"Although it’s thanks to the financial power and influence of the Grimm Group that you found the amnesiac me, don’t you think it’s a bit too much for you to personally get involved?" Nemo felt they were making a big deal out of nothing.
"Maybe it’s because that person doesn’t have many friends," Matthew replied.
"They’re already a superhero; they should make more new friends, expand their horizons, and broaden their list of people to call for help." Nemo said, meeting Matthew's disdainful gaze.
"Before criticizing others, maybe you should reflect on yourself first, Mr. Captain," Matthew retorted.
"I’m not a super—hero," Nemo emphasized the last two words deliberately.
Matthew knew that Nemo’s stubbornness couldn’t be changed overnight. To get him to agree to the negotiation terms, he could only thank his own genius and hard work.
"Anyway, if you have awakened your superpowers, that person hopes that I, as their sponsor, can help you grow quickly. They long to fight alongside their past teammate again and entrust their back to someone they can trust. If you’re still just a mortal, then I’ll watch over you more carefully. Who knows, you might awaken someday?" Matthew opened his palms, gesturing as if weighing something.
"My intuition isn’t wrong. Someone who is valued by that person like you can’t stay ordinary forever, and I, of course, hope more reliable heroes will join my side. Training from scratch is no problem, but surviving is the hard part. You must understand, heroes are very lonely. One wrong step and they’ll be swallowed by the abyss. Increasing the number of companions and providing shelter is one of the few things I can do for them," Matthew explained.
"I understand your concerns," Nemo said.
It was truly only someone as brilliant as Matthew, the world’s richest man, who could relentlessly pursue such a simple but nearly impossible goal.
Behind Matthew’s seemingly ridiculous actions lay such selfless motives. Nemo wondered if he should start treating the billionaire a little better in the future. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice his chin being unexpectedly pinched, his face being tilted up by a strong hand, and suddenly, he was looking into Matthew’s smiling, handsome face.
"Forgot to mention, your real age should be thirty, but you don’t look it at all!"
No matter how hard Matthew looked, he still thought that the young chef’s face, by American standards, could get carded in a bar. Of course, he knew that East Asians tended to look younger, but Nemo didn’t tan himself to a wheat color, didn’t smile much, and had curly hair with striking black-and-white eyes. His attitude of not wanting to interact with anyone made him look not just youthful, but childishly aloof. It was an amazing form of camouflage.
"So I’m five years older than my ID says? Fine," Nemo replied, his fingers wrapping around Matthew's thumb and the palm of his hand, twisting it gently outward, locking the joint and then bending it downwards.
"Fack!" Matthew yelled, almost kneeling. Luckily, his quick reflexes allowed him to relax his body and escape the hold in time.
"Aikido?" The golden-eyed man asked.
So fierce, so painful, so merciless. Nemo had truly intended to break his wrist!
For someone at a disadvantage in size, joint locks like this needed to be executed with a certain level of force to affect strong opponents like Matthew. The judgment was correct, though perhaps a little lacking in humanity.
"Muscle reflex, I guess? I didn’t even know I could do that," Nemo lied, keeping his eyes open. Of course, he remembered learning a few tricks from mixed martial arts, especially the techniques that worked against opponents weighing 80 or 90 kilograms. While neither of them were black belts, they could still engage in some amateur-level sparring.
However, this body surprisingly executed the moves from his memory smoothly, and to his surprise, even more effectively than he had expected. Nemo was a little shocked. Perhaps his superpower didn’t have some dramatic trigger or flashy effects. It had probably been lying dormant all along, barely noticeable but subtly sensing his breathing.
But right now, Nemo still had some ways to go before mastering balance, like learning to ride a bike without falling.
"So, what should I do about training my superpowers?" Since a transaction involves give and take, and Matthew had kept his promise, Nemo knew he had to reciprocate.
"I want you to come to headquarters for regular checkups and treatment whenever you feel unwell, because this might not just be a simple illness or injury—it could be related to your ability changes. Even if it’s a straightforward physiological issue, we can help you recover in the most efficient way possible. And when I’m training, you can join me. This way, you’ll keep your privacy, and I can conveniently teach you some basic combat skills. Just show up. I know you’re not a fan of trouble," Matthew said.
Matthew had finally found the key: Nemo didn’t care about the world’s richest man’s status, but compared to strangers, he was more willing to let someone he knew get close.
Nemo was an extremely shy guy—Matthew's ex-girlfriend from Taiwan, Angie, was able to quickly get along with him simply because they shared the same homeland and spoke his native language, showing just how much of an outsider Nemo was!
"Aren’t you afraid I’ll accidentally poke a hole in you?" Nemo asked.
"This is the psychological barrier you need to overcome first," Matthew said. "Besides, when it comes to newly awakened superhumans, none of the measurement instruments or programs are as accurate as my direct observation, especially when it comes to you, Nemo."
Matthew had nothing to hide—he wanted to observe Nemo closely, as he was a case that required special care.
"Also, I've always been the best researcher. There's no way I'm letting someone worse than me take your first time—AH!" Matthew cried out in pain.
"Watch your language, Mr. Grimm," Nemo replied.
"Of course, if you could watch your feet a bit more closely, Mr. Captain," Matthew countered, flashing his signature elegant smile, though he knew his toes were in agony.
"I’ll lend you a cool private car, so when you come in and out of the Grimm Tower, people won’t mistake you for my driver or chauffeur. You can park my car at different safe houses, whether you want to stay there or switch vehicles and head home. The system in the car will alert me if you’re being followed. If that happens, I’ll teach you how to shake off a tail, and we’ll treat it as combat practice," Matthew said.
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"Okay," Nemo responded.
"Once your physical abilities and weapon skills improve, I hope you can team up with Angie and practice field combat. Of course, this depends on whether you’re willing to tell her you’re a superhuman. Right now, there’s no better teammate for you than her, and you’re the best choice for her growth and mental stability," Matthew explained.
Nemo didn’t hesitate too long before nodding. "I can tell Angie, but I want to see my progress first before saying anything to her. After all, we agreed to team up, and if we can make that happen sooner, she’ll be really surprised."
"You should start thinking about your signature attack style. If your current weapons don’t meet your needs, come talk to me, and I’ll help you develop specialized ones. These things take time to test and refine, so the sooner we start, the better," Matthew advised.
"Mm."
"Now, about the uniform and codename..." Matthew trailed off.
"We’ll talk about that later." Nemo emphasized his point with an icy, unwavering gaze.
Matthew frowned in frustration. "When Angie asks about your role or when other heroes discover your existence, how am I supposed to introduce you?"
"Just tell the truth. I’m one of the few people you can trust. You help me with my physical training and combat skills, and I occasionally act as your driver, bodyguard, and personal chef, to keep you from getting kidnapped, poisoned, or run over by a car again. As for Angie, I’ll explain things to her myself. She doesn’t need to hear it from you," Nemo answered without hesitation.
The flawless logic of this response was quite exasperating. The wealthy benefactor secretly swore that one day, he would make Nemo submit, wearing a form-fitting superhero costume and wielding a weapon designed by Matthew himself, then call in a pack of bloodthirsty media to capture it all in photos.
"About that vigilante... What do you think?" Matthew asked.
"If I were a vigilante who killed people—lots of people—and my powers were the type that could be hidden, unlike Angie’s, I’d definitely keep it a secret!" Nemo answered without a second thought.
"Of course." Matthew sighed.
"This isn’t a superhero movie where we have to show off special effects and close-ups for the audience. Whether you can hide nine out of ten abilities or six out of ten, there are benefits to both. Even if only one bullet out of ten is invisible, it’s still a lethal advantage," Nemo said seriously.
"So you think that vigilante has superpowers?" Matthew asked with renewed interest.
"No, I should say, in this era, you can’t assume any opponent doesn’t have superpowers," Nemo replied, giving Matthew a pointed glance. "Do you have superpowers?"
Nemo really liked asking these heart-stopping questions out of nowhere.
"I prefer to be called the owner of 'fuck powers,'" Matthew said, swaying his hips.
A terrible attempt at deflecting the topic. It seemed Matthew intentionally tried to turn the conversation around, and he was happy to get a verbal jab in at Nemo. In front of the young chef, the world's richest man’s status never seemed that high—What happened to that whole “I’m so amazing” vibe he had?
Although if Nemo weren’t so antisocial, Matthew probably wouldn’t be so eager to gain his trust and recognition. When Matthew had first taken on that person’s request, he had thought of it as a charitable service, never expecting it to lead to the biggest challenge of his life.
At first, the billionaire thought, "If that person can do it, so can I," adopting a competitive mindset, but soon, his ex-girlfriend had surpassed him. Was this really fair, God? Matthew could never have predicted Nemo’s reactions or preferences.
As for Nemo, he was thinking that it was normal for Matthew not to answer a question that involved vital privacy. After all, for someone who had survived the meteor shower and the space station, answering "no" would be too fake, and answering "yes" would be too hard to explain. Vague answers were the perfect way for a shady businessman like Matthew to handle the situation.
But given how Matthew Grimm excelled at making money and acquiring land, Nemo couldn’t help but suspect that he might have some sort of ability like precognition or mind-reading, and that he might have already gathered compromising information on political leaders from all over the world, flipping through it every day for his amusement.
"Can you show me all the monster dissection data you’ve collected so far, especially the research on the neuro-muscular system?" Nemo suddenly asked, as if it were a casual afterthought. "If there’s anything I don’t understand, I’ll ask you."
"Are you planning to fight enemies larger than the East Coast monsters with your tiny human body?" Matthew laughed, amused.
"Not necessarily, but you said I’m an all-around support character, so I might as well give it a try!" Nemo’s last sentence contained an arrogance he wasn’t even aware of, but Matthew noticed it immediately.
"I’m used to fighting bosses with a huge size difference in games," Nemo added nonchalantly.
"Your mindset as a gamer is indeed unique, but I like it," Matthew remarked.
"Classified data can’t be taken out with you, but if you want to see it, come to the headquarters. I’ll give you a special identity chip. You’ll be able to access the data in my office, and you can even bypass the roads and go straight through the primitive forest defense system. But if you’re with Angie, your security privileges will drop to her level. If you enter the territory and are surrounded by other heroes, the chip will trigger an alarm and notify me. I’ll then decide what extent of access I’ll grant. If I can’t respond, you’ll have to assume those are enemies, and if you can’t take them down, distance yourself as quickly as possible."
"Got it. Your territory still has a lot of challenges before it’s fully developed, right?" Nemo understood that Matthew had relocated his base of operations too recently.
"Which is why now is the perfect time for you to play around. After that, you’ll need strength to get through the defense systems. I’m still waiting to adjust weapons and equipment based on how superhumans perform in field tests," Matthew said.
"Is the antidote research still progressing?" Nemo suddenly asked.
"Of course."
"Suppose the New Orleans swamp factory has already produced effective 'byproducts,' and that’s exactly what the vigilante is after. He might head to similar experimental factories next. Just imagine—a single venomous shot could take out a superhuman. If that doesn’t work, two shots will do the trick."
"You used to run battle simulations or war games with your teammates, didn’t you? That’s a good habit. I guess you usually played as the Red side?" Matthew asked.
Actually, it was the opposite. Before migrating, in the game world, Nemo often found himself defending, counterattacking, and losing in situations where he was at a disadvantage. He could say that his losses had taught him which dirty tricks were most effective.
"I like playing the Red side now," Nemo responded. "Finding the enemy's weak points, breaking through their psychological defenses, observing the weaknesses they try to hide, and testing their limits. If the enemy tries to incite public sentiment, I’ll fight back even harder. Patriotism is the strongest drug."
"Mm?" Matthew raised an eyebrow.
"I’m not Leviathan, but there are many 'monsters' that Leviathan and Salamander can’t eat, and I can eat quite a few of them," Nemo said, making a throat-slitting gesture.
Matthew’s golden eyes darkened, gleaming with a predatory light, and he gave a pleased smile.
"I really hope you grow quickly, because your designated meals have already chewed through my leg, and it’s becoming unbearable."
"I’ll pray that the guy playing the maggot expert is a genuinely enthusiastic person. It’ll make things simpler. Frankly, I welcome him continuing to punish scum like that, but I don’t appreciate his methods of dragging innocent people into it. The Beelzebub files reek of self-promotion," Nemo remarked.
"Nemo, do you hate that guy? Tell me why," Matthew asked.
"Just because someone’s a hopeless victim doesn’t mean they’re dead. Even if they only have one second left to live, I still want to listen to those voices and help. So, that explosion wasn’t mercy; it was arrogance. There might even be a bit of a silencing motive behind it," Nemo answered.
"If the victim clearly wanted to end their life, and couldn’t even speak?"
"If they confirmed it one by one, and expressed even a glance or any subtle body language like 'I want to die,' 'Kill me quickly,' 'Revenge on the killers,' 'Burn it all down,' I’d retract my judgment," Nemo replied without hesitation.
"On the other hand, if there were mixed signals like 'I don’t want to die' or 'Please save me,' you wouldn’t be able to forgive them?" Matthew asked.
"Exactly. The only superhuman who could meet my standards in a short amount of time is probably Michael. But even he couldn’t solve all the cases in one go, especially those human crimes that, theoretically, the state should be handling," Matthew explained.
"I don’t think Michael has any obligation to deal with those matters. Superhumans without law enforcement authority shouldn’t be concerned with catching criminals, unless they’re kind enough to get caught up in the details. The real challenge is for American society and the government. This is a battle that should belong to the public authorities. Though reality is truly awful, I don’t think heroes should be responsible for it," Nemo said, never expecting heroes to show up in time, especially not before his migration.
" Angie suddenly canceled all her modeling work for the week. I’m worried Beelzebub’s files will give her an eating disorder. Instead of her, let me hug you, then pass that hug to her," Matthew said, opening his arms.
Nemo stared at the billionaire’s chest for a long time before reluctantly walking into his embrace.
"Has the private base in the forest been finished? A wooden house should be up soon, right? Even if it’s just a rough shell, it doesn’t matter. I want to take Angie there for a few days, but it’s still not far enough from the New Orleans swamp factory. I’ll head over once I’ve got Tolya on the operating table," Nemo said.
" There are still two days left to catch up on work, more than enough time. Don’t worry about your roommate’s surgery. I’ll have security personnel make sure he can’t leave early. Your training will have to wait until your hand heals," Matthew said, pulling the curly-haired youth into a tight hug and holding him for a long moment before spinning him around and letting go.
"You need to comfort girls the way I do—show enough enthusiasm but not too much ambiguity," Matthew said, as if an expert on the matter.
Nemo didn’t feel any ambiguity—he just felt the urge to kill.
"The Swamp Factory incident wasn’t my order, and no one asked her to take action. Salamander, like any hero you’re familiar with, reacted naturally when she sensed there were parasites in the vehicle and immediately traced the line to it. I realized when she left Lone Star City, I could only stop her from entering that building and told her to stay in place and wait for reinforcements," Matthew explained, having promised to let Salamander rest and protect Angie from any official pressure. But the downside of letting a new hero live independently was that trouble could happen at any time.
"I know. She told me about it. I can’t scold her for being brave but reckless, though I really want to," Nemo muttered.
"At times like these, nothing’s better than a hug, especially for reserved Taiwanese like you," Matthew said, finally getting one thing right.