Marvel Magic Case Files

Chapter 1736 Using Chanel's Mermaid

Before meeting the male head of the household, the time spent preparing dinner further reinforced Yelena Belova's impression of Natasha Romanov's current living conditions. Only a wealthy, leisurely, and unhurried life allows for the time to carefully prepare dinner, because the whole process is complex and time-consuming. It's definitely not just about picking up chocolate snacks from the shelf, tearing open the packaging, or throwing fast food packets into the microwave, pressing a few buttons, and waiting for the "ding—" sound. Nor is it about piling all the high-calorie foods available on the shelf onto a baking tray and putting them in the oven to finish the preparation.

Her professional instincts led her to thoroughly inspect the kitchen; otherwise, she would have preferred to eat the Snickers she bought from the supermarket. Unless there was a large-scale food safety incident, she was unlikely to be poisoned by industrially processed food on the shelf, meaning her safety was assured.

She saw pre-marinated geese and ducks, and jars of berry and citrus jams, presumably to be applied to the poultry that were about to be baked. In addition, there were fresh prawns that had been peeled and deveined, their heads being fried in a small stainless steel pan. The maid put chopped onions and tomato paste into the pan, and then poured in a glass of what looked like a very expensive white wine.

Yelena watched the entire process of making the seafood pasta sauce, then was coldly ushered out by the maids because she was getting in the way. The kitchen in this villa wasn't large, and it already felt cramped with a five-person service team. Yelena, who was watching closely and seemingly afraid that the maids might do something underhanded, was even more annoying.

Especially when she attempted to inspect the bottle of white wine, Head Maid Dina assumed she was simply trying to cause trouble and slow down the dinner proceedings. An android would never tolerate its professional competence being questioned, much less allow interference from others to prevent its master from receiving the service it deserved.

Natasha, who was organizing documents in the living room, finally realized that Yelena was missing.

It took her five minutes to realize the increasingly tense atmosphere in the kitchen. She forcefully dragged her sister from the kitchen into the living room, arguing that they shouldn't disturb the maid's dinner preparations, otherwise they wouldn't get anything to eat that night. Yelena stumbled along with Natasha, but she still held up two fingers behind Natasha's back, pointing to her eyes and poking at the bottle of wine.

Diana ignored Yelena's provocation.

However, the head maid put the bottle away, lest someone suddenly decide to add something to it.

"Dinner wasn't very lavish tonight because I had a fight with someone. He declared he'd catch a fish good enough for a main course, or he wouldn't be coming home." Natasha didn't notice Yelena and Diana's interaction. She spoke of her husband with a smile, clearly in a good mood. "He said the same thing yesterday. He thought I hadn't noticed the maids secretly bringing him dinner..."

Yelena raised an eyebrow in surprise. "It seems you really like him."

"I've said it before, I've known him for many years."

Natasha took the satellite phone from another maid. "It's a bit impolite to be fishing when we have guests; I have to remind him. By the way, tonight's supper is thick soup and chili oil—my Chinese isn't very good, so I can't describe the food directly—it's probably from the Sichuan Basin, spicy enough to combat the nighttime chill. Dinah and the others have prepared all the food; if you get hungry tonight, you can come to the dining room. The pots here never stop boiling all day; this will always be your home."

Yelena pursed her lips, but didn't say anything that showed her dislike.

When she met the man of the villa, he was sitting at the dining table, listening to his sister say something in a low voice, his face full of boredom. When Yelena appeared, the man immediately stood up, his expression like someone who had been moldy in a basement for a month during the rainy season and had finally seen the sun; his joy was almost jumping out of his eyes.

“Natasha always emphasizes things like hospitality to me.” He waved his arms cheerfully, as if greeting a distant friend. “To be honest, it’s a little annoying—excuse me, she’s actually a little nervous about your arrival—like a middle-class woman meeting a college classmate, trying her best to prove she’s doing well now, with a wealthy real estate tycoon husband. You must be Yelena. I am Salomon, or Savage, the former being the name I’ve used for twenty years, the latter the identity I’ve used for two hundred years. Both identities are real, you can call me whatever you like.”

Natasha kicked his shin a few times under the table, which finally shut Salomon up.

Yelena first carefully examined his skin and face, then her gaze swept down his body. First, her gaze fell on his young, handsome face and dark eyes, then his broad shoulders and strong triceps, and finally his taut leg muscles. Judging from his movements, he was a nimble fellow; his calloused fingers suggested he frequently used firearms and knives, and had likely killed people before.

"No wonder you married him, dear sister." Yelena didn't greet the man, but instead looked at her sister. "He looks handsome and strong, very interesting, and he's an old wizard who's lived a long time. How did you two meet?"

"I met her at S.H.I.E.L.D. before I was an adult. It wasn't exactly friendly. S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't find my past or know my abilities until I showed them a little... a gentle power."

"Nat hasn't lived that long." Yelena's eyes were full of doubt.

"The power you've displayed is anything but gentle," Natasha retorted. "Nick Fury thought you could easily destroy a city, but now it seems that's just your most basic ability."

Yelena glanced at her.

Such words can be said at any time, but bringing them up now only proves that Natasha is subtly reminding her, or rather, threatening her. "As for your age," Natasha shrugged, "I think it's better if you explain it yourself; most people would have a hard time understanding your experiences."

"That's easy to understand, it's just time travel. When I was twenty, I went back to the past, and to avoid interfering with the timeline, I lived in the present under various identities. Time has given me a long period of torment, but I've used that time to accumulate wealth, so don't worry about your spending here, because I'm really rich."

"That's incredible." Yelena nodded, not entirely believing it.

Salomon could tell what Yelena was thinking, but he didn't care.

Natasha wanted to say something more to try and improve the relationship between Salomon and Yelena, but he stopped her. "You don't like business negotiations, so I'll be frank with you. Black Widow isn't necessary for me. I don't need Swallow, and I don't lack agents. I'm doing this only because of her." Salomon took Natasha's hand, indicating they were on the same page. "She wants all Black Widows to live normal lives, and I don't mind fulfilling her wish."

"Live a normal life," Yelena finally adopted a negotiating stance. "Like her?"

"She's different. It's a miracle, it's supernatural, it doesn't require a scalpel."

"I need successful case studies. Since Nat hasn't used this technology, I need more detailed information."

Salomon knew Yelena had accepted the deal; her only concern was that he would use the technology to control Black Widow.

"In vitro organ cultivation technology, a byproduct of biochemical research, uses the recipient's genes for cultivation, has no rejection reaction, and can meet the needs of all Black Widows. I only charge for the technology and medical costs, with no premium, and the price won't be so high that they can't afford it."

"Anything else?"

"If they don't have a partner but need offspring, I can open my gene bank and gene lab to them. The artificially cultivated gene bank uses gene editing technology to create offspring without genetic diseases and immune deficiencies, and can also customize hair color, skin color, and eye color."

Yelena leaned forward slightly, seemingly accepting Salomon's explanation.

"I need a deadline."

"Work for me for five years. This organization will be led by you or Nat. I will only be responsible for providing funding and weapons, and will not interfere in any of the organization's work or internal affairs. After five years, all Black Widows can leave unless they voluntarily stay to join the organization and enjoy medical insurance and a pension."

"I can vouch for you, Yelena," Natasha said. "You don't even trust me, do you?"

"I don't believe you," Yelena retorted bluntly in Russian. "You haven't even used the technology; you can't guarantee anything."

"Your sister is a proponent of natural conception; I am the gene donor."

Salomon clapped his hands to interrupt the sisters' argument and brought their attention back to the present.

He didn't know what the past was between Natasha and Yelena; he planned to ask tonight, but not now. Natasha had already sold him all the Black Widows in one go, and he needed to offer a price that would satisfy everyone. He also didn't give Yelena time to be surprised by his fluent Russian.

"I can provide relevant information, including physical examination data of gene-edited newborns. In Yugoslavia today, this technology has been provided to the top hospitals and laboratories. Some of the technology is also available in high-end clinics and biological laboratories controlled by wholly-owned subsidiaries in the United States, which specialize in genetic screening for the offspring of the wealthy and politicians. So you don't need to worry about this technology causing any harm."

"I'll be staying here for a while," Yelena said, pulling out a chair and standing up. "Give me a room."

"You can choose your own room; Diana will help you."

"I need to find a room far from your bedrooms, otherwise I'll definitely be woken up by noise at night." Yelena grinned nonchalantly, but Natasha looked like she was about to explode. She glared angrily at Yelena, as if she wanted to strangle her with her eyes. "You certainly don't want another spectator, right?"

"It's not always at night," Salomon corrected. "Usually, Dinah is the audience."

He then winced and gasped, because Natasha was angrily attacking his shinbone. He didn't feel any pain, but he had to make this gesture so that he could have a perfect night.

Yelena hunched her shoulders, rubbed her arms, and felt goosebumps rising all over her body.

"Ugh, this is disgusting." She shook her head. "I can't stay here any longer. The air smells like syrup and hormones. Have the maid bring dinner to my room. I need to rest. I haven't slept for twenty hours while searching for Nat."

"She doesn't trust us," Natasha said immediately to Salomon after Yelena left. "I'm sure you said the speech didn't work, and she thinks you have ulterior motives. She won't trust us much until she's seen all the information."

"Anyway, there's nothing important stored here. If she wants to see it, let her. I'll arrange for Diana to cancel tonight's indoor patrol to prevent them from shooting at Yelena."

Yelena's movements that night were completely monitored by the sorority, but no one in the villa paid her any attention. As long as she didn't approach Salomon and Natasha's bedroom with a weapon, the sorority wouldn't stop her. When Salomon got up, Dinah reported to him that Yelena had gone to the kitchen three times the previous night and ate the entire pot of stewed mutton.

In comparison, Yelena's intrusion into the study to examine the documents was utterly insignificant.

"I wouldn't mind having a pet with a good appetite in the villa, my lord." The little maid who had followed him for eight thousand years had finally developed her own temper. After all, women came and went around Salomon, but she was the only one who would always stay by his side. Diana said bluntly, "Anyway, her food expenses are less than what Ms. Romanov spends on lubricant."

This routine continued for several days. Salomon would go out to sea to fish at dawn, while Natasha and Yelena were responsible for organizing the weapons, personnel, and intelligence needed for the operation. Lacking a fully structured intelligence organization, they had to do much of the work themselves. Even the most common surveillance vans were not accessible to ordinary people, and many specialized equipment items were not available on the civilian market.

When their operation begins, the electronic reconnaissance attacks from hostile organizations will not stop. All electronic devices and communication tools will be detected and analyzed by the enemy. Without Salomon, Yelena and Natasha would have to use civilian devices. Although they can evade detection by means of anonymous SIM cards, disposable mailboxes, and gift card payments, for professional organizations, using civilian communication devices and software can only delay the time it takes to be detected.

However, none of this has anything to do with Salomon.

He was only responsible for signing the checks and providing the Swiss bank account and password; Natasha and Yelena handled everything else. They were experienced in using the organization's equipment for reconnaissance and counter-reconnaissance. Every time he got up, he would see a sleep-deprived Yelena yawning at the breakfast table, slowly stuffing food or soup into her mouth. Due to the maids' selfless dedication and the deliciousness of the food, Salomon couldn't help but suspect that Yelena intended to eat all the food in the villa.

They returned to the villa by boat in the late afternoon, just in time for dinner. Every time he said something like "the line is too thick" or "the bait is wrong," Natasha knew he hadn't caught anything that day, and Yelena would give a knowing, silly laugh (at least that's what Salomon saw as a silly laugh). If he had any success, he'd boast about it without anyone asking, which annoyed Yelena to no end. After all, nobody wants someone next to them recounting how much fish they caught that day during dinner.

One day, while Salomon was out fishing at sea, Yelena finally couldn't resist and went into the gym, where she saw Natasha working out. The former Black Widow was wearing a black sports bra, with a towel draped around her neck, and Yelena could even smell the sweat in the air.

"What is it?"

Yelena walked to the bar and poured herself a glass of apple juice. "I'm curious about the lives of the rich," she asked, pointing to the shooting range next to the gym. "Do wealthy women need to use firearms so often?"

"I'm doing rehabilitation," Natasha said without even glancing at her. "I can't let you do all the work."

"When did you become so kind, Nat?"

"I am your older sister."

Yelena shrugged. "Fine, you decide. I respect the rules of this villa and won't fight you here." She finished her apple juice and changed the subject. "He said he was going fishing, but you always have to contact him by satellite phone. Can his speedboat really go that far?"

"Childish," Natasha said without even glancing at her. "A crude attempt at provocation."

"When he came back yesterday evening, I smelled women's perfume on him. Unless there's a Chanel-wearing mermaid in the sea," Yelena clicked her tongue. "Aren't you even a little curious?"

“I am Savage’s wife, or more precisely, his wife under this identity,” Natasha said. “He has many secrets that are not meant for others to know. I happen to know some of them, such as the fact that he lived with two witches for many years under the identity of Salomon.”

Yelena blinked, then suddenly burst into gloating laughter.

"So you're the one who came later."

"It would be too boring for me to calculate how many women he'd had and how many times he'd been married in his eight thousand years of life. Humans only live for a hundred years, and he's a different species. Any relationship would be a fleeting experience for him." The former Black Widow put down the dumbbells. She looked at Yelena with a serious expression. "His willingness to pause means it's important to him. For me, a happy family life is what I need. Yelena, don't do anything unnecessary."

"Eight thousand years...it's unbelievable. I can't imagine having someone who's lived that long around me. Maybe he's even seen dinosaurs." Yelena raised her hands in surrender. "He doesn't even have the stench of old age, not even a trace of body odor. Did he hide it from you?"

Natasha remained silent. The union of spirit and flesh allowed her to dream fragments of Salomon's past life through sympathetic magic, even though she possessed no magical talent herself. Although some memories were deliberately concealed or erased, she still remembered that Salomon had many identities in history, most of which involved marriage, sometimes with more than one spouse.

After spending these few days together, Yelena had not developed any trust in Salomon.

The more she learned about him, the more incomprehensible Salomon seemed. For example, no adult male would use a cute pink wallet, yet Salomon not only did, but even his checkbook holder was shaped like a cartoon pig. It was as if nothing in the world was worth his concern; he could do whatever he wanted, which was utterly absurd. Not only that, his knowledge far exceeded the limits of ordinary people. He even knew trivial information like the different schools of Japanese ramen, and he knew the locations of the best ramen shops and the owners' temperaments like the back of his hand, as if he frequented them regularly.

She had tested Salomon's abilities before, and whenever she felt hostility towards Natasha or anyone in the villa, she would find her body completely paralyzed, unable to do anything except breathe and blink. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been so polite to Natasha—someone with such power, yet so engrossed in a dull and monotonous daily life—if this person had truly lived for eight thousand years, it wouldn't be hard to understand why she would have such thoughts.

However, she still felt like she was listening to a myth.

"Tell me your real purpose, Yelena. I've been waiting for this day for a long time." Natasha rolled her eyes. "You agreed to come here with me, certainly not just to eat all the midnight snacks. Diana has complained to me countless times that you've increased the kitchen's workload by thirty percent!"

"I betrayed the Red House."

"I know."

Aren't you curious about the reason?

"I'm waiting for you to say it."

"Do you know about the brainwashing research the Red Room conducted in its later stages?" Yelena bit her lip. "That was a technique from Hydra, initially used in the late 1990s. When they realized they couldn't control us with their minds, they used that drug… I stumbled upon an inhibitor, and it felt like suddenly remembering something I'd forgotten for a long time. I suddenly remembered Melina's contact information, and then I found you through her. Sounds cliché, right?"

"Sounds like a script written by a third-rate Hollywood screenwriter." Natasha shook her head. "What about the inhibitors? Don't tell me you didn't secretly collect samples?"

"I left it in your safe house in Budapest, planning to send it to you when I had the chance, but I knew you were wanted, and your scientist friend probably couldn't help. It seems you've found another good guy... Why do you look so strange?"

"Let me think... When you did this, Hungary was still an independent country, right?" Natasha couldn't help but laugh. "He will arrange for people to collect inhibitor samples from the safe house, and the analysis will be carried out simultaneously. You don't need to worry; he has many scientists working under him. Once we can mass-produce the inhibitor, we'll set off. It won't be long."

"Are you sure you want to participate?" Yelena stared at her lower abdomen suspiciously.

"Once we get to Zurich, we'll have to part ways temporarily. I don't mind resolving this while we wait, and then enjoying my retirement."

------------

Joan of Arc looked left and right, and finally realized something was wrong, because she saw a smile on Bayonetta's face.

No one can stay in a good mood under these circumstances.

She breathed in the stench of the air. The open space in front of her was littered with the corpses and blood of extradimensional predators. Joan of Arc rubbed her high heels against the stones, the congealed blood falling like powder. She couldn't help but mutter a curse under her breath. Compared to the pollution brought by the extradimensional creatures, the appalling environment here was far more damaging to firearms.

If Kamar-Taj had assigned a quest to the witch, neither she nor Bayonetta would have wanted to come to this stinking place in the South Asian subcontinent. The sorcerers of Kamar-Taj seemed too lazy to even walk down the mountain, assigning a quest so close at hand to my witch as if no one in the world could fight against extradimensional beings.

Joan of Arc suspected that even mystics and ascetics could not bear the stench of Indian cities, or that even mystics hated this country where the lives of animals were more precious than those of the untouchables, and that even the most pitiable untouchables were mostly so ignorant as to be nauseating, even more ignorant and selfish than the medieval European countryside.

"The portal's open, Ceresia, we should head back." Joan of Arc grinned in disgust. "I really don't know why those extradimensional beings descended here. Is it because this place is particularly superstitious? Anyway, I'm going to take a good bath when we get back and wash off this stench—I must admit, the bathtub he chose was fantastic, big enough for all of us to relax in. Want to come with me?"

"Of course." Bayonetta slipped her finger through the trigger guard, twirling the large-caliber pistol around it. "I need to take a good shower."

You're laughing.

"That's because I got the job done."

“You never make excuses, Ceresia, unless you’re trying to hide something from me.” Joan crossed her arms. “Like, you saw him. We slept separately last night, and that was the only time you had time to see him. That explains why you weren’t at the breakfast table this morning.”

“That’s right, he went back to the villa last night.” Bayonetta winked playfully. “He’s as strong as ever.”

"I knew your bed didn't collapse by itself!"