Good grief.
Did I just poke a hornet's nest inside S.H.I.E.L.D.?
A memory flashed—an anime from my past life where the black-clad syndicate's leadership was nothing but moles and traitors, with Gin the only real loyalist.
My situation? Basically the same "Winery" gag.
No—worse.
At least Gin was actual liquor. Me, the newly minted "boss," isn't even counterfeit swill—I'm a puppet shoved onto the stage.
A chill shot up my spine.
Run.
I had to run. Now.
The thought popped up—and I strangled it immediately.
Run where?
S.H.I.E.L.D. had eyes all over Earth. Where could a "clean-record" (…question mark) civilian like me go?
I'd buy a plane ticket with my front foot and get bagged at the gate with my back foot.
Bolting with a bucket wasn't an option.
Despair rolled over me again.
So what then—sit tight while S.H.I.E.L.D. nets my old man's criminal network and pins me as the "mastermind," or just makes me disappear?
…Wait.
In the middle of my scrambled thoughts, a light flicked on.
Something didn't add up.
If S.H.I.E.L.D. had total control, why not just close the net?
Why keep Coulson and the others embedded, even putting on a show for me?
There's only one answer.
They didn't have all the pieces.
My "dear departed" father must've hidden deeper secrets—or parallel channels S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't mapped.
And I, as the sole heir, was their key to those secrets.
So until they'd squeezed out every drop of use, they wouldn't touch me.
I was safe—for now.
Realizing that didn't relax me. Instead, a bolder, crazier idea crawled out of my chest.
If they want to use me…
…why can't I use them?
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s ace operatives. Future Avengers.
As tools to farm "Legend Points"? Tailor-made.
Right under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose, leveraging S.H.I.E.L.D.'s resources, I'd summon anomalies, contain them, claim rewards, and keep leveling up.
What's more exciting than that?
The risk was massive—but so was the payoff.
In an instant, panic and dread drained from my eyes, replaced by a feverish heat and almost pathological thrill.
I eased back onto the sofa, even letting a smile surface.
Looking at the three super-spies with their own agendas, I spoke slowly.
"Excellent."
My gaze swept across the trio. The feverish excitement caged neatly beneath a calm surface.
My expression showed nothing but the natural scrutiny of a new man in charge.
"From today on, the three of you will stay by my side."
I lounged into the cushions and laid it down in a tone that brooked no argument.
"You worked for my father. From now on, you'll adapt to my rules."
Coulson maintained that professional, mild smile and dipped his head.
"Of course, sir. We're at your disposal."
I let a playful curl tug at my lips.
"Good. I'll take you… to see a broader—and more real—world."
The line made Coulson, Natasha, and Melinda all pause.
A more real world?
More real than international arms-running and juggling intelligence services and terror cells?
Maybe the new Young Master was more complicated than their briefings suggested.
At that moment, Alfred—who'd stood by quietly—spoke up.
"Young Master, since Ms. Melinda and Ms. Natasha will follow you henceforth, perhaps assign them to your personal protection."
His tone was earnest.
"Your status is not what it once was. Security must come first."
He added, with a meaningful note:
"I'm getting old. There are many things I can no longer handle. With them at your side, both work and life will be well looked after. If you don't mind… you might even consider letting one of them become the lady of this house."
The atmosphere went… odd.
Melinda's brow tightened by a hair; Natasha, amused, looked me over like she was appraising a curious artifact.
I almost choked on my own spit.
Good man—this butler wasn't just loyal; he was planning my love life?
Buy one boss, get one bed-warmer free?
Snark aside, I had to admit—the proposal benefited me.
The Cavalry and Black Widow—right now they're near the ceiling of Earth's combat power.
With them around, my safety factor skyrockets.
As for them assassinating me…
I wasn't worried.
Not before S.H.I.E.L.D. found what it wanted—my life was worth more than anyone's.
"Alfred's suggestion is sound."
I nodded, accepting the arrangement.
"Let's do it."
Relieved, Alfred turned to Coulson.
"Phil, is there anything urgent the Young Master must handle at once?"
Coulson stepped forward. The smile thinned; his face set.
"Young Master, there is one critical matter."
"A month ago, the Ten Rings in the Middle East ordered a miniature nuclear warhead from us and paid a one-billion-dollar deposit."
A nuke.
My pulse gave a hard thump.
Coulson continued, "After the Old Master's accident, the warhead's trail went cold. We've searched every probable depot—no joy."
"Per the contract, if we fail to deliver within a month, we owe double the deposit—and the Group's reputation will crater. That could trigger a cascade of consequences."
Everything snapped into place.
So that's why S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't closed the net.
That missing nuke.
A stray nuclear warhead needs no explanation.
Until they had eyes on it, S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't dare move. Which made me—the only 'in-the-know' heir—their most valuable lead.
The nuke had become my talisman.
With that settled, I felt steady.
I waved Coulson off, feigning nonchalance.
"The warhead can wait."
"What?" Coulson thought he'd misheard. "Sir, this concerns the Group's survival—"
"I said—it can wait."
I cut him off. No room for debate.
"I have something more important—and more dangerous—on my plate."
I rose, stepped close to the three of them, and let a meaning they couldn't parse flicker in my eyes.
"In a few days, you'll understand what I mean by 'a more real world.'"
(End of Chapter)
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