“Tolya values his friends, so I hope you won’t betray him. Otherwise, I won’t let you off easily,” the Russian beauty said in a flat tone, making it clear she was simply stating a fact.
“I consider him a friend too,” Nemo replied.
“How has Tolya been lately?”
“Same as usual. You probably know better than I do. We’re busy with our own tasks at work, and after hours, I don’t keep track of where he goes. I have my own things to do,” Nemo said, neither arrogant nor servile.
The Russian beauty seemed satisfied with his answer. For once, she gave a smile free of menace. Extending a manicured finger out of the car door, she tapped lightly on the side of the vehicle.
The tall, burly man with long hair, who had been keeping an eye on the van, immediately tapped his companion. The group ended their conversation and walked toward Nemo.
Nemo naturally stepped aside to let them pass. After exchanging a few parting words with the Russian beauty, Tolya ducked under Nemo’s umbrella. Nemo had to lift the umbrella higher to shield him from the rain.
As the van drove away, the two picked up their groceries again and continued their spring outing ritual of walking back to the apartment.
Tolya seemed to feel the need to say something. He nudged Nemo’s elbow. The curly-haired young man tilted the edge of the umbrella and glanced at him sidelong.
The damp air and stray raindrops made Nemo’s hair look pitch black, further accentuating his pale complexion.
Even though Tolya knew his roommate always looked like a zombie in this weather and would appear much livelier indoors, he still felt guilty for dragging him outside for fresh air, only to end up giving him a secondhand smoke experience.
“The people you met today are core members of a gang,” Tolya began cautiously. “I forgot to mention, Veronika is actually their boss. But you can’t address her by name directly; she might just send a bullet your way. If you must, call her Miss Gromova. Still, it’s best not to talk to her at all—stay as far away as possible.”
After saying this, he carefully asked, “By the way, what did Veronika say to you?”
“Betrayal and trust.”
As soon as Tolya heard Nemo's tone, combined with Veronica's deliberate mention, he knew that his true whereabouts at the bar on the night Nemo returned to Lone Star City from Houston would no longer be a secret.
Freaked out? Perfect. Nemo couldn’t grasp why Tolya insisted on lying about even the smallest things. He could’ve easily skipped over the details, rather than making Nemo out to be petty and nosy. When faced with an unavoidable birthday party and a roommate with sudden amnesia, was it really necessary to explain how obvious the choice was? Should he really have to spell out that avoiding the tattooed, muscle-bound acquaintances was the better option over diving into trouble? Nemo had clearly told him on the phone that he could take the bus back on his own. Amnesia didn’t mean he’d forgotten how to function, for heaven’s sake.
“Miss Gromova is unmistakably a woman. Where exactly is she hiding something bigger than yours?” Nemo had no idea what kind of questionable websites Tolya frequented to concoct such a strange excuse.
“That would be the Beretta 92* she carries.”
Fair enough.
“Let this be a lesson for you: respect a woman’s consent before trying anything forceful.” Nemo coughed awkwardly, trying to cover up his failed deduction.
“Wrong! Veronica was the one trying to force herself on me,” Tolya said with a mix of grievance and indignation.
“Sorry, my bad.” Nemo realized he shouldn’t have assumed Russian men were inherently chauvinistic.
“I don’t like overly strange dynamics. After all, I’m a traditional man.”
“Spare me the details. I don’t want to know.” Nemo elbowed him hard in return, making Tolya yelp.
“Nemo, I was just worried that you might disappear again when I wasn’t around. I couldn’t be sure what details you’d remember or forget with this bout of amnesia. But in the past, you always knew my friends in Lone Star City were involved in shady dealings. I was afraid you’d lump me in with them and sneak away, even if you were sick or feverish.”
Hanging out at a bar might pass as a solo activity, but attending a birthday party involved mingling with an undefined social circle—a completely different context. Tolya knew all too well that his roommate had a brain that remained terrifyingly sharp, amnesia or not.
Nemo always gave off an elusive vibe. This seemingly harmless young Taiwanese man could jump ship from the friendship boat at any moment unless you built him an aircraft carrier, complete with a strike group. Since Tolya lacked the gold of a Roman Senate, he could only hope that time would restore the fragile camaraderie they had painstakingly built.
This time around, Tolya hadn’t told Nemo much about his social circle either. As for the occasional appearance of Russian gang members in their lives, Nemo’s reaction remained the same as before: as long as no harm was done, he respected Tolya’s freedom to choose his friends. After all, his roommate’s unusual connections did offer some protection for Westlake Restaurant.
“How did you come to know someone so dangerous?” Nemo seized the opportunity to press for answers.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Tolya hesitated before confessing, “Veronica and I have known each other since we were fifteen. We both lived in Moscow until I fled. We used to hang out a lot; you could say we were childhood friends.”
“Hmm.”
“Her father was a mid-level officer in the Wagner Group. Recently, the well-connected man left Wagner to start his own operation in the U.S. But he’s currently stuck in Africa, seizing gold mine territories. Lone Star City, with its port and mountains, is ideal for smuggling and stashing goods. Don’t be fooled by Veronica’s small crew—that’s just her testing the waters. Once the timing is right, she’ll have more reinforcements. She also hopes to prove herself to her father and take over Lone Star City’s turf,” Tolya divulged the information as Nemo had hoped.
“Got it.”
“That would lead to chaos. I don’t want you involved,” Tolya emphasized when he saw Nemo’s unbothered expression.
“What about you?” Nemo asked.
“Of course I don’t want to be involved. Isn’t that why I’m working so hard to distance myself? I want to get an American degree and find a practical job, like a nurse, pharmacist, or accountant. To do that, I need to work seriously and build a good credit history. I suspect Veronica and her group think that if they succeed, they’ll need trustworthy people with legitimate jobs, so they even offered to pay for my tuition. I told them you’re a scholar helping me learn both English and Chinese.”
"And if they fail, well, capitalism’s cutthroat competition is to blame—it’s all a result of class reproduction!” Tolya’d already crafted the perfect excuse to deflect responsibility.
"Sure, I can teach you Chinese and English every day, but you'll need to get used to writing and reading by hand," Nemo said.
"I think…alright, fine! But it has to be slow. I can't handle it if it's too intense right from the start," Tolya replied weakly.
Tolya disliked studying—or anything involving densely packed text. Even though he could understand English news, he preferred Nemo casually summarizing key points during work hours. Nemo also kept him updated on the details of the Russo-Ukrainian war. At least Nemo spoke clearly and tailored his explanations to Tolya's comprehension level. Tolya, for his part, found Nemo's peculiar accent while speaking English oddly charming—not as soft as his tone in Mandarin. (He hadn’t yet experienced his roommate cursing fluently in Taiwanese.) It carried the decisiveness of chopping vegetables or slicing meat.
Despite the pain of studying, Tolya was grateful for Nemo's offer to help strengthen his language skills. After all, he didn’t want to spend his life drifting aimlessly in a restaurant job.
In just one year, Tolya had become fluent in English, which showed he was a gifted learner. Nemo even suspected Tolya’s lingering accent was deliberate—an act to avoid standing out too much among other immigrants while maintaining ties to his Russian peers. The gang members Tolya mingled with were well aware of his talent, treating him as a potential investment while allowing him to hover on the fringes of their circle.
"By the way, gangland bloodshed is just a drizzle compared to what superhumans can do," Nemo snorted.
"You're not wrong," Tolya agreed. "The superhuman scene in Lone Star City is still unclear. Veronica keeps things low-key, wary of drawing too much attention. She’s afraid of some passing superhero casually taking her down, which would just benefit rival gangs." He nodded, as if echoing Nemo’s phrase: you need a big-picture perspective.
" Anatoly, don't think you've gotten away with it. What other secrets are you hiding about your dealings with the gang's boss lady? She practically asked me outright where you disappeared to instead of attending her birthday party," Nemo said, suddenly calling him by his full name. His cold tone made Tolya’s hair stand on end.
"She used to want to be my girlfriend, but I turned her down," Tolya confessed, stunned into blurting everything out. "Since we came to America, we sometimes meet for drinks. She has a boyfriend now—the guy with the long, unkempt hair who doesn’t hide his gun handle well. I’m trying to avoid trouble."
"So you didn’t date, but you’ve slept together?" Nemo asked, raising an eyebrow. Did Tolya think he was blind to his guilty little side glances?
"Only when we were both single! Cut me some slack; I’m a living, breathing man!"
Surrounded by people whose love lives seemed excessively harmonious, Nemo could only roll his eyes in exasperation and silently raise a middle finger.
※※※
Matthew, true to his word, inundated Nemo with daily updates on his life, ranging from meals and outfits to meeting minutes and interactions with important figures. Sometimes he grumbled about delayed experiments, the flood of junk proposals from the R&D department, or even asked Nemo for date location suggestions. He encouraged Nemo to share any wild online theories about fighting monsters, no matter how far-fetched they seemed.
The personal information revealed by the world's richest man was so extensive that Nemo could easily sell a bit of it to reporters and never worry about food or shelter. But Matthew knew very well that Nemo wouldn't do that, and Nemo also knew that it was simply because he didn't want to.
Surprisingly, the media frenzy wasn’t as intense as Nemo had anticipated. While moving Grimm Group’s headquarters to Lone Star City initially sparked a news storm, out-of-town journalists eventually moved on. Rotating assignments had limits, especially with countless superhero-related stories demanding attention across the U.S. Additionally, Grimm Group’s legal team rivaled that of Disn●y’s in strength.
Matthew had once said, "If you can’t beat them, hire them." So he did.
the Meteor Shower Event had quietly shifted some dynamics. Matthew Grimm’s survival and rebirth after falling from space, the devastating losses to his company and employees, and the tragedy that struck countless families had hardened his stance. He no longer tolerated baseless reporting. Consequently, Grimm-related gossip in Lone Star City was relatively muted. Local tabloids remained sensationalist, but their circulation wasn’t enough to cause a stir.
The prior wave of phenomenon-level gossip about Matthew Grimm now felt, in hindsight, like a nostalgic yearning for a "golden era." Reality had taught people that such days were gone for good. As more superheroes and villains emerged, they quickly claimed the spotlight, leaving little room for playboy antics. Interestingly, reports of Matthew Grimm sponsoring superheroes had been steadily increasing.
When it came to Matthew's sponsorships, Nemo was better informed than most. The billionaire never missed an opportunity to ask for his input, increasing Nemo’s stress levels. Accepting a consultant fee would only play into Matthew’s hands, binding him further, so Nemo steered clear of that trap.
Nemo didn’t vouch for the names on hero ranking lists—he barely knew these individuals’ true natures or abilities. Instead, he diplomatically suggested Matthew focus on supporting newcomers with crowd-control or healing abilities. These were vital assets often overlooked by the general public voting on such lists.
Tolya repeatedly checked to make sure Nemo's behind wasn't being targeted, and after Matthew Grimm, the billionaire, grew bored with his life and started seriously making new friends, Tolya laughed maniacally and told Nemo to enjoy himself. Meanwhile, Tolya continued his wild night of hitting bars and chasing girls—armed with handwritten assignments in both Chinese and English.
Life seemed to return to a superficial calm. The most noticeable change was the surge in delivery orders from Grimm Tower on the days when Nemo was on duty. Each order was sizable, making Nemo wonder if Matthew’s assistants would eventually develop an aversion to Chinese cuisine.Then again, considering their sky-high salaries and bonuses, Nemo figured they’d manage just fine.
Let the orders keep coming!
※※※
*The gun's body is 21.7 cm long.