The Legendary Martin Garvey

“Martin, is there nothing you can do properly? Hurry up and serve the food.”

The sharp, impatient voice of a middle-aged woman rang in Martin Garvey’s ears as he prepared dinner in the kitchen.

“Yes. It’s ready.”

Martin carried out a tray with a large pot still steaming.

Although there were five people in this house, only four bowls were set on the table.

Martin, of course, was not included.

“Get out of our sight.”

Catherine Hayes waved her hand dismissively at Martin without even looking at him.

As usual, Martin only nodded before returning to the kitchen to fetch a plate containing his own dinner. Compared to the dishes they were eating, his portion was far simpler.

Not just this time—but every time.

He then walked toward a small table in the corner.

For three years as a live-in son-in-law in this family, he had eaten dinner alone, watching his wife and her family laugh and enjoy the food he had cooked.

But before he could sit down, his mother-in-law’s voice rang out again.

“Who said you could sit there? Get out of my sight!”

Her shout was loud and harsh.

Martin silently obeyed.

Before he could even take another step—

“Put that plate back on the table.”

“Mom, is it really okay to let Martin go without dinner?”

Once her husband was no longer in sight, Quinn Hayes finally spoke.

“Even if he dies, it’s none of my concern.”

Catherine looked indifferent. She did not even spare her daughter a glance.

“Quinn, I want you to listen carefully.”

She lifted her chin and stared sharply at her daughter.

“That man has been freeloading in our house for three years and hasn’t done anything.”

All this time, Martin had only worked as a janitor at the hospital where Quinn worked.

With a salary of merely two hundred dollars a month, it was certainly not enough to provide decent meals for this family.

“I don’t care how you do it. Within two days, that man must leave this house.”

***

Meanwhile, on the second-floor balcony—

“It should only be a few more hours,” Martin murmured, staring at the old watch on his wrist.

Looking up at the sky, his thoughts drifted back to what had happened three years ago.

At the national underground museum of Belvaria, a Middle Eastern country surrounded by endless desert.

“Sir, promise me—no matter what happens—you will never hand this item over to anyone.”

A man placed a nearly rusted watch into Martin’s hand. The black uniform he wore was soaked in blood.

“No.”

Martin gripped his comrade’s hand tightly.

“You must give it to the director yourself, Jack.”

“I can’t trust anyone right now.”

Jack leaned back weakly, a faint smile on his lips.

“Except you.”

Those were the last two words he spoke before his body stiffened, his smile frozen in place.

“Jack. Jack.”

Martin shook his comrade’s body. It did not move.

“Jack!”

Still no response.

Enraged, Martin grabbed the weapon from Jack’s hand and charged alone toward the armed group.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Shell casings clattered onto the floor.

Thirty minutes later, the museum lay in ruins.

Eleven survivors gathered outside, waiting for assistance.

When a helicopter landed, an elderly man in a black suit rushed toward them.

“Martin, you found the watch, didn’t you? Hand it over to me. Quickly.”

Martin was about to give it to him—when Jack’s words echoed in his mind.

That’s right, he thought. This man cares about nothing but this object. Why should I hand it to him?

“I’m sorry, sir,” Martin said steadily, his expression calm. “Unfortunately, we didn’t find anything inside.”

“What? Say that again!”

Grabbing Martin by the collar, the old man shouted in his face.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Idiot! Useless trash!”

The old man shoved him roughly.

“You’re all completely useless!” he barked, pointing at them.

They exchanged confused glances, unable to understand what had just transpired between their team leader and the director.

Before they could make sense of it, the old man spoke again.

“From today onward, this unit is disbanded. You will leave Belvaria and never meet or contact each other again—for the rest of your lives. Your identities will also be erased. Do you understand?”

For the next three years, not only could they not use their pensions, they were also forbidden from drawing attention to themselves.

Their brows furrowed deeply.

But as soldiers, they had been trained to respond with nothing but obedience.

“Yes, sir.”

“And one more thing,” the director added. “Never speak of what happened here.”

***

Those three years would end precisely at midnight tonight.

After that, he would no longer need to hold back or hide his identity as he had done all this time.

“Fifteen minutes left.”

Taking a deep breath, Martin kept his eyes fixed on the watch.

Three!

Two!

Dong—dong—dong!

The sound of the large clock echoed from downstairs.

Ding!

[Congratulations! Your black card is now activated.]

Just as a notification chimed on his phone, Martin reached into his pocket and pulled out a black card.

A card containing three billion dollars—his pension.

Rising from the sofa, Martin headed toward the first floor.

He wanted to repay what he had eaten over the past three years in this house.

That was when he heard their conversation.

“You’re willing to divorce your husband, aren’t you?”

Before Martin could take another step, another voice answered—

“All right.”

Quinn’s voice. Soft, but clear.