When it was Tolya’s turn to return from the health check, the Russian still wore the same nonchalant expression, making it impossible to tell whether the outcome was good or bad.

“How is it?” During the afternoon break, the restaurant owners and Nemo remained in the shop to learn about Tolya’s health status as soon as possible.

“Oh, I might need surgery,” Tolya casually said, delivering a shocking statement.“I was injured before, and the doctor who treated me back then wasn’t very skilled. I’ve been feeling pain for years, and it turns out there were fragments of foreign objects left inside. After the health check, we found the cause. The main issue is the old injury. The Grimm Group has already arranged a surgery time for me, for free. Thanks to you, brother!” Tolya gave Nemo a bear hug, lifting him off the ground on purpose.

Nemo rolled his eyes in his arms. “Where are these fragments? In your head?”

“Haha, you really like to joke. It’s in my back and thigh. I thought as long as it didn’t kill me, the pain was bearable. It’s better to have it all fixed in one go,” Tolya said, lowering his roommate. Nemo immediately walked back to the kitchen to make roasted chicken wings for everyone.

In the past few days, the results of everyone's health checks came in one after another, and Westlake Restaurant could practically form a group of injured soldiers.

Late at night, the chef and delivery worker walked back to their shared apartment together. After washing up, they each went to their respective rooms. Nemo continued to surf the web, while Tolya, who had just returned from the hospital's health check, very consciously rested and didn’t go out to fool around.

Habitually taking a painkiller, the Russian turned off the lights and lay down on his bed, resting his hand behind his head and zoning out.

Thinking about finally saying goodbye to the pain that had plagued him for years, Tolya felt a sense of relief, but at the same time, he was upset because it was Matthew Grimm’s active efforts to please Nemo that had earned him this benefit.

Anyone with eyes could see that Matthew Grimm only truly wanted to treat Nemo. The issue was that Matthew had even stayed outside the hospital when The boss couple went for their checkup, which showed just how well Matthew understood Nemo’s weakness, and the results spoke for themselves.

In any case, Tolya genuinely hoped Nemo could get better. It certainly wasn’t a bad thing that the wealthy benefactor was willing to help.

What would happen when Nemo regained his memories? Would he still want to live the life he was leading now? The Russian wondered as he turned to his side, about to close his eyes and fall asleep. But then, he noticed a figure standing by the wall, blending almost seamlessly with the darkness.

“Ah—when did you start walking without making a sound?” Tolya jumped in shock.

The weak light from the streetlamp outside the window cast a dim, cold glow, outlining his roommate’s pale face. He wore a black fleece pajama set with a large golden :) smiley face on the chest, making him look even more terrifying.

Sleepwalking was one thing, but for heaven's sake, keep the knive out of it. Tolya had no intention of letting Nemo mistake him for a freshly docked bluefin tuna.

Tolya never locked his door. The reason being, he had installed a pull-up bar on the doorframe to work out daily. If he wanted to close it, he couldn’t. When Tolya wasn’t home, Nemo would also use the pull-up bar, and the Russian was more than happy to let him. He openly said that Nemo could freely use the gym equipment in his room, as his roommate’s scrawny physique could definitely use some more exercise.

“Nemo, still dreaming? Your room is on the other side,” Tolya said gently, thinking Nemo had walked into the wrong room after using the bathroom. But he suddenly realized something was wrong—they had just entered their rooms not long ago, and Nemo definitely didn’t go to sleep this early! It was all an illusion caused by the lights being turned off.

“The health check revealed foreign fragments in your body. Seems like your rhetorical skills aren’t too bad. Are those foreign objects called ‘bullets’?” Nemo articulated each word clearly, with every syllable hitting its target.

“Uh…”

“I want to see your scar.”

Bam! Right between the eyebrows.

“Isn’t that a little much? Just two men alone?” Tolya said, embarrassed.

“Take it off yourself, or I’ll help you? If I do it, I can’t guarantee your clothes will still be wearable afterward,” Nemo said, pressing the light switch.

The room immediately became fully visible. Tolya’s Taiwanese roommate had a blank expression, while the Russian hugged his pillow with a terrified look on his face. “Just a friendly reminder, don’t let me find out your gunshot wound is from within the last year.”

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Seeing there was no way to escape, Tolya reluctantly stood up, turned his back to Nemo, and pulled off his shirt, revealing a deep spinal groove and strong muscles. He had a physique that looked slim in clothes, but once exposed, his brutal, cold Northern aura emanated from his wolf-like body.

“There’s still the pants.” Nemo didn’t hesitate for a second.

“If you don't feel insecure about my size, I’ll take them off,” Tolya said, leaving only a pair of boxer shorts. He was about to turn around but was stopped by Nemo’s hand on his shoulder as he began checking his scars, leaving no part of his body unchecked.

“Done? You’re making me itchy.” Nemo’s gentle, meticulous touch sent shivers down Tolya’s spine, as if a sharp-toothed, clawed beast was pressing close to sniff the half-naked Russian.

In addition to the two round bullet scars on Tolya’s body, there were many more scars of varying lengths, like knife wounds and lacerations. But it was normal for him, considering his past conflicts with the police in Moscow, and the fact that he had illegally crossed from Argentina to the US-Mexico border. More scars, even a few more gunshot wounds, wouldn’t have been surprising.

When Nemo first met Tolya, he was being beaten up. He didn’t shout or curse; instead, he silently and fiercely swung his fists to fight back, though still outnumbered. It was when someone pulled a weapon that Nemo intervened, unable to stand by and watch.

Seeing that there were no new signs of injury, Nemo finally let go of his Russian roommate.

“Is it really necessary?” Tolya asked, a little startled as he quickly put his clothes back on.

"You've been shot, and you don't think it's a big deal? What's wrong with you? Hanging out with the mercenary group branch lady and thinking you're the boss now?" Nemo scolded.

“It’s not like you think. It’s a long story.” Tolya sat on the edge of the bed, patting the space next to him.

“Even if it’s long, you still need to explain,” Nemo said, sitting down next to him and pounding his fist onto Tolya’s old gunshot wound on his thigh.

The Russian roommate let out a small grunt. Was Nemo really concerned about his gunshot wound? Was he truly concerned, or was Tolya overthinking it? The way Nemo hit him hurt, and he’d have to take another painkiller later.

“I used to pretend to be gay online,” Tolya said suddenly.

“What the hell?”

“Before moving to Moscow, I grew up in the Siberian countryside. It was very remote, cold, and boring. There was only one boy around my age in the village, and we naturally became good friends. Then, when I was fifteen, my foster father passed away. Before he died, he arranged for someone to take care of me, and that’s how I ended up moving to Moscow. After that, we saw each other less and less, exchanging letters maybe once or twice every couple of months. At that time, the village didn’t even have internet. Can you imagine that, in the twenty-first century?”

“Hmm.” Nemo gave a soft grunt of acknowledgment.

“At twenty, the village finally got connected to the internet. We reconnected online and talked every day. Soon after, he decided to visit Moscow to meet some online friends, and asked if I could let him crash on my couch. How could I say no? I had missed him so much. Мой брат. (My brother.)” Tolya smiled faintly as he spoke.

“When he showed up in front of me, we hugged each other tightly, as if we hadn’t been apart for those five years. We celebrated with some drinks at my place, and I asked him who the lucky woman was. I got him drunk on vodka, and in the end, he couldn’t resist and hesitantly admitted it wasn’t a woman.”

“I remember your homeland is pretty conservative,” Nemo said.

“I told him that no matter who he liked, he was still my brother, and to be careful. He said the person treated him well, had a gentle personality. Gay people tend to gather in Moscow; at least it’s more open-minded than the countryside. He felt safe in the capital.”

“But my brother never came back. Three months later, his dismembered body was found in a drain behind an abandoned warehouse, thrown out with the trash,” Tolya said, putting his arm around Nemo’s shoulder, resting his head against his, as if he and his lost friend had once been this close.

“Gay hunting?” Nemo asked, referring to the extreme homophobic individuals who disguise themselves online as being interested in the same sex, only to lure targets in and then subject them to violence. It was why Tolya had reacted so strongly when Matthew made friends with Nemo. He feared the nightmare might repeat itself.

“The victim was gay, and the police didn’t take the case seriously. They even thought that a freak who liked playing with his ass deserved to die. The family was embarrassed and just wanted to move on quickly, handling the funeral hastily before returning to Siberia. They looked at me like I was the same kind of pervert,” Tolya said.

Tolya’s story somehow ignited a strange, unfamiliar fury in Nemo, making him feel the same intense anger and resentment that Tolya had felt back then. It was as if his former self was speaking through him, imploring Nemo to finish what had been left unfinished.

“I begged Veronika to use her connections to secretly find a hacker to investigate my childhood friend’s account. Sure enough, we found clues the police had missed. Through deleted private chat logs, we identified the killer, who was also in Moscow—a middle-class old bastard. I handed the chat records to the police, but they said the victim had been messing around with who knows how many men online. This information couldn’t be used as evidence of murder.”

The only reason Tolya was sure it was the same person was because he had heard that nickname from his drunk friend, and there was no mistake about it.

Sadly, there was no more evidence. The killer had a wife and kids, and a respectable job.

“So, I went online to tempt him, a lonely, inexperienced blonde boy. Sounds great, right? I met him at a secluded location he’d chosen. After all, ‘people like us’ have to keep our love a secret from the public eye. I brought a knife, but he brought a gun.” Tolya lowered his voice, rubbing his head against Nemo’s temple. “Isn’t fate really fucking cruel? Luckily, I managed to escape, and that bastard quickly moved away, disappearing. Veronika got scolded by her dad and couldn’t help me anymore.”

Nemo didn’t know what to say. He could only sit quietly next to his Russian roommate.

“Tolya, if someone did this to my friend, my reaction would be the same as yours, and I’m sure I’d succeed,” Nemo said, sensing something just now—a vague realization that he didn’t have an absolute moral barrier against killing. In fact, there was a slight possibility he had already acted on those impulses in a previous life.

“How come you don’t trust American law more than I do?” Tolya chuckled, taking advantage of Nemo’s sympathy and messing up his curly hair even more. “Please don’t act impulsively. I don’t want to see you end up in prison and get deported, no matter where that is.”

It was all in the past, Tolya said, as if to let it go.