《Kill Steal Man》 Kill Steal Man Vol.1 Prologue Kill Steal Man / βµ¶‚b Vol.1 Prologue Flight 817 of StarX Budget Airlines was this year¡¯s most popular direct route between Taiwan and the United States. A curly-haired, medium-height young man sat slumped in his cramped seat. His clean, fair Asian face was covered with a red sleep mask printed with two wide-awake cartoon eyes. Though it looked like he was asleep, he was actually savoring the highlights of his recent trip. This trip to Texas brought so many wonderful memories. He finally met, in person, the American guildmates he¡¯d known for ten years through World of Warcraft. He also managed to introduce them to Nobunaga¡¯s Ambition, an obscure Japanese online game suffering from a dwindling player base. The game, released twenty years ago, ended up mesmerizing these Texans completely. To Americans, Chinese and Japanese were more or less the same. Meanwhile, Taiwan¡¯s server for Nobunaga had fewer than 200 active players, most of whom were overtaken by Chinese gamers. As a Taiwanese gamer, it was his duty to do something. After all, he had ten accounts¡ªno need to thanks. Now, things were looking up. He could form an international team, train new characters, and create two squads of seven to dominate the Nobunaga wars, avenging his years of defeat. The game¡¯s population was so sparse that even the top three factions barely fought each other. With fourteen people on the field, the entire war could be overturned. Thinking back to the golden days when war horns blared before each skirmish, students skipped classes, adults called in sick, and players from middle schoolers to forty-year-olds charged into battle on horseback¡ªit still brought a smile to his face. Ah, youth! Now, the game¡¯s official hours capped battles at midnight and only reopened at 8 a.m.¡ªnot friendly to daytime workers at all! But for someone recently unemployed, that no longer posed a problem. Three days after Taiwan¡¯s presidential election, he would fully dedicate himself (as a ¡°guest general¡± in this turn-based game, similar to holding dual citizenship) to every battle his old nemeses participated in. With a command system in place, his Texan friends would follow his orders on keyboard and mouse, leaving him free to enjoy his favorite pastime¡ªsniping and stealing kills. He had already trained his guildmates face-to-face. They were hardcore role-players with a penchant for PvP, so technical skills weren¡¯t an issue. After all, WoW¡¯s PvP was far more brutal. The moment those Texans learned they could beat up Chinese players online, these Republican enthusiasts got excited, promising to raid dungeons while fighting in the Nobunaga wars. Over the past two years, due to the population imbalance among factions in the game, every battle would see their NPC leader getting decapitated within five minutes, granting the enemy a massive score boost. Despite relentless struggles, the situation would continue to deteriorate. In about an hour and a half, their entire territory would be taken over. Trapped in the spawn area, unable to step outside, there was no PvP to be had¡ªit was pure "PPPPPPPVP." Since the game¡¯s beta twenty years ago, he¡¯d never switched factions. From a middle school student to a jaded underpaid worker, he¡¯d spent his life on losing battles. But he knew that switching to the enemy would mean the game was truly over. Some automated wars were so empty that NPC generals fought each other with no players present. Who were those battles even for? The battlefield¡¯s anonymous status was practically meaningless for him and his old rivals¡ªit was as if they were completely exposed. His opponents had similar principles, but with the advantage of numbers, they were even more shameless. When it came to loyalty to the game, he was willing to respect his enemies for their dedication, which only made his urge to rack up kills even stronger.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Nationality wasn¡¯t really an issue. The enemy side didn¡¯t have more Taiwanese players, nor did his own faction have fewer Chinese players. He felt a strange affection for the Chinese gamers who paid to join Taiwan¡¯s server. That¡¯s why he dragged his American friends into these battles¡ªif the servers died, no one would be the winner. Nobunaga¡¯s Ambition had been in decline for over a decade. When the servers merged into one, he moved on to WoW, swearing fealty to King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind. Even after Varian¡¯s heroic death and his son¡¯s ascension to the throne, he never stopped paying for Nobunaga. He didn¡¯t do it to chase after glory but to keep the game¡ªand the memories¡ªalive. During the Taiwanese server era, he never stayed long in any alliance or guild, and his friends list was barely a handful. Perhaps subconsciously, he didn¡¯t want his memories of Nobunaga''s Ambition to fade away. He would only join random groups when he needed gear or honor points, while his main focus was on storylines, achievements, and gathering or crafting. After the decline of the Taiwanese servers for World of Warcraft, the curly-haired young man unexpectedly discovered a player interaction on one of the U.S. servers that reminded him of the dynamics in Nobunaga''s Ambition. For years, those vibrant memories had still faded. Now he admitted to himself that he didn¡¯t particularly love games¡ªhe just wanted a place to belong. Old players always came back once in a while, so who would be there to call out their names and retell their stories? It was almost laughable¡ªat 35, he had never even owned a passport. Most of his income, after covering health insurance, social security, online gaming, and daily expenses, went straight into an emergency fund. He wasn¡¯t some paragon of justice, just someone who liked having a small escape route for those moments when he couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Two weeks ago, tensions flared due to the Russia-Ukraine war and Taiwan¡¯s upcoming presidential election. The curly-haired young man finally exploded at his exploitative restaurant boss, who constantly forced him to work overtime. ¡°Garbage isn¡¯t exclusive to blue or green? Please. Trash comes in every color. Spare me your talk of ¡®mutual understanding.¡¯ I might¡¯ve only served a year in the military, but I¡¯ve paid every cent of my taxes¡ªI don¡¯t owe the government a thing! For me, true Taiwanese independence means breaking away from the Republic of China. How many actual ¡®Taiwanese¡¯ were part of the ROC¡¯s constitutional assembly? I wouldn¡¯t know. Did they outnumber the so-called ¡®Taiwanese representatives¡¯ in the CCP¡¯s National People¡¯s Congress today? Doubt it. Back then, Taiwan was under Japanese rule, and during the ROC¡¯s constitutional convention, 9.2% of the attendees were CCP representatives. Should we tear out 50 pages of their constitution and mail them back to Beijing?¡± ¡°Carrying an ROC ID card is a courtesy to your government. What does that have to do with China? And the whole ¡®one culture, one people¡¯ nonsense¡ªhere in Taiwan, I can¡¯t even understand Hakka or Indigenous languages. And, boss, when are you going to learn Vietnamese? Your wife already speaks Taiwanese!¡± After years of bottling it up, he finally let loose. Watching his exploitative, Blue-leaning boss¡ªwho spent his days spitting germs and spewing idiotic political hot takes in the kitchen¡ªgape in stunned silence gave the curly-haired man a deep sense of satisfaction. He couldn¡¯t stand it when people, unable to win an argument, resorted to accusing him of being ¡°pro-Green.¡± To him, branding him as part of the Green camp was just a sneaky way of undermining advocates for Taiwan¡¯s legal independence. Boil it down, and it was nothing short of psychological warfare. Did they think the few hardcore extremists were just for show? He wasn¡¯t afraid of failure; he had long grown used to being defeated. As long as his comrades were still willing to fight and they still had their own territory¡ªa small patch of land, a ceiling in an apartment where he didn¡¯t have to bow his head¡ªit made him happier than any major victory ever could. With just a click of a mouse, he could join the dominant faction in an online game. No one would stop him from renouncing his Republic of China citizenship, and the Taiwan Strait wasn¡¯t exactly walled off. It¡¯s just that, historically, more people swam toward the Pacific. Otherwise, where did the Austronesian people come from? That day, he threw his apron to the ground and left. He might not have a superhero uniform under it, but at that moment, his soul soared into the stratosphere. With encouragement from his American guildmates, he impulsively applied for a passport, booked a discounted flight on a budget airline suffering from PR woes, and traveled to Texas. There, he wowed his friends by disassembling a rifle in seconds¡ªa skill learned during his military days. At the airport, his middle-aged World of Warcraft guildmates cried as they bid him farewell. His ¡°citizen diplomacy¡± was a huge success. Too many memories¡ªold and new. He dozed off in his seat, only to be jolted awake by violent turbulence. The plane shook. Oxygen masks dangled from the ceiling. Amid screams and crying children, he felt strangely calm and sleepy. Had he died already? Was this a heart attack? Was everything he¡¯d remembered just the proverbial ¡°life flashing before his eyes¡±? ¡°Hope the pilot lands safely. If not, someone can at least sing ¡®Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep¡¯ for me¡­¡± he murmured. Darkness fell. Kill Steal Man Vol.1 chapter.1 Part.1 Opening his eyes, the curly-haired young man found himself back in the lobby of Houston Airport. Was the plane crash he just experienced all a nightmare? His suitcase was nowhere to be found, and both his ticket and passport had disappeared. Had he been drugged and robbed? Something felt off. On the constantly changing flight display board, not a single flight was heading to TPE (Taipei). No, that wasn¡¯t it. There was an intense sense of unease that had been nagging him since he woke up, like an itch he couldn¡¯t scratch, a desperate need to scream and vent. What was his name? He suddenly realized a terrifying blank space in his mind¡ªhe had no recollection of what he had been wearing five minutes ago. A worn sand-colored flight jacket, with a tear on the right sleeve! A military green chest bag, a black sports t-shirt, and knee-ripped jeans. On his feet were a pair of cheap, black-and-blue striped sneakers, nothing special compared to the tourists around him. December in Houston was pleasant¡ªby American standards, at least. The temperature at night was in the single digits, and he felt a chill creeping through him. His limbs were stiff. As a native of Taiwan, even now, the terrifying memory of being dominated by the brutal cold wave in 2016 lingers. Back then, the temperature had barely been five degrees Celsius. Anyway, there¡¯s a kind of cold that only people from Taiwan understand¡ªbelow fifteen degrees, we¡¯re freezing. If he really had flown from Taiwan to Texas in winter to meet up with his guildmates, he would¡¯ve definitely worn a waterproof, windproof jacket and a down vest. Moreover, he hadn¡¯t worn jeans in at least ten years! At home, he wore pajamas, sports pants when he went out, and uniforms for work. Without any dress code restrictions, he would just throw on a pair of casual trousers for easy movement. ¡°Excuse me, where¡¯s the bathroom?¡± he casually stopped a passerby and asked. After getting directions, he hurried off, barely sparing a thought for the missing documents or tickets. At this point, he urgently wanted to check his appearance. Was this real, or was it a dream? Worse, was he awake but not quite all there? The time displayed in the lobby was December 29, 2027. Had he somehow traveled nearly four years into the future? He rushed to the bathroom sink, leaning in close to the mirror. ¡°Is this really me?¡± He was surprised. Not only had he not aged into his forties, he looked a little younger than when he last shaved¡ªmore like a 32-year-old than a 35-year-old. This face was definitely his own. This definitely isn¡¯t a case of the body traveling to a future world. The problem was, was he in the future, or had he entered a parallel world? His physical age had reversed, which proved that the timeline here was different from the Earth he knew. ¡°Right! My phone!¡± He pulled out his tablet phone from his chest pocket, instinctively flipping it over to examine the brand. It wasn¡¯t the usual Apple with a chipped corner. Instead, there was a three-pronged crown logo? ¡°W? Wayne Enterprises?¡± He couldn¡¯t help but mutter, remembering just the other day how he had killed time flipping through superhero comics at a friend''s place. Of course, the vast business empire from the dark knight didn''t control the American smartphone market of 2027. The curly-haired young man¡¯s crown phone was from a Finnish budget brand called "VV" known for being shockproof, waterproof, and having a long battery life. It was a lot like Nokia, beloved by illegal immigrants and gang members. Later, he learned that while Apple was still dominant, Nokia had completely disappeared. He wasn¡¯t an Apple fan. His HTC phone was enough to deal with the boss, and its main function was as an alarm clock. He relied more on his desktop for browsing the internet. Not locked¡ªthank goodness! Another one of his habits. The phone¡¯s memory was empty, with only landscape and stray cat photos. There was no need to worry about security. He was about to search for his current identity in the phone when an incoming call startled him, almost causing him to drop the device, he gripped it tightly and took a deep breath. The caller ID read ¡°Waiter and Delivery Guy.¡± That was funny. Another version of himself. ¡°Nemo? Damn, were you abducted by aliens? Boss said he¡¯ll hang your head on the back door.¡± He flipped through missed calls and ten consecutive murder messages in simplified Chinese. The sender was ¡°Manager¡±. What kind of code name was that among assassins? It seemed his alternate self was called Nemo. Well, that saved him the trouble of picking a fake name.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! ¡°I think I¡¯ve lost my memory. I don¡¯t know where I should go.¡± Fortunately, he had read enough novels to be prepared with the right script. ¡°Old injury acting up?¡± ¡°My head hurts a bit, especially the back of my skull, but the sides hurt too.¡± That was the truth. ¡°Who from the store came to the US without getting their head smashed by a police baton? You should¡¯ve told me earlier! If boss had found someone to cover for you, he¡¯d have given you a couple more days off!¡± ¡°I just woke up a little while ago.¡± ¡°Good grief!¡± A sympathetic sigh came from the other end of the phone, followed by the sound of distant voices discussing. ¡°I told boss about your condition. He wants you to go home and sleep immediately. You¡¯ll work tomorrow. Hey, whatever you do, don¡¯t quit. I still need you to help pay rent! Hang in there, roommate! I¡¯ve sent you the apartment address. I checked the bus schedule for you. Do you have cash ?¡± The serious tone on the other end of the phone sounded as if even if he were a vampire, he¡¯d still have to split the rent. Fine, a single penny can crush even the bravest of men. He pulled some green bills out of his chest bag. ¡°Yes, I have enough for the bus. I¡¯ve got a lot to figure out. I¡¯ll check the internet on the bus. See you later.¡± ¡°Boss called his wife over to help. I¡¯ll go to the bar later to have a drink, hoping a kind girl will comfort my broken soul. Don¡¯t worry about me. Go rest at the apartment! Maybe a good sleep will fix everything! The spare key is in the shoe outside the door. There¡¯s a bunch of painkillers on my table, take some if you want. Honestly, I hope I don¡¯t have to go home tonight!¡± ¡°Uh, thanks.¡± The casual tone from his roommate gave the curly-haired young man the feeling that this person had problems far worse than amnesia¡ªlike rent, living expenses, painkillers scattered all over the table, or even a potential insect invasion. Maybe sexual frustration too? Nevertheless, nice roommate still seemed to think hitting the bar was more important than facing his amnesiac coworker. When the call ended, he realized the entire conversation had been in English. The roommate¡¯s thick accent was clearly not from a native speaker, but certainly not from Taiwan or China. Maybe Russia? Summarizing the current clues: His name is Nemo, and he works as a chef at a Chinese restaurant in the suburbs of Lone Star City (does such a place exist on the U.S. map?). The shared apartment mentioned by his roommate is about five blocks away from the restaurant. Business hours are from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m., but the chef have to start working by 10 a.m. to prepare meals, with a break in the afternoon. Having just crossed over into this world, Nemo finds himself with an established identity, a job, and a friendly roommate. Even his boss, despite his sharp tongue, seems to have a soft heart. As cynical as Nemo is, he can''t help but agree that fate does occasionally have its kinder moments. While waiting for the bus to arrive, Nemo continues browsing his phone and is pleasantly surprised to find that his parallel-world counterpart has made progress¡ªhis VV smartphone can access the internet without relying on the free Wi-Fi at the bus station. Still, to save data, he opts to use the free Wi-Fi first. The urgent task now is to investigate the eastern city where he''s headed, a place whose name never appeared in history books, movies, or American comics¡ªa completely unknown location. Lone Star City sits between Texas and Louisiana but belongs to neither. It covers about 600 square kilometers¡ªroughly two-thirds the size of Taoyuan City¡ªand has a population approaching two million. It borders the Gulf of Mexico, featuring a medium-sized cargo port and a private airport. A large river to the west serves as a natural boundary with Texas. Lone Star City derives its name from the surrounding coastal mountain range, where five peaks connect to form a star-like shape, leaving the city geographically isolated. It is connected to the outside world through east-west highways and boasts lush subtropical vegetation. The warm, humid Gulf winds are trapped by the mountains, making Lone Star City perpetually rainy and misty. Developed later than New Orleans, it¡¯s often referred to as a dry version of New Orleans, with fewer swamps and more stretches of pristine forest. "A city that appeared out of nowhere in a parallel world, it can¡¯t possibly be normal." Nemo mutters as he runs his finger over Google Maps, zooming in on details. The street views look impressively prosperous. Lone Star City is America¡¯s largest independent city, but accustomed to the crowdedness of Taiwan, Nemo struggles to grasp its scale, imagining it as somewhere between Taoyuan and Taichung. "Since I¡¯m here, I might as well settle in. What other choice do I have? The cold, damp winter probably feels just like Taipei!" Right now, he desperately needs a warm room and a bed. The bus still hasn¡¯t arrived, so Nemo resumes his search about his homeland. Before the 2024 Taiwanese presidential election, Taiwan and the U.S. seemed inseparable, yet four years later, even flights had stopped. How could he get back for a visit? The search engine bombards him with smoky, blood-soaked images, discussions on social media still raging. Nemo stares at the screen, his fingers clenching unconsciously. In June 2027¡ªjust six months ago¡ªthe Taiwan Strait War erupted. Nemo massages his temples, feeling hollow inside. He stifles the urge to retch, holding back a dry gag. So far, the biggest divergence in this parallel world¡¯s timeline is that the Russia-Ukraine war was delayed until February 2027. In May of the same year, Earth was struck by a mysterious meteor shower that NASA hadn¡¯t predicted. Strange, highly magnetic objects appeared suddenly in Earth¡¯s orbit, exploded, and crashed down. At the same time, abnormal solar flares triggered a global electromagnetic pulse attack. Facing the sun, the United States was hit hardest, while subsequent solar storms, though weakened, continued to wreak havoc. This immense catastrophe is recorded in history as the Meteor Shower Event. Rumors spread that the meteorites carried cosmic bacteria, which would trigger an incurable plague. In June, Western intelligence agencies speculated that the Chinese leader had likely perished during the Meteor Shower Event. A body double seemed to maintain appearances, but behind the scenes, factions fought fiercely for control. Amidst disaster relief and suppression of domestic uprisings, the PLA unexpectedly launched an attack on Taiwan, and missiles flew back and forth across the strait. However, the United States failed to fulfill its promises to Taiwan. In the first week, first month, and second month of the Taiwan Strait War, the U.S. was absent¡ªnot entirely unhelpful, but far from the savior Taiwan had imagined. the Meteor Shower Event left America on edge, declaring a state of national emergency while managing massive domestic relief efforts and stabilizing its plunging currency. Allied nations focused inward, seemingly hiding the strange side effects of the meteors. As a result, the PLA successfully landed and crushed resistance forces in Taiwan. What to do with these defiant locals to achieve the historic dream of unifying Taiwan? The Chinese government finally realized that adhering to the concept of Taiwan Province kept them trapped in the framework of the Republic of China. Taiwan would keep stalling until U.S.-Japan-Australia forces regrouped and launched a counterattack. Meanwhile, India was seizing territory in South Tibet, and a Crimea-style fake referendum was out of the question¡ªacknowledging Taiwan as a nation first would contradict their unification logic. With Chinese leadership incapacitated during the Meteor Shower Event, power was shared among political factions and victorious military leaders. Fearing further delays, they pressured Taiwan¡¯s president to sign a peace agreement, declaring the Republic of China an illegitimate regime. Taiwan¡¯s ruling DPP president and cabinet resigned en masse. The benefits? Taiwan became a new autonomous region of China. China promised to urgently amend its constitution to guarantee Taiwan¡¯s rights. Taiwan would be recognized as a single ethnic group, the Taiwanese Tribe. Referencing the One Country, Two Systems model, Taiwan retained its existing military and defensive weapons, with elections for a new governor and local government. For five years, tax revenues wouldn¡¯t be submitted to Beijing, but Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC) had to set up factories in China and prioritize trade with the motherland. The peace agreement would be formally signed once China¡¯s constitutional amendments were complete. Nemo muttered to himself as he read, " It seems like China''s ass has really been poked painfully by India." Kill Steal Man Vol.1 chapter.1 Part.2 ÖЇøÒѽ›ÓÐÁË×ÔÖÎÖÝÖÆ¶È£¬Ê¡éLºÍÊ¡¼‰îIŒ§Æ½¼‰¡£ÔÚ¼¤ÁÒµĄ̈º£‘ð ŽÖУ¬Öй²Ãã�ŠÖƶ¨ÁĘ̈ž³½yÒ»ÅɺÍС·Û¼t¶¼ÄܽÓÊܵĄÙÀû—l¼þ¡£Ö»ÓЇø¼Ò×Ô¼ºÖªµÀËüé]éTÔì܇µ½µ×“pʧÁ˶àÉÙ¡£ According to analyses by international military experts and retired U.S. generals, one-third of Taiwan¡¯s air and naval forces successfully relocated to Japan and the Philippines to preserve combat power. The Taiwanese military expended nearly all its missiles, inflicting unprecedented damage¡ªfar beyond previous war simulations¡ªon China¡¯s coastal military bases and civilian industries. Unlike the slow-moving frontlines of the Russia-Ukraine war, Taiwan¡¯s military initially attacked like a rabid dog, biting furiously at the PLA. Even though Taiwan could not prevent the PLA from establishing a beachhead, the CCP was clearly shaken. The island had stockpiled a staggering amount of weapons, and the surrounding first-island-chain nations¡ªhome to U.S. bases¡ªhad yet to be drawn into the conflict. Taiwan¡¯s foreign exchange reserves still ranked fourth globally. ¡°Fxxk off, Taiwan!¡± In addition to intercepting Taiwan¡¯s diverse missile strikes, China¡¯s Rocket Force received orders to fully defend Beijing, yet again exemplifying their ¡°To have one''s cake and eat it too¡± approach. Between offense and defense, missile stockpiles rapidly depleted (as nations worldwide acknowledged China''s relatively low missile interception rates). Unfortunately, Taiwan''s army suffered heavy losses under the PLA''s human wave tactics. At this point, independence movements erupted in Inner Mongolia. It was unclear who was inciting these external forces, but Russia had abruptly refused to trade energy and food in RMB. After being burned by Indian rupees, Russia found itself with near-worthless currency and no choice but to wallpaper its walls with it. During the Meteor Shower Event, Russia suffered greater losses than China. Member states of the CSTO refused to cover the costs of the Russia-Ukraine war, and China delayed delivering promised military resources to Russia. Meanwhile, neither Russia nor North Korea wanted to meddle in the Taiwan Strait war. China refused to disclose casualty figures. U.S. estimates suggested that PLA deaths were five times higher than those of Taiwan¡¯s military. Ten Chinese submarines mysteriously sank in the southwest waters of Taiwan. Citing wartime emergency measures, China returned to a planned economy, with no end to restrictions in sight. In reality, after two months of combat, neither side could continue the Taiwan Strait war. The Kennedy Post reported that the U.S. sent secret emissaries to warn China: if they did not cease hostilities, the Seventh Fleet¡ªreturning to Guam¡ªhad already repositioned to the Second Island Chain. Together with nuclear attack submarines, they would sink three Chinese aircraft carriers within 24 hours (excluding the Liaoning, which was undergoing dry-dock repairs), destroy all bases in the South China Sea, and, alongside India, form a coalition to liberate Tibet. Incidentally, Swiss banks had already frozen the accounts of Russia-Ukraine war blacklists, with China¡¯s war accounts next in line. Thus, the Taiwan Strait Peace Agreement emerged at lightning speed, with all CCP generals advocating continued warfare suddenly silenced. Under immense public pressure to avoid further military and civilian casualties, Taiwan¡¯s government reluctantly accepted the CCP¡¯s ceasefire terms. The president urged the Taiwanese people to face this ¡°new reality¡± peacefully and rationally¡ªan outcome both unexpected and inevitable, marking the true end of the Republic of China. Amid a ceasefire window lasting about half a year, under the PLA¡¯s watchful eye, Taiwan conducted chaotic gubernatorial elections. The Democratic Progressive Party¡¯s candidates were absent or withdrew following assassination attempts, paving the way for the Kuomintang to claim governance. Mass emigration ensued as Taiwanese citizens fled abroad, prompting nations worldwide to accept refugees. ¡°In this parallel world, it¡¯s not that the U.S. didn¡¯t want to intervene. They prioritized defending their own country first¡­ Taiwan did its best. In the future, independence might be a real possibility, but we can¡¯t rely on rhetoric alone,¡± Nemo said, covering his eyes with his hand and smiling bitterly. Every nation worthy of inclusion in world history¡ªno matter its size¡ªundergoes a similar metamorphosis. Only after a people have fought and bled for their identity can they truly yearn for a name of their own. China now resembled a paper lantern hanging over a bonfire. While it had nominally succeeded in occupying Taiwan, the so-called ¡°World¡¯s Third Military Power¡± followed the same trajectory as the ¡°World¡¯s Second,¡± its weaknesses laid bare for all¡ªincluding the Taiwanese¡ªto see. A war between the third and thirteenth military powers had ended in near-parity. It was like discovering that the mayoral election in New Taipei City had been lost by only 30,000 votes. A loss is still a loss¡ªbut knowing the margin had been that small, someone wouldn¡¯t have overthought it and scared themselves. The resurgence of war in the Taiwan Strait was only a matter of time. Taiwan had ¡°graduated¡± from the Republic of China, tasted total war, and shed its reverence for its anthem, flag, and constitution. Having fought once, the temptation to gamble for recovery was human nature. Taiwan had earned international capital for its defiance and now only awaited a new dealer to start the game. This explained why all Taiwan-U.S. flights had been suspended. Now an autonomous Chinese prefecture, Taiwan strictly controlled immigration and emigration. Former ROC citizens had their green passports cut at customs, replaced with Taiwan Resident Permits. As for Nemo, who had stumbled into this world, he suspected his real body was still trapped mid-plane crash. And in this parallel Taiwan, his home likely no longer existed. Hunching against the cold with his hands stuffed in his pockets, Nemo waited at the bus station for an hour. A fellow passenger noted they were lucky to leave thirty minutes earlier than usual. Nemo fell silent as the station attendant frowned at the bus bound for Lone Star City, as if it were headed for a graveyard.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Finally catching the bus his roommate had directed him to, he now felt the stream of snot trickling down his face. His temples throbbed, his exposed neck stung from the cold wind, hands and feet icy, and his forehead faintly burning. That illusory hammer, which had been pounding at his head since he woke up, was now hitting harder than ever. ¡ù¡ù¡ù The next morning, birds chirped and hopped outside the window as brilliant sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the silhouette of a figure buried under two layers of blankets. The pale face hidden beneath sweaty, messy hair scrunched up in discomfort. With a whoosh, he pulled the blanket higher and curled deeper into his cocoon, but his peace was short-lived. A large hand gripped Nemo''s shoulder, shaking him deliberately, refusing to let him rest. "Don''t be so cute. Get up and eat something before you take medicine. You''re sick. The weather''s great today¡ªthis has to be our lucky day!" The voice carried a strong Russian accent, though the tone was unmistakably American English. Nemo was an adult. He only threw tantrums when he was absolutely certain no one would find out. From last night until now, he had been furious¡ªangry at this damned time travel, at losing his comfort zone, at his aching body, and even at the fact that he had been late, missing a war he was supposed to attend. Nemo flung off the blanket and sat up, squinting warily at his parallel-world roommate. The sunlight plated the Russian¡¯s slightly dark blond hair with a brilliant glow, and the backlight made his eye sockets look like two black holes. His facial features, sharp and commanding, seemed like they belonged to someone chosen for the Red Square military parade. Having heard him mention Moscow over the phone, Nemo was certain this man came from a good family. Russia certainly had its share of black hair and Asian faces, but you can imagine what kind of social status a Central or South American appearance holds in American stereotypes... Grabbing his phone, Nemo checked the time¡ª10:30 AM! ¡°Damn it! I¡¯m late for work!¡± he exclaimed, jumping out of bed. "Whoa, calm down!" The lanky Russian quickly pinned down the feral patient back onto the bed. "I left a message for Boss in the middle of the night, telling him you were sick. He said to take the day off and that he¡¯d find someone to cover your shift. You¡¯d better not spread your germs to the customers. A chef coughing and sneezing in the back? If a customer hears and reports us to the health bureau, we¡¯ll be out of a job." "Why are you still here?" According to the information Nemo had, this guy was his coworker too. "I¡¯m on the night shift today. I brought back porridge from the restaurant yesterday and heated it up for you. I heard Asians hate taking medicine on an empty stomach." The natural way his roommate acted left Nemo momentarily dazed. Last night, he had searched his roommate''s room to confirm that the guy wasn¡¯t using drugs¡ªor at least wasn¡¯t hiding any. The painkillers were, in fact, just painkillers. After a shower and swallowing a pill, he had gone straight to bed, not remembering if he had locked the door. Perhaps his roommate''s wide-open, brightly-lit room made him let his guard down in his muddled state. Nemo took two sips of the porridge offered by the Russian, a gesture of reluctant goodwill. After all, he was now an amnesiac patient. He could do as he pleased. ¡°How about your kind girl?¡± The Russian wiped his face dramatically. "Things were going great when we got to the restroom, but then she pulled out something bigger than mine. I had to politely buy her another drink and excuse myself to come take care of my sick roommate." Was this an attempt to make him lower his guard by telling a self-deprecating story? The Russian seemed one step away from pleading, ¡°Don¡¯t bite me! Oh, you¡¯ve got sharp teeth. If you must bite, do it gently, please!¡± Nemo took another sip of the porridge. His twisted stomach indeed felt a little better. ¡°I thought you¡¯d remembered your real name and run to the airport trying to get back to Taiwan. It¡¯s not a safe place for you right now. Besides, there¡¯s no way to get there directly. Taiwan and the US aren¡¯t connected anymore. You¡¯d have to go through Japan or Shanghai to wait for a visa, and that¡¯s expensive. Even if you managed to reach Taiwan, they¡¯d think you were an American spy and you¡¯d disappear.¡± The Russian sat at the edge of the bed, looking over at him and casually delivering this sharp assessment of Nemo. ¡°I dreamed about some things¡­ like how I cut ties with my family after graduating high school. I haven¡¯t been in contact with them for years. There¡¯s no place or person that needs me to go back.¡± The curly-haired young man looked down, speaking half-truths. The Russian visibly relaxed, his tense shoulders loosening as he let out a breath of relief before winking at Nemo. Nemo quickly spotted a card next to his pillow and snatched it up for inspection. It had his photo and, more importantly, the thing he desperately needed to survive in America. ¡°How did you know where my Social Security card was?¡± Nemo had searched his own room thoroughly last night but hadn¡¯t even found a single hair! The Russian looked innocent. "You told me to keep it safe, for moments just like this. I put it in the expired blue tea can. If you didn¡¯t know that, then you¡¯ve really lost your memory. Someone has to know where to quickly grab your ID when needed." The original Nemo had been thoughtful and cautious¡ªgood habits. But now, he had serious issues with one particular line on the card. DOB: 06-06-02 ¡°Fxxk! Since when was I born in the 2000s?¡± That would make this Nemo only 25 years old! Definitely not information he would have provided willingly. ¡°ÄãÒÔžéÄãŽ×šqÁË£¿¡±¶íÁ_˹ÈËðˆÓÐÅdȤµØ†–¡£ ¡°ÎÒÈýÊ®ÎåšqÁË£¡¡± ¡°¹þ¹þ¹þ£¡¡±ËûÊÒÓѵķ´‘ª·Ç³£Õ\Œ�¡£ ¡°Äãµ½µ×ЦʲüN£¿¡± ¡°ÎÒÔø½›‰ôÏëß^×Ô¼ºÊ®°ËšqµÄ•rºò¡ª¡ª½^Œ¦ÊÇÒ»‚€Ó¢¿¡µÄÄêÝpÈË¡£¡± ÄáĪҧ¾oÑÀÑÀ¡£ ¡¸ÀÏé›ÕÒµ½ÄãÁË£¬ÉíÉÏ›]ާÉí·Ö×C¡£ÓÉì¶Äゃ¶¼ÊÇ�†ÖÞÈË£¬ËûÕJžéÄゃ„‚�Ä´óŒW®…˜I£¬�K¿¶¿®µØˆó¸æÄゃ¶þÊ®ËÄšq¡£ÉúÈÕ£¿ÍêÈ«»¯ŠyÁË¡£ËùÒÔ£¬Äã×îºÃ³ÐÕJ×Ô¼ºÒѽ›¶þÊ®ÎåšqÁË¡£ß@˜Ó£¬Äã¾ÍÓÀßhÊÇÎҵĵܵÜÁË¡£¶íÁ_˹ÈËÅeÆðÁ˶þÊ®°Ë¸ùÊÖÖ¸¡£ ¡¸ÎÒ±»ÎÒ‚ƒÀÏ´ó°l¬FÁË£¿ß@ÒâÎ¶ÖøÊ²üN£¿ï@È»£¬Ëû‚ƒÒѽ›Á•‘TÁËÅcʧ‘›µÄÄáĪ´ò½»µÀ¡£Œ¦Ëû‚ƒ�íÕf£¬Ëû²»¿ÆŒWµÄ•régÂÃÐÐÖ»²»ß^ÊÇÄX“p‚û»¼ÕßµÄÁíÒ»Ì죿 ¡°µÈÄã³ÔÍêËŽÎÒÔÙ¸æÔVÄã¡£¡± ¶íÁ_˹ÈËÉµÐ¦ÖøÌá³öÁË—l¼þ¡£ÄáĪÃôäJµØÔ]Òâµ½ÄÐÈËË{É«µÄÑÛíøÖÐéWß^Ò»½z‘nôd¡£¶íÁ_˹ÈËëp±Û½»²æ£¬Ä¬Ä¬µØÐû·QËû²»•þÍ×…f¡£ ¸ÐÊܵ½ÊÒÓÑÕæÐĵÄêPÐÄ£¬ÄáĪàÖ¹¾ÁËÒ»¾ä£¬È»áá¹Ô¹ÔµØ³ÔÆðÁËÖà¡£ƒ�¹ÜºÜðI£¬Ëû…s›]ÓÐθ¿Ú£¬Ö»ÄÜÂýÂýÍÌÏÂÈ¥¡£ ¶íÁ_˹ÈË×øÔÚ¸½½ü£¬Ð¡ÐÄÒíÒíµØÓ^²ìÅP´²²»ÆðµÄÄÐÈ˵ÄÒ»ÅeÒ»„Ó¡£ ¡¸×î½ü£¬ÄゃºÜ¶àëyÃñͬ°û¶¼±»°²ÖÃÔÚ¹ÂÐdzǣ¬žéÆÚÒ»ÄêµÄÓ^²ìÆÚ¡£ÀÏ雲»È±Á®ƒr„ÚÁ¦¡£ÄãҪСÐÄ£¬²»Òª±»È¡´ú¡£ÊÒÓÑëS¿ÚÑa³äµÀ¡£ ¡¸ÖªµÀÁË¡£¡¹ÄáĪÝp•»Ø´ð¡£ ¿Õšâ׃µÃÄýÖØ£¬ŒÀÞÎÏñΛÏ�Ò»˜ÓÅÀÉσɂ€È˵ļ¹×µ¡£ ¶íÁ_˹ÈËÇåÁËÇåɤ×Ó£¬Õf£º¡¸Äã¿ÉÄܲ»ÖªµÀÎÒµÄÈ«Ãû¡£Äã߀ӛµÃÄã½ÐÎÒʲüN†á£¿ß@ÊÇÒ»‚€Ìáʾ¡ª¡ªÒÔ¡°T¡±é_î^¡£ T¡­ß@¿ÉÄܲ»Êdz£Òеġ¸–|Ä᡹¡£ÄáĪ̧Æðî^£¬œØÅ¯Á÷ßMËûµÄÐØ¿Ú£¬¼¡ÈâÓ›‘›µÍ•¸æÔVËûß@ÊÇÒ»‚€ÖµµÃÐÅÙ‡µÄÈË¡£ÔÚÊÒÓÑÆÚ´ýµÄ±íÇéºÍÕF�ˆµÄ×ìÐεÄÕTŒ§Ï£¬ËûµÄÉàî^½Y½Y°Í°ÍµØ»Ö�ÍÁËÊìϤµÄÁ•‘T¡£ ¡°T¡­¡­§´§à§Ý§ñ£¿¡± ¡¸žõÀ­£¡ÄãÕæÊÇ‚€ÕZÑÔÌì²Å£¡ ¡°¶øÄã…s¹ÊÒâ½µµÍß@‚€·¿égµÄƽ¾ùÖÇÉÌ¡£¡± ¡¸ºÇºÇ£¡ÄãץסÎÒÁË£¡ ³ÔÍêËŽáᣬÄáβÁµô×ì´½ÉϵÄË®·Ö£¬¿¿ÔÚ´²î^°åÉÏ£¬±íÇ鯽ìo¶øˆÔÒã¡£ ¡¸²»ÓÃÔÙÍÏÁË¡£�í°É¡ª¡ªÎÒÏëÖªµÀÒ»ÇС£ Kill Steal Man Vol.1 chapter.1 Part.3 The blond Russian youth made an upward climbing gesture. "After leaving Moscow, I first flew to Argentina¡ªthankfully visa-free¡ªthen traveled north, enduring countless hardships to reach the US-Mexico border. At the time, I was the only Russian who couldn¡¯t speak English. A few South Americans deliberately beat me up, but you were the only one who stepped in to help. You, I, and the boss pooled our money to hire the same immigration lawyer, rented a place together, and prepared for our asylum interviews. You shared a lot about the truths that can¡¯t be seen in Russia or China and explained how to talk to the free and democratic camp, making it easier for the immigration officers to believe us.¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ added, ¡°When we first met, you were really miserable¡ªlike a stray cat beaten into a rag. You stared off into space all day, but when you were lucid, you were quite chatty." The restaurant manager had picked up an unconscious, injured Nemo in the jungle along the border, assuming he was a lost companion attempting to cross illegally. Out of solidarity and compassion for a fellow traveler, he dragged the unlucky kid into the land of the free. After waking up, the curly-haired young man had total amnesia and couldn¡¯t answer any questions about his identity, yet his English was exceptionally fluent. The manager figured he must¡¯ve at least had a college degree back home, lamenting the misfortune, and decided to give him a helping hand. Nemo nudged his roommate to first introduce The manager¡ªthe man who had saved his life. After all, he owed him a great deal and would rely on him for work. His own story could wait. "When your injuries weren¡¯t healed yet, you couldn¡¯t remember boss¡¯s name. In the shelter, you just called him ¡®Hey.¡¯ Now, it¡¯s like you¡¯re deliberately only calling him ¡®Boss¡¯, his name is ¡®Lu Chui qiu¡¯ or something?" The manager''s Chinese name is so hard to pronounce that it turns into something tragic in a Russian¡¯s mouth. "Forget it. I¡¯ll ask him myself," Nemo replied, looking defeated. "Boss named you after a character from 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. He used to make a living writing web novels in China. But then, somehow, some content offended the authorities, and his competitors reported him. He got sentenced to ten years, and on top of that, spent an extra eight months in a black jail for no good reason. When he finally got out, he was a completely hardened man.¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ skillfully pulled up photos of the restaurant manager and his wife on his phone¡ªa routine part of helping Nemo rebuild his memories. In the photo, a burly, angry-looking middle-aged man stood with his arms crossed and legs apart, wearing a tight white T-shirt and jeans. His round belly looked about six months pregnant. He stared straight at the camera with pursed lips, standing by a large window. Beside him, a petite, cheerful woman looped her arms around his elbows. The two appeared to be quite intimate. The man¡¯s square jaw, heavy features, and gray-tinted, upward-spiked short hair made him look older than his actual forty years¡ªlike he could burst into singing The Battle of Red Cliffs at any moment. "Boss thought you were from the South at first because you speak softly. Sunny Jie.*¡ªboss¡¯s wife¡ªis Taiwanese. She immigrated to the US after her divorce. She swears your accent, word choices, and subconscious habits scream Taiwan. Even when you got burned in the kitchen, you¡¯d shout ¡®Gan!¡¯¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ proudly shouted the expletive with a perfect Taiwanese accent, flashing a white-toothed grin. "Sunny Jie is ten years older than Boss¡ªsurprised, huh? Are all Taiwanese people vampires? Before Boss escaped from China, he and Sunny Jie were online friends. Surviving the life-or-death trek across the border, Sunny Jie was overjoyed to tears when she knew he was alive. She insisted we find her. Boss missed Sunny Jie too¡ªhe got bitten by a venomous snake and broke his ankle in the jungle, but his determination to see her kept him going. It was a miracle fueled by love.¡± Nemo was caught off guard and force-fed a mouthful of public displays of affection, his skin crawling as he awkwardly rubbed his back against the headboard. "Sunny Jie wasn¡¯t having it easy back then either. The restaurant belonged to her father, but her skills were limited to accounting and cleaning¡ªshe had no clue how to bring in customers. To make things worse, thugs frequently showed up demanding protection money. She didn¡¯t want us to starve, so Boss seized the opportunity to step in. He suggested playing the role of the ¡®don¡¯t-mess-with-me¡¯ manager, you¡¯d cook, and I¡¯d wait tables. Perfect teamwork!" "They got married last week! Boss has finally, officially, earned his place. We were all groomsmen. They just got back from their honeymoon, and then you suddenly lost your memory again. No wonder Boss is losing his mind! Don¡¯t worry¡ªSunny Jie dotes on you. Boss might scold you, but he won¡¯t deduct a single dollar from your pay." So, calling him "Boss" before his wedding was sarcasm? Nemo almost couldn¡¯t resist the urge to retort. He propped his face up with one hand, trying to hide his twitching mouth. "How did I get my asylum application approved?" Nemo realized his current situation was far better than being an illegal border crosser. Relieved, he was curious¡ªjust how tragic was his past to have convinced the immigration officer to let him in? Two days ago, he had been criticizing illegal immigrants with Texans. Who¡¯d have thought he¡¯d wind up on the other side of the wire fence in a parallel world? §´§à§Ý§ñ rubbed his chin, studying the exhausted youth with amusement. Nemo¡¯s pale face, thin build, and docile demeanor matched the stereotype of an Asian who would hand over his wallet at the first sign of trouble¡ªone of those quiet, law-abiding urbanites essential to American cities. They worked hard, raised families, and never caused trouble. "You had signs of electric shock injuries, defensive wounds, evidence of prolonged restraint, and fractures from being beaten with blunt objects¡ªnot to mention severe amnesia. Here, I even applied iodine for you. I couldn¡¯t forget those injuries even if I tried.¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ reached into Nemo¡¯s hair, gently pressing two spots. Nemo touched his head and confirmed¡ªthere were indeed slightly uneven scars.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. ¡°Taiwanese people don¡¯t need to sneak across the US-Mexico border. Your passports are powerful. No wonder everyone thought you¡¯d been kidnapped.¡± "During the credible fear interview, the immigration officer realized that, although you couldn¡¯t recall your personal information, you could fluently discuss the Hong Kong anti-extradition protests. You were so emotionally charged throughout the interview. You also described the CCP¡¯s human rights violations in extraordinary detail. Then they threw in bonus questions about the Taiwan Strait crisis, and you answered so well, even better than the CIA. After reviewing hospital reports, the officer concluded that you¡¯d faced life-threatening danger and sustained irreversible memory loss from your injuries during the crossing. They approved your asylum application." §´§à§Ý§ñ recited the story like he was giving a presentation, so smoothly that it sounded rehearsed. "Your case was unusual. Apparently, there was a suspicious man in a suit present during the interview. He suggested the officer hand you a laptop to see what you¡¯d do. You immediately opened World of Warcraft and logged in without even looking at the keyboard. But the account you entered didn¡¯t exist, and you were furious. The lawyer thinks you should keep playing that game¡ªmaybe a fellow player will recognize you and reveal your true identity. I wasn¡¯t there; this is all what you told me yourself." "I believe you." Nemo had already experienced the absurdity of waking up in a parallel world. He wasn¡¯t about to reject this kindness. Learning that §´§à§Ý§ñ and Boss had known him only in his amnesiac state brought him relief. Curiosity about his past was outweighed by his focus on surviving and improving his life in this world. Being thrown into the jungle on the border and left half-dead usually happened for one of two reasons: owing a debt or making enemies with some ruthless individual. But from the lack of any sense that this body could speak Spanish, Nemo suspected its original owner likely lived on the American side. That was as far as he was willing to speculate about the past. For Nemo, life only became meaningful after meeting Boss and §´§à§Ý§ñ, marking the beginning of his time in America. "Nemo, when you meet with lawyers or immigration officers, you always instinctively start the conversation in English. It''s too natural, like you''ve been chatting with American friends all your life. You even use slang and can recite the Declaration of Independence and sing the national anthem! They suspected you were some dissident living in America, kidnapped by Chinese secret police, beaten, and smuggled across the border, only dropping the theory when they couldn''t find any missing persons or criminal records that matched you." In other words, even if Nemo had lived in the U.S. before, he was probably an undocumented immigrant. Never underestimate a seasoned Taiwanese keyboard warrior with twenty years of online debate experience. When you''ve spent a decade playing games day and night with someone from Texas, even eating and living together for a week, it''s hard not to pick up the American national anthem. Nemo could spout lines like "all men are created equal" without missing a beat¡ªanything the original owner knew, he had now inherited. "Anyway," §´§à§Ý§ñ added, "no Chinese spy could fake your sharp tongue or... free-spirited mindset. As Boss would say in his hometown slang, you''re the type to ''ÈÕÌìÈÕµØ'', meaning fxxk the whole world." §´§à§Ý§ñ flashed a rock ''n'' roll hand sign with both hands. "Oh, §´§à§Ý§ñ, I really don¡¯t remember." "Before you recovered, Boss and I had to reintroduce ourselves to you every other day. We got used to it! Back in the refugee English classes, nobody liked me because I was Russian and our motherland was invading Ukraine. You were the only one who¡¯d teach me English, no matter how many times I needed it repeated. As long as you didn¡¯t charge tuition, I was happy to be your memory box, brother." "Forgetting painful memories might not be so bad," §´§à§Ý§ñ comforted him. "Your life has already restarted!" Not just his life. Yesterday, Nemo had also updated his worldview and personal beliefs. He couldn¡¯t even begin to explain it. "Why did you leave Moscow?" Nemo asked. "My girlfriend was Ukrainian. She went missing in Bucha. I was so furious that I led protests against the ''special military operation.'' It was an invasion! A family acquaintance bribed the police to get me out of trouble, and I fled before being drafted. If I¡¯d stayed in Moscow, I¡¯d definitely be charged with treason and locked up for twenty years. My protest videos are still on Twitter¡ªI was genuinely terrified, running for my life. A lot of Americans online said they wanted to help me, so I decided to take a chance. My face had already been exposed, so escaping with other refugees was risky. An informant would easily tip off the authorities, and then agents would drag me back to be executed. Going solo was safer." §´§à§Ý§ñ thumped his chest, breathing heavily. As expected from someone raised in a former communist country, §´§à§Ý§ñ¡¯s survival instincts were sharper than the average refugee. Since arriving in the U.S., his Russian roommate had kept an incredibly low profile, refusing to capitalize on his anti-war fame or monetize his story. Partly because he disliked exposing his private life, but also to avoid bringing trouble to his friends and family back in Moscow. "You went to the bar last night to hit on girls?" §´§à§Ý§ñ crossed his arms in mock horror, then suddenly quieted down. His blue eyes gazed deeply at Nemo. "We hadn¡¯t been together long before we were torn apart. It wasn¡¯t a deep relationship, but it still hurts. She was such a kind girl. If it weren¡¯t for taking care of her disabled grandmother, she could have escaped the country in time," §´§à§Ý§ñ murmured, muttering phrases like "a trampled flower" and "vanished beauty," before sniffing softly. The two men sat in silence for a moment before sighing simultaneously. Nemo thought for a moment and asked, "Do you still have any records about me? Copies of the asylum forms, medical reports from the hospital? If I keep losing my memory, do I have a diary or something similar?" "No diary. You were too lazy to write one. Work was exhausting, and after your shift, you¡¯d just stay home surfing the internet. You never spent the night out or brought women over¡ªkind of a geek. Sunny Jie called it ''keeping yourself pure.'' It is unhealthy to repress yourself like that, but considering how badly injured you were before, playing it safe wasn¡¯t a bad idea. You used to tell me about all the crazy news happening everywhere. If you forget something, you can just ask me directly. I¡¯ll go grab the documents, but promise me this: after reviewing the evidence, you¡¯ll take it easy and rest today. No running around." Nemo silently noted that he might have hidden critical information online, adding it to his to-do list. He did want to go out and explore the mysterious Lone Star City, but §´§à§Ý§ñ knew him too well... How could his roommate be this annoyingly perceptive about the current him, even after crossing universes? Nemo chalked it up to isotopes reacting in similar ways. It didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out that neither of them could afford expensive private health insurance. Nemo had no idea what kind of welfare the city offered to immigrants, but he was certain he shouldn¡¯t waste time in a hospital. As a chef, hygiene and health were paramount. Besides, he had a computer and internet access¡ªmore than enough to experience the world. While §´§à§Ý§ñ went to fetch the documents, Nemo headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. The bitter taste in his mouth finally faded, leaving him feeling much more refreshed. He even called the restaurant manager to wish him a happy honeymoon (on purpose), earning himself a loud scolding. Beneath the thunderous reprimands was unmistakable, rough-edged concern. Another person added to the list of those forbidding him from going out. Back in bed, Nemo fiddled absentmindedly with his social security card, flipping it between his fingers. Kill Steal Man Vol.1 chapter.2 Part.1 Don¡¯t question why a Chinese restaurant serves fries and fried meatball slices. Think of it like the Japanese pairing fried rice with gyoza¡ªit¡¯s all a matter of personal taste. As long as it brings in more revenue for the restaurant, that¡¯s all that matters. Plus, who could possibly hate fries with ketchup? And if they do, they¡¯re probably the type to dip them in milkshakes instead! At the very least, when customers rush in hungry during the chef¡¯s absence or closing prep, they won¡¯t starve. West Lake Restaurant even bought an air fryer that¡¯s so simple a monkey could use it. In less than a week, Nemo had adapted to working in the parallel world¡¯s restaurant. His specialty was teppanyaki, but he¡¯d also worked in steakhouses and other eateries before. Though the style was different from his predecessor¡¯s, both the manager and the customers were satisfied with his improved dishes. Nemo¡¯s proud new creation, Sweet and Sour Pork Ribs, was already on its way to dethroning Orange Chicken as the restaurant¡¯s top seller. ¡°Bro! You''ve leveled up!¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ said, wolfing down a massive bowl of rice smothered in red sauce, looking utterly content. Of course, it had. Who did §´§à§Ý§ñ think he was dealing with? Compared to his predecessor, he had a full decade more experience. Internally, Nemo struck a triumphant pose, but outwardly, he played it modest, claiming he¡¯d been quietly studying new recipes for some time. The restaurant owner, Sunny Jie, was overcome with nostalgia after experiencing a rare taste of home. Inspired, she ambitiously decided to launch a new bento business. The restaurant targeted the affordable yet high-quality market, and with the recent wave of Taiwanese refugees arriving in Lone Star City, it presented a perfect opportunity to expand their customer base.More customers meant higher tips, and everyone wanted to save a little extra money. The entire team enthusiastically dove into planning. Although the restaurant employed three other staff members who worked on rotating shifts, Nemo and §´§à§Ý§ñ¡ªthe backbone of the revitalized business¡ªseldom had consecutive days off. Concerned that Nemo¡¯s frequent memory lapses were due to overwork, Sunny Jie voiced her worries, but Nemo promptly reassured her that it wasn¡¯t related to his job and that he simply needed time to recover. In any case, Sunny Jie proposed a revolutionary plan: once their revenue met expectations, they would adopt a one-day weekend schedule. She was getting older and couldn¡¯t push herself too hard. Nemo and §´§à§Ý§ñ cheered loudly, winking playfully at boss Liu only to be met with a thunderous roar from the Sichuan man. Despite the workload, Nemo felt relaxed. Compared to his previous life where humiliation and nitpicking were the norm, this simple workplace with kind bosses and colleagues was so good. Shared hardship truly built camaraderie. In his spare time, Nemo used the internet to bridge the gap between the two worlds. What shocked him most was that Nobunaga¡¯s Ambition existed here too, though the copyrights had never left Japan, meaning the Taiwanese and Chinese servers had never existed. World of Warcraft had a similar role-playing server, which Nemo swiftly registered for, but he didn¡¯t find any familiar player accounts or guild names. He hadn¡¯t expected much, but the fact that he kept typing in every name he could remember and finding nothing left him feeling bitter. Joining Nobunaga¡¯s Ambition¡¯s Japanese server didn¡¯t make sense. His attachment to the game had been about nostalgia, and without memories tied to this server, it held no meaning. World of Warcraft, however, provided a familiar interface¡ªa small harbor where his anxious heart could temporarily anchor. The world might have changed, but the game remained the same. Nemo felt strangely but comfortable. Another exhausting night passed. After closing and locking up the restaurant, Nemo often didn¡¯t arrive home until 11 p.m. Walking down the empty streets, he¡¯d instinctively glance at the sky. Good. No suspicious shadows or glowing creatures flying about. Back at the apartment¡ªhe¡¯d grown used to calling their shared, rundown place ¡°home,¡± a habit he likely picked up from his roommate¡ªNemo showered off the grease and sweat, brewed a pot of tea, and settled in for at least three hours of internet surfing. Thanks to his daily efforts, his understanding of this parallel Earth was rapidly improving. Before long, he heard §´§à§Ý§ñ return. There was some rustling, followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening. ¡°Good boy, already in your pajamas! How about a little excitement for tonight? Spicy fried chicken, soda, beer, and a movie marathon!¡± Both were broke, newly arrived immigrants, scrimping and saving wherever they could. Even though it was §´§à§Ý§ñ¡¯s turn to treat tonight, he instinctively split the fried chicken and fries evenly between two large plates, ensuring they shared the meal equally. The drinks were left out on the table. Nemo usually just took a sip to taste but stuck to his tea or coffee in the end. "Don¡¯t overestimate your ethnic metabolism. Keep indulging like this, and your hairline will soon be past the Third Island Chain!" If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t scare me!¡± While §´§à§Ý§ñ panicked and ran his fingers across his forehead to check that essential line, Nemo stealthily snagged an extra piece of chicken, claiming it was to ¡°share the burden of Karma.¡± The Russian¡¯s choice of gangster movie was so dull they had to chat to stay awake, though §´§à§Ý§ñ insisted they get his money¡¯s worth since he¡¯d rented it. ¡°I saw today during a delivery that the Grimm Tower has been completed. Lone Star City has a new landmark now.¡± ¡°Mmm. Let¡¯s just hope it doesn¡¯t become a target for aliens.¡± Nemo, only half-paying attention, focused more on the pistol model flashed onscreen during a negotiation scene. ¡°Do you even understand what I¡¯m saying? That means Matthew Grimm and his conglomerate are setting up their headquarters here!¡± ¡°Sounds like the name of a gardener or librarian.¡± Nemo shrugged. ¡°Come on! You memorized the names of all U.S. presidents and made me lose five cans of tea over a bet, but you don¡¯t know the richest man in America¡ªno, the world?!¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ dramatically pulled down his cheeks. Serves him right for betting on something I¡¯ve already discussed with Texans, Nemo thought smugly. Never pass up a free win. Nemo squinted. He didn¡¯t even know who the world¡¯s richest person was before his transmigration. Not knowing the wealthiest person in this world wouldn¡¯t cost him a thing. He might as well ask about the assassinated father of Iran¡¯s nuclear program instead. ¡°I prefer international news. Skip entertainment gossip, finance, sports, and lifestyle, thanks.¡± Nemo could be described as a fanatical follower of international diplomacy, military conflicts, and wars, or as someone deeply knowledgeable about China. He was oblivious to things that didn¡¯t capture his interest. ¡°Poor Nemo, since you¡¯ve lost your memory, I¡¯ll tell you this for free. Everyone in the bar¡¯s been gossiping like crazy about Grimm these past few days,¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ said, slinging an arm around the curly-haired young man¡¯s shoulder. Nemo simply rolled his eyes. ¡°That guy was born with a diamond spoon in his mouth. His dad owns the largest aerospace manufacturing company in America, and his mom is supposedly a Canadian scientist who¡¯s involved in top-secret U.S. weapons development, holding enough patents to rival nations. As for Matthew Grimm himself, he¡¯s a genius with an undefined IQ. He founded the Grimm Group, and everything he invests in turns to gold. Ten years ago, when the U.S. government shut down over a debt ceiling crisis and the space program was forced to halt, the Grimm family gambled their fortune to co-finance an exclusive American space station. Matthew Grimm even joined the design team. When it was completed, he owned half of it. Sure, the government controls its use, but Matthew is still the only man in the world who can claim to own half a private space station¡ªnot even the President of the United States has that kind of pull. And back then, he was only twenty-five!¡± ¡°I just have to ask: does Matthew Grimm¡¯s chest glow blue? Does he wear black tights and a cape to beat up thugs in dark alleys, or shoot arrows while wearing a Green hat?¡± ¡°Hah! I know what you¡¯re implying, but unfortunately, reality isn¡¯t a comic book or movie. That guy¡¯s like a cyborg¡ªhe¡¯s five centimeters taller than me and has a perfect build to boot!¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ¡¯s tone was distinctly sour. Nemo knew §´§à§Ý§ñ was 185 cm tall. Just how overpowered were the genes of the world¡¯s richest man? ¡°Fine! He must be bald, then!¡± Nemo insisted, always quick to side with his own. ¡°See for yourself!¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ searched for a photo and shoved his phone in Nemo¡¯s face. The screen displayed a black-haired man photographed from a high angle, his shirt completely unbuttoned to reveal deadly abs and pecs. His tie hung loosely across his shoulder, and his long legs were crossed atop a desk as he lazily raised a glass, smiling languidly at the camera. His hair was just as thick as Nemo¡¯s¡ªand straight! Damn it. ¡°This charity photoshoot cover set a new sales record for women¡¯s magazines. Every woman I know has a copy. Check out this close-up.¡± ¡°Such pure golden eyes. Very rare,¡± Nemo said objectively, noting the solid, gem-like quality. It wasn¡¯t the kind of amber gold that changed with the light¡ªmore like a wolf¡¯s eyes. ¡°Seems to be inherited from his mysterious mother. With how much of a genius this guy is, a little genetic mutation isn¡¯t surprising,¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ commented. Nemo thought there was something odd about two men crammed on a couch admiring sexy photos of another man, but he reasoned that some straight women also liked ogling big-chested beauties. It was probably the same mentality. Besides, he didn¡¯t want people to laugh at him for not knowing such a famous person. ¡°Are we done yet? Are we still watching the movie?¡± Nemo asked. ¡°What¡¯s the rush? The interesting part¡¯s coming up.¡± Nemo figured §´§à§Ý§ñ wouldn¡¯t just sing praises about America¡¯s and the world¡¯s richest man. After all, his roommate was a Russia who hated America and the rich. ¡°Within a few years, Matthew Grimm earned back the space station investment with Bitcoin and stocks. He also held his parents¡¯ freakish patents. Then he dove headfirst into developing reusable manned spacecraft, declaring he¡¯d make space travel accessible within ten years¡ªnot just skimming the K¨¢rm¨¢n line, but letting people stay overnight on the station. Earlier this year, his orbital hotel ¡®Houyhnhnms¡¯ successfully docked with the space station.¡± Of course, the U.S. government didn¡¯t just let the world¡¯s richest man run a hotel in space for fun. In the future, the expanded Houyhnhnms would also act as a rest stop for the seventh-generation fighter jets, offering pilots a place to recharge¡ªOf course, the new concept fighter jets that America has yet to unveil should be capable of spaceflight. Nemo now had a basic understanding of Matthew Grimm. The world¡¯s richest man? Aliens sounded more relatable. He filed the guy under ¡°things I don¡¯t need to care about.¡± ¡°To celebrate the opening of the orbital hotel, Matthew Grimm piloted a spaceship himself, bringing along three supermodels and throwing a birthday party for one of them on the station. Tabloids everywhere ran headlines like, ¡®Master Grimm Writes a Light and Weightless (Zero-G) Chapter in the History of Human Intimacy.¡¯ But that same day, the Meteor Shower Event happened, and the space station crashed.¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ shrugged dramatically, spreading his hands. ¡°¡­,¡± Nemo was now curious as to how the genius tycoon escaped such a deadly situation. Luckily, the billionaire and his models hadn¡¯t planned to stay long. Their spaceship was primed for immediate return, and because rich people are always paranoid about dying, it even came equipped with single-person escape pods. During the Meteor Shower Event, the wreckage of the space station and the spacecraft veered off course due to some mysterious falling object and disappeared. Many Grimm Group properties on Earth were also struck by meteors. In short, a complete mess. The U.S. government even mobilized the military to search for Matthew Grimm. The man knew too many state secrets, and even his corpse falling into enemy hands would be disastrous. A month later, a battered Matthew Grimm used a classified communications line to contact a U.S. military base in the Pacific and successfully returned to America. Matthew Grimm himself was a state secret. He may very well be the first and only human to survive witnessing part of the meteor shower¡¯s truth. According to Grimm, the meteor shower originated from an unidentified object resembling a small asteroid that exploded. He didn¡¯t know the spacecraft¡¯s crash coordinates¡ªhis half-broken escape pod had drifted to a deserted island. He managed to repair the communications equipment and contact a fishing boat. At that time, the Taiwan Strait War had broken out, throwing global shipping into chaos. Many vessels were forced to alter their routes or were stuck drifting offshore. After barely surviving and explaining the ordeal, the rich tycoon announced he¡¯d be relocating to Lone Star City to rebuild his group¡¯s headquarters, branding it with his company¡¯s iconic symbol¡ªa golden-green stag¡¯s antlers. He then shut himself off from the public to recover, acquiring several companies in Lone Star City and buying up a thirty-story landmark commercial building for reconstruction. Nowadays, rich people were into building bunkers instead of skyscrapers, but the golden-eyed, black-haired billionaire insisted on standing out. It was like he¡¯d die if he didn¡¯t show off. Tabloids even published features titled, ¡°Ladies, Head to Lone Star City!¡± ¡°As the saying goes, ¡®don¡¯t court trouble, and you won¡¯t get into trouble,¡¯ sure Matthew Grimm is a capable guy,¡± Nemo remarked sincerely. ¡°Right? When you were off, Sunny Jie specifically told us to talk to customers about Grimm. Apparently, it makes them spend more money. He¡¯s practically Lone Star City¡¯s tourist attraction! I think Sunny Jie¡¯s smitten with him. Don¡¯t be surprised if you see clippings of his magazine covers around the store.¡± ¡°How come I didn¡¯t know about this?¡± ¡°You¡¯re the cook; you don¡¯t talk to customers. I guess Sunny Jie gives you special treatment.¡± §´§à§Ý§ñ, now in his post-snack "sage mode," turned his attention back to the gangster movie, staring blankly while chewing on fries. Suddenly, he blurted out, "Be honest, Nemo¡ªdo you have superpowers?"