American comic book: I, with my abundant martial virtue, love to do good to others.

Lynn didn't respond.

"They never tell you the whole story," Matteo's voice tightened. "They only let you touch the edge, just enough to let you know that things aren't clean, but not enough to let you know what you're actually doing. So when you want to back out, you first doubt whether you're overthinking it. When you want to continue, you feel that if you go a little further, you might be able to truly stand firm."

"So you never left."

“I’ve tried it,” Matteo said immediately, his tone even more urgent than before, as if afraid of being misunderstood. “Once I didn’t answer their calls for two weeks, I went to sleep at a friend’s place, took a different route home, and even turned off my phone. Then on the third day, Carmela ran into a man asking for directions downstairs at her apartment building, holding a picture of our floor’s mailbox number. When she got back, she told me, ‘There are so many people getting their mail delivered to the wrong address lately.’”

After he finished speaking, the room suddenly became eerily quiet.

Lynn looked at him: "You didn't tell her."

"How can I tell her?" Matteo jumped up, his chair legs scraping the floor. "Tell her that because I've gotten involved with a bunch of people who don't know what they're up to, she might be being watched? Tell her that someone might be watching her on her way home every day? Can I even bring myself to say that?"

His voice was suppressed, but the last syllable still trembled noticeably. There was no sound outside the corridor; the soundproof door had trapped this lapse in control entirely within the room. Matteo's breathing was rapid, his chest heaving, and the skin on the back of his hand was taut and pale, as if that layer of transparent crystal would push out from underneath at any moment.

Lynn didn't get up immediately, but just glanced at his wrist: "Sit down. Don't get agitated."

"Don't talk to me like that."

"So what tone do you want me to use?" Lynn's voice remained steady, "To watch you have another outburst here?"

Matteo was stunned by that remark. His lips turned white, and he stood there for two seconds before finally hooking his chair back with one foot and sitting down again, though his shoulders were still as stiff as stone.

“From then on, I knew I couldn’t leave the clean,” he said in a low voice. “Not because they thought highly of me, but because they had ways to keep me afraid. Even if they did nothing, just letting you know that ‘they know where your sister is, what time she gets off work, and what color coat she’s wearing’ was enough.”

"So you continue to work for them," Lynn said.

"Yes." Matteo's voice was a little hoarse. "Keep running errands, keep acting tougher than anyone else, keep making everyone in the neighborhood think I've got my hands on some untouchable circle. That way, at least there's a shell. Even if it's just an appearance, I'll look like someone you can't mess with."

Lynn looked at the forced bravado on his face and suddenly asked, "Carmela knows you fight, knows you hang out with those people on the street, but she doesn't know the real story behind it all, does she?"

“She didn’t know,” Matteo finished quickly, then gave a self-deprecating smirk. “She thought the worst I could do was associate with small gangs, occasionally smuggle some dubious goods, or work as someone’s henchman. She probably thought I was utterly rotten, but she didn’t think of anything deeper… I never let her think of that.”

Why?

"Because she'll call the police," Matteo said without hesitation. "Or worse, she'll come looking for me, bombarding me with questions, trying to drag me out of this mess. That's the kind of thing she'll do."

"You think that would hurt her."

“It’s not just that I think it, it’s that it definitely will.” Matteo stared at him, his voice hardening. “You saw it today. They were able to get a sniper rifle into her house. And that was when they were trying to get their stuff back and keep someone alive. If I had really done something they felt they had to clean up, Carmela wouldn’t be sitting outside talking to you in the middle of this.”

Lynn didn't refute that. The bedside lamp in the room was too dim, making Matteo's tired face look even more pronounced, and even the youthful air on his chin was almost worn away, leaving only a sharp feeling of having learned to endure too early.

"When did you start to realize they weren't just an ordinary gang?" Lynn asked.

Matteo was silent for a moment before slowly speaking: "About a year ago."

"Why?"

“Once I made a delivery at the wrong time,” he said. “I was supposed to deliver a refrigerated box to the back door of an old building in Queens before 1 a.m., but the subway stopped, so I was 20 minutes late. When I got there, the back door was already open, and there was a small gurney inside with a plastic sheet on the floor. I was going to put the box down and leave, but suddenly someone inside started yelling—not like they were screaming for help, but like someone’s mouth was being gagged, their throat was blocked, and all that could be heard was a thumping sound from inside their throat.”

As he said this, his eyes visibly darted away, as if that image still hadn't completely faded from his mind.

"What did you see?" Lynn asked.

“I only saw half of it.” Matteo’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “There was someone strapped to a metal chair, something stuck to their arm, and a shiny patch under the skin, like shards of glass growing out of the flesh. There were two men in white coats standing next to them, and another man in a suit asking for data. That’s not what you’d see in a street business setting… I knew something was wrong right then and there.”

"Did they see you?"

"I saw it." Matteo gave a wry smile. "That's why I was able to live such a miserable life afterward."

"They didn't kill you."

"Because I didn't read the whole thing," Matteo said. "Besides, there was more than one delivery person. Eliminating me outright would have seemed suspicious. The guy in the suit just glanced at me and asked my name. I told him. He nodded and said, 'Be punctual from now on.'"

"Did you go to places like that again later?"

“Not as obvious as that time,” Matteo shook his head. “But a few times I’ve come across things that have gotten increasingly strange. The freezer is full of medicine and samples. Some people have those clear crystals on their arms that don’t grow naturally; they’re a reaction to something they’ve been injected with. I also saw someone who used to drive for them; after not seeing him for a few days, when he came back, it looked like there was a layer of glitter under the skin of his left cheek, which would show when he got emotional. They say it’s an ‘adaptation reaction,’ and that it will pass.”

Lynn's gaze darkened: "Was that on the back of your hand also from there?"

Matteo's face paled slightly, as if a part he didn't want to touch had been suddenly exposed. He instinctively pulled his hand into his sleeve, a small movement that didn't escape Lynn's notice.

"I didn't do it voluntarily," he said in a very low voice.

Lynn didn't pressure him; she just waited.

After a while, Matteo seemed to finally grit his teeth and say in a low voice, "Three months ago, they said I'd been working for too long and needed a 'promotion,' meaning I'd get more important jobs and higher pay. I wanted to refuse, but they said, 'It's just a stabilizing injection; many people have done it. Haven't you always wanted to become stronger?'"

When he said this, the hard shell on his face was almost completely cracked, and his voice was filled with an extremely unpleasant hoarseness.

“I knew it was wrong, but I went anyway. Because Carmela was working the night shift at the time, and she was harassed by a drunk at the bus stop once. When I got there, the man had already run away, but she was standing on the side of the road, her hands still shaking, and she told me ‘it’s okay,’ and even asked me if I had been in another fight.” Matteo closed his eyes. “That day I really wanted to turn myself into a wall, so that everyone would avoid me. Nobody should come near her.”

Lynn looked at him but didn't say anything.

"So I went," Matteo said. "They gave me an injection, saying it was just a short-term boost. I didn't feel anything at first, but after about ten minutes, it felt like my wrist was burned through, and the bones were hurting. I thought I was going to die, but I didn't. Later they were very happy and said I 'reacted well' and could be monitored further."

"Then you will begin the crystallization reaction."

“Not every day.” Matteo stared at his hands. “It’s usually like it doesn’t exist, it only pops up when I’m emotional, exert myself too much, or when I’m near certain high-purity samples. It started on the back of my hand, and then once it even spread to my wrist… I knew I was done for.”

"They didn't give you complete information," Lynn said.

"Of course not," Matteo sneered. "They'll just say, 'Don't be afraid, this is advancement,' 'You're not just an ordinary errand boy anymore,' 'Just hang in there, you'll become a more useful person.' But I'm not stupid. I've seen what those who couldn't make it through look like."

"So you started thinking about running away."

"Yes." Matteo answered decisively this time. "It's not because I suddenly had a change of heart, but because I finally realized that if I stayed any longer, I would either become a more obedient tool in their hands, or one day lose control and die in some unknown room."

He raised his head, his eyes seeming to have a faint moisture, but he stubbornly suppressed it.

“But I still can’t just run away,” he said. “Because Carmela is still there. She knows nothing, and she even reheats the soup I left when I come back in the middle of the night. How could I just dump this mess on her without a word?”

Lynn asked, "So you stole the samples and access cards not to get rich, but to keep some leverage."

"Hmm," Matteo responded softly. "I was thinking that even if I can't leave, at least I should have something that will prevent them from making any immediate moves against me. The samples are valuable, and the access cards can open transfer points. As long as I have them, they'll have to talk to me first, instead of just killing me and Carmela right away."

"You're being too optimistic," Lynn said.

"I know." Matteo gave a bitter smile, the tears welling up in his eyes finally becoming more pronounced. "But tell me, what other options are there? Call the police? Hire a lawyer? Or tell Carmela, 'Sis, I've run into a group of people who might be conducting human experiments, so don't walk home alone at night lately'? What can I do?"

When he asked that last question, his voice was trembling uncontrollably. It wasn't the same kind of explosive anger as before; it was something deeper, something more pathetic, like finally breaking through the shell that had been stubbornly holding on all this time, revealing inside just a young man who had always been afraid.

Lynn sat there, looked at him for a while, and then spoke: "You think you have to look scary enough to protect her?"

Matteo didn't deny it, but his eyes flickered.

"You think that as long as others are afraid of you first, they won't dare to touch Carmela," Lynn continued. "So you stand next to things that can scare people, even if you have no idea what's in them."

"...Yes." Matteo's voice was very low.

"As a result, you got dragged into it yourself."

Matteo closed his eyes: "Yes."

The room remained quiet for a long time, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner vents. Lynn finally sat up straighter in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees, and looked at him: "What you told me today, you didn't tell anyone before?"

"no."

"Your sister doesn't have any either?"

"no."

"Why are you saying this now?"

Matteo stared at the water glass on the table, as if it took him a long time to find a barely acceptable reason: "Because I almost saw her die today."

Lynn didn't move.

"When the window blew, my mind went blank." Matteo's throat tightened. "Then she slipped on the fire ladder, and I thought she was going to fall. Then someone fired a gun from the manhole cover, and I heard her gasping for breath down there, like she was about to throw up, and she kept clutching that pot... At that moment, I thought, if something really happens to her because of me, all the stupid things I did before will have been for nothing."

After he finished speaking, he looked up at Lynn, and for the first time, his eyes no longer held the sharp edge of his previous bravado; all that remained was an excessive weariness and a hint of awkwardness in his need for confirmation.

"Do you think I'm particularly stupid?" he asked.

Lynn looked at him and said in a low voice, "I think you started trying to shield yourself from the wind when you were sixteen, and you were completely wrong about it, but you're not stupid."

Matteo froze, as if he hadn't expected to hear this.

"You want to protect her, and that's not stupid," Lynn said. "The method you chose was terrible, so terrible it almost buried you both. But I'm not going to use that to put you down right now."

Matteo's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and his eyes suddenly reddened. As if he was about to utter a curse, he turned his face away, reached up and wiped the bridge of his nose with a quick and forceful motion.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, "Don't say things like that at a time like this."

"Which language?"

"Like..." Matteo gritted his teeth, seemingly feeling ashamed to say the word, and finally managed to squeeze out, "Like treating me like a normal person."

"Aren't you a normal person?"

"Do I look like this now?"

"Like a young person who is sleepless, hurt, stubborn, and feels they have to shoulder everything alone," Lynn said. "You're not the only one like that in the federal building."

Matteo whirled around: "You count too?"

"I just crawled out of the sewers," Lynn said, looking at him. "You decide for yourself."

Matteo stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly laughed. The laugh was brief, slightly nasal, as if he had been pushed to the brink and that was all he could do. After laughing, his face slowly fell, and he rested his hand on his forehead, not lifting it for a long time.

"I really don't know what they're doing," he said. "I know there are samples, injections, compatibility tests, and all that nonsense, but I don't know the whole story. I've just been a pawn being pushed along the whole time."

"I know," Lynn said.

"How did you know?" (End of Chapter)