"Please don’t do that. Otherwise, I'll show the bruises to the reporters and say they're love marks from my new girlfriend!"

Nemo’s veins popped on the back of his hand. Matthew felt a phantom pain spreading across his own body. It seemed amnesia hadn’t dulled Nemo's ruthless streak in the slightest.

"Even the ones on your butt?" Nemo sneered coldly.

"I was thinking of hosting a pool party to celebrate moving on from heartbreak. Maybe this time, Matthew Grimm will push boundaries and wear a Speedo?" the billionaire declared with heroic boldness.

Nemo immediately reflected deeply—when it came to shamelessness, he stood no chance against this guy.

"What exactly do you want?" Nemo growled through gritted teeth.

"At the very least, let me use my medical resources to thoroughly examine and treat your injuries and amnesia. Dragging this out will only lead to bigger problems down the road. Even for a friend of a friend, I’m happy to help. Money's no object; it's a small matter for me."

That’s it? Nemo looked at the world’s richest man like he was an idiot. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be a genius too?

If Matthew had simply handed over his business card and directly said, “Hello, my friend knows you. Can I take you to see a doctor to treat your amnesia?” Nemo might have had his suspicions, but he would’ve agreed. After all, the reality was that Nemo was injured, had amnesia, and couldn’t afford a detailed check-up, let alone hope for a full recovery. He’d been dragging things out, settling for just being able to function in daily life.

"If you're willing to cover a high-level health check for the entire staff at Westlake Restaurant," Nemo said begrudgingly.

"Great, Nemo! I like your straightforwardness," Matthew clapped his hands. Finally, his objective was achieved, and in less time than expected. Was this what the Chinese called a blessing in disguise?

Nemo stared at him with a piercing gaze, making Matthew squirm uncomfortably.

"What’s with that look?" Matthew asked nervously. Surely, Nemo wasn’t still thinking about hitting him? As long as it wasn’t in the face, Matthew figured he’d have to put up with it.

Nemo was pondering the "incident" a month ago during a camping trip when Matthew had been “kidnapped.” The injuries and hypothermia Matthew had sustained were real—not fatal, but undoubtedly unpleasant. So, did the gang of kidnappers he mentioned even exist?

If they didn’t, then Matthew Grimm was truly an Oscar-worthy actor and a massive weirdo. If he had been kidnapped, then miraculously escaped, and just so happened to find Nemo nearby, stripped himself down, and injured himself—that level of coincidence was hard to believe. Besides, how would he have known from a distance that Nemo was there?

The most reasonable theory was that Matthew had already been rescued by his security team, who reported Nemo's proximity. Matthew, seizing the opportunity, concocted the perfect scenario to force Nemo into owing him a favor. But to go so far as to ruin his own image—it was beyond Nemo’s imagination. Back then, Nemo believed Matthew more than he doubted him, simply because Matthew’s disheveled appearance had exceeded the limits of what any normal human would do.

There was still a nagging sense of something off...

"So, that day, were you really kidnapped and stripped?"

"Absolutely! Truer than gold bars from the Federal Reserve!"

Yeah, right. Like hell I believe you! Nemo realized he’d fallen for such a twisted act and had even secretly worried about Matthew.

In the end, Nemo decided to stay for the vacation. The reason? As the host, it didn’t make sense for Matthew to leave on the first day he moved into his new home. Calling a helicopter to send Nemo away not only increased his carbon footprint, but the money saved could probably buy enough sandwiches to feed countless homeless people.

It wasn’t that the Grimm Group didn’t already support street charities; Matthew was their top donor. He just wanted to remind Nemo that unnecessary waste could be avoided. With Nemo’s usual two-day breaks, Matthew could easily fly him back to Grimm Tower by helicopter on the third morning and then drive him to work on time.

Nemo, however, was thinking, This guy is definitely a Democrat. Another major sin!

As Matthew had suggested, there was no reason to refuse a free villa on the lake. But cooking? Absolutely not! Nemo was content to starve until he could snack on fruit or other raw foods.

Seeing his new friend still angry, Matthew quickly lit the fireplace to drive out the dampness in the new house. He then reluctantly pulled out some eggs and steak. At least he could manage to cook these two items. Always leave a way out—that lesson was paying off now. Well done, Matthew!

Matthew dared not cook Nemo's portion. First, it would be showing off in front of an expert. Second, the odds of Nemo appreciating it were slim. Matthew suddenly realized that, as a chef, Nemo probably hated food waste. If Matthew cooked something Nemo wouldn’t eat, the figurative weight on his heart would grow by a few hundred grams (specifically, a 12-ounce premium Angus sirloin and some free-range organic eggs).

Nemo returned from the study with a stack of books, settled on the couch, and began silently flipping through them, one page at a time. The oppressive low-pressure center in the living room succeeded in giving Matthew indigestion. The billionaire could only pull out his laptop and pretend to be busy—though, to be fair, he was actually busy.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

As the sun set and the moon rose, Nemo still hadn’t said a word to Matthew.

It was Matthew’s first time being given the cold shoulder by a "friend," and the experience was… novel! Uncomfortably novel. His stomach felt like it was tied in knots. Someone as unapologetically blunt as Nemo was something Matthew had never encountered in his entire life!

Come to think of it, could male friends be pacified the same way as girlfriends? Both were humans, so there should be some overlap in tactics, right?

"I'm sorry, okay? I was wrong! Feel free to stay mad, but could you please eat something?" Matthew, ever the experimenter, sprang into action.

"I'm on vacation. I’ll eat and sleep whenever I feel like it," Nemo replied coolly, but his entire demeanor, down to the tips of his hair, radiated "Leave me alone" with intense fury.

Terrifying. Matthew felt that one more word from him, and Nemo might actually grab the fire poker and swing it at him.

"Any room in this new villa is yours to choose, even the master bedroom. The wine cellar? Help yourself. Try whatever you like! Just relax, my friend! I won’t bother you anymore! Haha… hahaha…" As his laugh grew smaller, Matthew retreated into the study, where he buried himself in his mountain of work to escape reality.

Until ten o’clock at night, the world’s richest man dared to sneak out to find some antacids. He figured that Nemo, upset and hungry, must have gone to bed early. The only question was which guest room he had chosen—though there were cameras, this time Matthew didn’t dare check. Maybe Nemo had even opted for the master bedroom to make a point.

Tiptoeing up to the attic surgery room, Matthew found the antacids in the home medicine stash and swallowed one. Back on the second floor, he began checking guest rooms to see if the doors were locked from the inside, but every single door opened without resistance. The master bedroom, then?

Calling a helicopter to send Nemo home right away wasn’t entirely out of the question, but Matthew had a feeling that would only make things worse. It would paint him as a spoiled rich kid, unable to handle a little tension and unwilling to own up to his mistakes. That would only complicate the fragile bond they were trying to build.

No matter how arrogant Master Grimm appeared in the eyes of the world, there was one undeniable fact: Matthew was indeed a giant in theory. The next time he encountered the same landmine, he would think about how to defuse it rather than stepping on it again. There were no options for bypassing it; the world’s richest man was just that stubborn! But for now, he still stood in the minefield, and Matthew refused to admit that he was slightly trembling.

Lost in thought, Matthew descended to the first floor, where he noticed the master bedroom door slightly ajar. Knowing Nemo’s temperament, if he had chosen that room, he definitely would’ve locked the door. Acting on impulse, Matthew pushed the door open and found the bed undisturbed, just as he suspected.

His mind shifted gears as he grabbed a neatly folded blanket from the bed and headed toward the living room.

Sure enough, Nemo was curled up in the armchair by the fireplace, dressed in sleepwear after a shower. The curly-haired young man had tucked in his hands and feet, squeezing himself into the chair and sleeping awkwardly.

Nemo hadn’t brought any luggage, which meant whether he stayed or not was entirely up to Matthew’s arrangement. Of course, Matthew had prepared silk pajamas and a high-end travel kit for him, but the "bomb" had gone off before he even got a chance to bring them out.

The guest rooms, outfitted for use at any moment, had standard cotton pajamas in generic male and female sizes. Matthew, expecting his guests to be the exceptionally fit types akin to superheroes, had unknowingly provided Nemo with oversized sleepwear. The loose fit left his wrists and ankles exposed, making him more susceptible to the cold.

Matthew gently draped the blanket over Nemo, ensuring it covered him fully while keeping a safe distance from the fireplace. He then adjusted the logs to rekindle the dwindling flames.

Touching Nemo’s eyelid lightly, Matthew felt the faint tremor that indicated REM sleep. Nemo was curled up in a strong defensive posture, his fingers gripping his pajama fabric tightly, his jaw clenched. Silent. Not even muttering in his sleep.

It couldn’t be a happy dream, Matthew thought.

“Nemo Captain, the answer to your third and final question is, of course, a good man—scarred, broken, and loyal unto death.”

※※※

The following evening, Nemo’s anger finally started to subside. Steering a small boat like a lone seagull on the vast mountain lake turned out to be surprisingly therapeutic. Nemo steamed the two fat trout Matthew had caught, leaving one on the dining table while taking the other to the dock outside. There, he ate it while moon-gazing.

This, Matthew decided, was evidence of forgiveness. Yes, that was it. Brimming with joy, he dug into his dinner.

The Chinese spices Matthew had thoughtfully planted in the herb patch outside had come in handy. Though he wasn’t familiar with the ginger-and-scallion aroma, the trout was steamed to melt-in-your-mouth perfection, bursting with freshness and flavor. The light seasoning made it irresistible, soothing his stomach, which had been acting up all day.

Matthew considered going to say a few words to Nemo but figured it would only sour his mood. Over the past month of frequent correspondence, Matthew had glimpsed a bit of Nemo’s true nature. What he hadn’t expected was Nemo’s patience for lying in wait.

Choosing the moment when Matthew was least prepared, Nemo had struck, even positioning himself at Matthew’s blind spot. Or rather, Nemo had simply lounged comfortably while watching Matthew make a fool of himself. It struck Matthew that his pen pal might possess the psychological profile of a serial killer, skilled at mental pressure.

What Matthew didn’t know was that Nemo’s most-played online game characters were rogues and ninjas. Ambushing and backstabbing were second nature to him, which made the young chef’s actions seem a bit unfairly judged.

After obediently washing the dishes, Matthew sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

It felt like feeding a large, feral cat. Exhausting and frustrating, yet incredibly satisfying in the moment of success! Maybe he should catch a few more trout, freeze them, and let Nemo take them home as a souvenir. The lake trout here was undeniably delicious!

That night, Nemo once again slept in the armchair by the fireplace, this time bringing the guest room blanket. Matthew finally confirmed that Nemo wasn’t sleeping there to sulk—he simply liked the warm, cozy glow of the fire!

This time, the sleeping Nemo looked more relaxed, his expression serene, his posture stretched out. Perhaps getting angry was truly draining for him, or maybe Matthew’s fireplace possessed some kind of magic. Whatever the case, when Matthew approached to check on him, Nemo remained undisturbed.

Here’s hoping my new friend can dream warm, happy dreams tonight. Matthew clasped his hands in prayer to the fireplace gods, smiled, and retreated to the master bedroom to sleep.

On the third morning, the helicopter returned them to Grimm Tower. Matthew personally drove Nemo back to his apartment, showering him with kind words and impeccable manners. As Nemo got out of the car, Matthew hesitantly asked, “Nemo, see you later?”

“See you, Matthew,” Nemo replied, waving without looking back.

Leaning back in the driver’s seat, Matthew decided he’d treat his next girlfriend much better. Compared to Nemo, every one of his exes was practically an angel!