A helpless child, stranded far from home, all alone in an unfamiliar world—and yet he rejected the offer of adoption from a billionaire without hesitation, unwilling to impose on others.
Looking at Lemu's youthful profile, Pepper felt her heart ache. She thought of his tragic backstory, his resilience, and the purity shining through his gentle demeanor.
A sudden urge surged within her, growing uncontrollably.
She reached out, gently ruffling Lemu's long hair. Her voice softened into the kind of tone she had never used in her life.
"Tony's right. The outside world is too dangerous. We can't just leave you to fend for yourself out there."
Her words flowed like a warm breeze, persuasive yet comforting.
"If you're uncomfortable staying with Tony, how about letting me adopt you instead?"
Worried Lemu might refuse, Pepper quickly added her own guarantees, layering promises like bricks to build a fortress of security.
"I'm reasonably well-off and can provide you with a comfortable life, excellent education, and a stable future. Everything will be supervised through the proper channels."
"And—" Pepper leaned in slightly, dropping the next part like bait on a hook. "I'll give you a $1,000 monthly allowance. You can buy whatever you want."
Pepper's words were understated.
In reality, as a personal assistant to one of the world's richest men, her income ranged between 8–15% of Stark's annual salary. On top of that, her constant access to classified information and strategic investments had made her a genuine wealthy investor in her own right.
Supporting one—or even several—dependents was hardly a burden. For her, it wasn't any harder than a regular household taking in a stray cat.
Even with Stark Industries currently navigating turbulent waters, Pepper remained financially secure. After all, no one sane puts all their eggs in one basket.
Wait… is this… an offer to be spoiled by a rich woman?
Lemu blinked, stunned. Was this some sort of bizarre sponsorship proposal?
No way. Stop messing around!
Stark cleared his throat pointedly, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife. He raised a hand and jabbed a finger toward Pepper.
"Don't talk."
Pepper simply smiled, exuding the patience and tolerance of a seasoned caregiver. Her expression seemed to say: Fine, you're the boss. Do as you please.
Stark shifted his focus back to Lemu, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that felt both practiced and insincere.
His voice carried the faintest trace of menace, like velvet wrapped around a blade.
"If you're not interested, fine. I'm not the type to force anyone."
"But if we're out of options…" Stark's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I'll have no choice but to hand you over to the authorities. They're very… capable people. Specialized, even. The kind who are trained to… watch over people like you."
Stark leaned back, arms crossed, but his words hung in the air like a lingering shadow.
"I can't just let you wander around like a stray. It's too dangerous—for you and everyone else."
"And let's not forget," Stark added, his tone turning almost casual, "I still owe you an exoskeleton suit. You can't just vanish before I deliver it, can you?"
He paused, his gaze sharp. "I still owe you an exoskeleton suit. You can't just disappear before I deliver it, can you? How am I supposed to hand it over if you vanish into thin air?"
Stark emphasized the words 'specialists' and 'care,' making Lemu's mind immediately flash to images of armed guards in black coats and lab researchers in sterile white uniforms.
By now, even Lemu couldn't feign ignorance.
Stark was wary—of Lemu's identity, his abilities, and the potential danger he posed to Earth. It didn't sound like something Tony Stark would normally worry about, but it was exactly the kind of thing Iron Man would consider.
And because there was a third party present, Stark had resorted to dancing around the issue instead of addressing it head-on.
To be honest, Lemu's fascination with the Mark II suit had already cooled. With the Great Sage by his side, there was no reason to believe he couldn't create something just as good—or even better.
But if Stark decided to push this into an all-or-nothing scenario, things could turn ugly fast.
Whether it involved taking Stark out or being exposed as an alien, Lemu knew there was no escaping the inevitable pursuit of the U.S. government.
He'd just come into billions of dollars, yet he hadn't even begun enjoying the luxuries of wealth. There was no way he was ready to trade that for a life on the run.
As for replacing Tony Stark entirely—absorbing him and mimicking his form…
The thought surfaced for barely a moment before Lemu crushed it.
He knew himself well. Selfish, opportunistic, heartless, and downright inhuman.
But he wasn't a monster.
Not eating people was one of the few principles he had left.
If he crossed that line, there'd be no coming back. His alien physiology, paired with an increasingly alien mindset, would make him indistinguishable from the creatures humanity feared most.
And it wouldn't stop at once or twice. The ease of achieving his goals through such a method would turn it into a habit—a dark spiral he wasn't ready to step into.
Besides, staying for now wasn't without its advantages. It gave him time to steer events in his favor, carving out opportunities to profit from the rise of Iron Man.
Given the circumstances, temporary cooperation seemed like the most pragmatic solution.
Lemu nodded lightly, his voice calm but firm.
"I don't have anywhere else to go, nor do I have an identity here. I do need time to adapt… but I have three conditions."
Keep power stones coming…