Nemo’s discarded jacket as a reference for sizing. It was either meticulous thoughtfulness or the work of an overcompetent assistant.

"You should put on some real clothes and model that coat properly. I’ll take a picture and send it to Sunny Jie and boss," Tolya suggested enthusiastically.

Nemo, ever the champion of the stay-at-home-in-pajamas lifestyle, donned a designer coat for the first time, achieving an almost superhero-like transformation. This spoke volumes about how disheveled and lazy his roommate usually was. Tolya figured that Nemo must have channeled all his obsessive cleanliness into his work at the restaurant.

Nemo refused. "I look great every day, thanks," he said with a smirk. " Besides, I’m not heading out anytime soon, so why bother? Total waste of effort." He hung the military coat in the wardrobe with a sigh, adding, "It’s a nice piece, but it’s way too fitted. No chance I can wear a puffer vest under it."

Tolya nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

"Wait… Matthew? That Matthew?" Tolya asked, forming the company’s iconic deer-antler logo with his fingers. Everything—from the sender’s address at the city’s most famous skyscraper to the signature colors of the ribbon—screamed Grimm Group. If someone couldn’t piece that together, they’d have to be blind.

“I happened to save him once in the forest,” Nemo explained, his tone indifferent. “Matthew Grimm got caught in a tree after a skydiving mishap. I just acted as a temporary crutch and taxi service. I didn’t expect him to be this polite about it.”

Nemo casually borrowed the synopsis of a Korean drama he’d never actually watched to summarize the situation.

“So, even rich people aren’t always rude idiots, huh?” Tolya remarked, puffing up with pride as though Nemo’s new ‘hero’ status reflected on him. After all, saving the world’s wealthiest man? That was legendary. “Too bad we’re not the same size, or I’d borrow that fancy coat for my dates. Even just for a photo, man.”

Having just eaten, the pleasant feeling of his blood sugar rising made Nemo too lazy to move. Otherwise, upon hearing the words "different size," he would have definitely confiscated the sandwich and kicked his clueless roommate for good measure.

“From what I’ve seen, both in person and on the news, I’d say Matthew Grimm probably fits the bill for what you’d call a ‘social butterfly’—good at making connections and charming everyone in the room. It’s no wonder he’s popular.” Nemo sighed lightly, as though reflecting on how utterly opposite the two of them were.

“Oh, right. How did your jacket even end up with him?” Tolya asked, waiting until he’d finished his sandwich to bring it up—perfectly casual, as if the question had just occurred to him.

“Used it to wrap a wound,” Nemo replied without blinking.

“Got it.” Tolya exhaled in relief, dispelling the far-fetched scenarios he’d briefly entertained—some aphrodisiac pollen or dubious magic. Thankfully, he’d been worried for nothing.

“It’s fine. Even if he cleaned and returned the jacket, I wouldn’t wear it again.” Nemo said matter-of-factly.

“How about this: Let’s take the night off and hit the mall together? I need some new clothes too. You’re not seriously planning to wear that branded coat to work, are you?”

Nemo initially thought clothes were just clothes—wear them until they’re worn out and then replace them. But as the reality of workplace gossip about the coat sank in, he decided it was better to avoid unnecessary drama. Reluctantly, he nodded in agreement.

※※※

Time flew, and before long, it was New Year’s Eve. For the past few days, the staff at Westlake Restaurant had been busy preparing boxes of red envelopes to hand out with every meal during the holiday season. Each envelope contained a single cent, just a token for good luck and prosperity.

To most Americans, New Year’s Eve (除夕) was just another day, but in Chinese culture, it symbolized family reunion and an intense trial for the restaurant industry. That day, even Nemo had to work a full shift, and the delivery staff were all hands on deck. At least the pay was triple the usual, so no one complained. In fact, they were eager to rake in tips.

With orders piling up beyond capacity, Sunny Jie decided to extend their hours until 2 a.m., hoping to cater to customers wanting to celebrate the New Year with late-night snacks. Though Russian, Tolya was arguably the most enthusiastic of them all. He even dressed in a rented red mandarin jacket and a round cap, standing outside to attract curious passersby into the restaurant. His efforts paid off, bringing in a crowd of American customers intrigued by Chinese New Year traditions. The boss couple, impressed by his dedication, promised him an extra-large red envelope as a reward.

As for Nemo, he didn’t feel anything special—it was just a busy day. Still, the extra pay was a silver lining.

By 9 p.m., the dinner rush had started to wane. The remaining customers were a mix of regulars looking to share the festive spirit and exhausted office workers needing a late-night meal. The local police department, loyal patrons of Westlake, also made their usual appearance.

Though tired, Tolya was genuinely happy. Holidays like this reminded him of Christmas and Thanksgiving in the U.S. or New Year’s in Japan—days when people exchanged greetings and kindness just because. It felt as though the world was brimming with love. His homeland, meanwhile, was embroiled in a loathsome war. Men were sent to die in droves, chewed up by the war machine or punished for dissent. The contrast was stark, and the warmth of festive camaraderie was something Tolya desperately needed.

But tonight, his typically aloof roommate seemed even colder, completely unmoved by the festive atmosphere. Instead of joining in the holiday cheer, he went as far as to say that his Chinese-style outfit looked terrible. Seriously, who even says something like that?

“Why aren’t you even a little excited? Don’t people in Taiwan celebrate Lunar New Year too?” Tolya asked, noticing Nemo’s deadpan expression, even duller than usual.

“I’m not unhappy—just tired,” Nemo replied flatly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Sunny Jie and Boss both gave you red envelopes, didn’t they? I only got one,” Tolya asked, concerned. To boost morale, the staff had received their envelopes earlier in the day. He’d even noticed that Nemo’s envelope was stuffed thicker than anyone else’s.

“For what it’s worth, this is the first red envelope I’ve ever received. Not every Taiwanese person celebrates Lunar New Year,” Nemo said, smiling faintly as he pinned a completed order ticket onto the stack.

“Oh… I see.” Tolya suddenly recalled that Nemo had once mentioned there was no one waiting for him anywhere—no home or family to return to. That extended to this, too. It hit him belatedly.

“Don’t mention anything to Sunny Jie or the others,” Nemo added quietly.

“Don’t worry, I know better than that. Tonight, everyone’s supposed to be happy—including you,” Tolya said with a reassuring grin.

“I just want to go home, take a shower, and sleep,” Nemo muttered, his lips twitching into a half-smile.

Tolya gulped down a glass of orange juice and dashed back to the front, brimming with energy as he continued his cheerful antics.

A while later, a strange sensation crept over Nemo, making his hair stand on end. It was an instinctive reaction, like sensing something bad was about to happen.

“Sir, please allow me to show you to a seat! The kitchen is staff-only! The restroom isn’t this way!” Tolya’s booming voice and his attempts to stop someone echoed from the front. It sounded like trouble. Could it be a difficult customer? Nemo signaled for Lao Chen to take over the kitchen and prepared himself for a confrontation. No matter what, the orders couldn’t be delayed.

“Thanks. I’m here to see a friend, but I’ll order takeout later,” a deep male voice replied.

There was something familiar about the voice, but reality didn’t give him time to ponder it. In the next moment, a tall man in a trench coat and sunglasses pushed past the curtain separating the kitchen from the dining area. He slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, revealing a pair of predatory golden eyes.

“Happy New Year! Miss me?”

Nemo clenched his jaw, holding back the urge to drop an F-bomb.