Chapter 17: Marvel Universe

Washington, D.C., United States, Library of Congress

Just half an hour later, he was back at the main entrance—because he had found the answer he was looking for.

Ever since learning that this world had a supernatural side, George had always wanted to understand its true nature. When he met Major Chester Phillips—though the rank was lower and the timeline earlier than expected—the name and 80% facial resemblance sparked his suspicion. He could've sent a Shadow Clone to verify, but he came in person.

And then he saw Wakanda listed on a map in the world geography section. That confirmed it: he was in the Marvel Universe.

It also explained why the Phillips he met was the same Colonel Phillips who would train Captain America over twenty years later. It also explained why his father and Ryan had seen Atlantean mermaids underwater.

George's knowledge of the Marvel Universe came from a few films and popular science posts online. From that, he saw only chaos—and extraordinary power.

The Marvel Universe includes Unitary Worlds, Multiverses, and possibly an Omniverse. George realized the people around him were unaware of the supernatural, meaning this wasn't one of the more chaotic timelines.

At least, he hadn't heard of mutants here. If they existed, their unpredictable powers would certainly have made headlines.

So as long as he didn't seek death, he could survive. During WWII, Captain America's powers were prominent, but George believed he could handle it.

Even the Sorcerer Supreme didn't worry him. From the movies, he knew she had defended Earth for centuries, foresaw Dormammu's invasion and Thanos's snap, yet was killed by a dagger—seeking a reason to retire. As long as George didn't interfere with her retirement, she likely wouldn't bother him.

His biggest concern was Thanos's snap. If he survived that long, he figured he'd be strong enough to face it. He also feared the Time Variance Authority—masters of time—and possibly the Eternals, protectors of unborn Celestials. Worst-case scenario: he'd leave Earth.

Reborn in such a thrilling world, with a "golden finger" system by his side, George was determined to live an extraordinary life.

Relaxed after figuring it out, George glanced back at the library. "A thousand-story building begins at the ground," he thought. Knowledge was always power. He stepped out, grabbed coffee at a corner café, and used the restroom.

Inside, he created five Shadow Clones, each altering their appearance before heading into the library to study—not randomly this time, but starting with biology.

He planned to major in biomedical science. In the Marvel world, many heroes had elite educations. Brains mattered. Iron Man, the so-called playboy, owed his achievements to intelligence. His reengineered Extremis formula was a prime example.

George bought a compass from a corner store and returned to the hotel. There, he unpacked his tools and materials and began modeling a battery prototype.

Evening came. Ryan knocked. George paused his work. Ryan glanced at the cluttered room but said nothing, only reminding him it was time. George changed into a presentable outfit, left three clones to continue working, grabbed a prepped gift bag, and left with Ryan.

They took the hotel car. At their destination, Ryan knocked gently. A man in his thirties, Italian in appearance and dressed in a suit, answered. As he opened the door, Pang Bo came out from within.

Pang Bo welcomed them. Introductions followed. The suited man was Paul Walker—Pang Bo's brother-in-law. Formerly a deputy general manager of a mining company, Paul had a bright future until the general manager framed him. He lost his job.

Now, with his family settled here, he planned to find work locally.

George was intrigued. He had a lot going on—novels, patents, a winery, and college on the horizon. Handling everything himself was becoming a burden.

He didn't want to rely entirely on Shadow Clones or risk attracting HYDRA before Thanos's snap. He'd been contemplating ways to lighten his load.

Paul seemed like a solution.

They began chatting. George found Paul capable and intelligent. He shared some management ideas from the future, sparking Paul's interest.

After dinner, the four of them sat in the living room.

"Paul, what kind of job are you looking for in Washington?" George asked.

Paul swirled his wine, smiling bitterly. "Mining's out. I was framed. But with my experience, I could find something, if I lower my standards."

"May I ask your previous salary?"

"Fifty dollars a week, with subsidies."

That was high. At the time, an auto factory worker made \$2.30 a day.

George nodded. "I can offer you sixty a week. Interested?"

Paul's eyes lit up. "What's the job?"

He glanced at Pang Bo, silently asking, "Is this for real?" Pang Bo stayed silent. He knew George smuggled wine, and figured Paul could decide if he wanted in. If caught, Pang Bo could smooth things over.

But George clarified, "It's legitimate. I have novels ready to publish and three patents with working models. I need someone to run the company. I'll be starting college in August."

"What are the patents?"

"One's a headrest. The other two are breakthrough battery tech. They'll revolutionize vehicle power systems."

"If you're in, come to the hotel tomorrow. I'll hand you the info and the responsibilities."

"You trust me with everything? What if I disappear?"

George laughed. "I trust you—or rather, I trust Pang Bo."

"Alright. I'll think it over and answer in the morning."

"Deal."

They toasted. Paul excused himself shortly after.

Once he left, George pulled an envelope from his coat. "Uncle Aisen, thank you for the introduction. Please accept this."

Pang Bo saw the thick envelope and shook his head. "I didn't do this for money. I just made an introduction."

"Still, it's a token of appreciation. Compared to what Mori and I gained, this is nothing. And we'll never run out of wine again, haha."

Pang Bo understood—they'd struck a big, likely long-term deal. He accepted.

They chatted a while longer, then left Pang Bo's home.

The next morning, the first to knock on George's door was Mori. Seeing the messy room, George took him to Ryan's instead.

Mori got straight to the point. "I've relayed your offer to Mr. Corleone. If you can deliver to every city we designate, we'll split profits proportionally."

"That's too much. I can only handle a few locations for now."

"A few? The Corleone family is large."

"Later, maybe. For now, just five cities—coastal or inland. Very few can deliver high-quality wine in large quantities like I can."

"How about a 3:7 split—you take three?"

"Impossible. I cover wine and transport. You handle sales. I should take seven."

After negotiation, they settled on an even 5:5 split. Both sides profited handsomely from the first batch.

They finalized distribution points: New York, Washington, Chicago, San Francisco, and Los Angeles. George received local contacts and addresses. Future profit shares would be settled in New York. Any changes require prior notice.

Finally, Mori passed along Mr. Corleone's invitation for George to visit when possible.

Once Mori left, George turned to Ryan. "Uncle Ryan, I want you to manage the winery. I need someone I trust. That place is going to be a gold mine in the next decade."

Ryan smiled. "Give me the address. When should I go?"

George handed it over. "Soon. Call ahead—they'll pick you up. I'll visit when I can."

"Alright. I'll say goodbye to Arthur, then head out."

They chatted briefly about the winery's affairs.

Then came a knock at the neighboring room. George excused himself and stepped out.

— End of Chapter 17 —

📝 Translator's Note

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