Sharp Fingernails!

What Chen Mo needs hasn't appeared yet. If we intervene too early, it could disrupt the original plot and create unknown variables.

So Chen Mo secretly sneaked into the Howlett Manor at night and installed a large number of hidden miniature cameras and listening devices throughout the manor, allowing J.A.R.V.I.S. to monitor him at any time.

He was waiting for a moment to arrive; only when something happened, when what he was waiting for appeared, could he begin to intervene and carry out his plan.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait too long.

One month later, Chen Mo was leisurely drinking coffee in the manor when J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice suddenly rang in his ears.

"Sir, James Howlett is ill, and Victor Logan is in his room with him."

Hearing this seemingly insignificant matter, Chen Mo's eyes suddenly lit up.

This is the scene before that crucial plot point in the movie.

After dismissing the servants, Chen Mo got up and returned to his study. He closed all the doors and windows before sitting down in the chair behind his desk.

"Give me live footage."

"Yes, sir."

As soon as J.A.R.V.I.S. finished speaking, a beam of light was projected from Chen Mo's wristwatch, unfolding in the air in front of Chen Mo to form a holographic projection.

The image shows a retro-styled yet luxurious room. Against the wall is a large European-style solid wood bed, and a boy of about ten years old, dressed in a beautiful red wool pajama, is huddled on the bed, coughing occasionally.

Opposite him, in front of the fireplace, a slightly older boy, but dressed in somewhat worn clothes, sat idly on a stool, casually trimming his nails with a small knife, occasionally saying a few words to the sick little boy in bed.

Chen Mo checked the time; it was four in the afternoon. In Chen Mo's memory, the scene took place at night. Although the sun sets relatively early in late autumn, there was still quite a bit of time left.

In the innermost room of the second-floor corridor at the Howlett Manor, a fireplace is ablaze with high-quality firewood felled from the Rocky Mountains, releasing a burst of heat that brings a spring-like warmth to the room during this cold season.

As the flames burned, time passed little by little, and the sky outside gradually darkened. Even with the firelight from the fireplace, the room still became dark.

"Victor, it's so dark!"

The little boy on the bed said in a weak voice.

"You're already thirteen years old, why are you still afraid of the dark!"

The boy sitting in front of the fireplace rolled his eyes upon hearing this, but still put down the knife in his hand, got up and walked to the bedside table next to the boy, opened the drawer, took out a box of matches, struck one and lit an oil lamp installed on the wall above the bed. The dim yellow light shone on the boy's face on the bed, making him visibly relieved.

Just as the boy was about to blow out the match, he caught sight of another oil lamp on the bedside table. Using the remaining flame from the match, he lit the hand-held lantern he used when going out at night.

The room also became a little brighter under the light of the two oil lamps.

A happy smile involuntarily appeared on the face of the little boy lying on the bed, James Howlett.

Victor shook his wrist to extinguish the match that had burned down to the base, turned around and walked back to the fireplace, sat back down in his chair, and took out the small knife he had used before to continue trimming his nails.

His fingernails seemed somewhat deformed, unlike the wide and thin ones of ordinary people that reveal the pale flesh underneath. Instead, they were narrow and thick, almost cylindrical, with sharp, pointed tips, like animal claws, and had an overall yellowish sheen.

At this moment, he was using that sharp little knife to continuously smooth the surface of his fingernails, cutting off the protruding sharp parts and trimming them to make them look as close as possible to normal fingernails.

However, because the structure of his nails is different from that of ordinary people, even after careful trimming, they are still noticeably different from others.

However, he persevered and continued to carefully trim it.

While trimming, he didn't forget to talk to James Howlett on the bed to keep him from getting bored.

Just then, James Howlett coughed several more times, and Victor couldn't help but look up at him and say something.

Why are you always sick?

Upon hearing this, James Howlett coughed a few more times and retorted without backing down.

"You were often sick when you were my age too."

Just then, the door to the room was suddenly opened, and a mild-mannered middle-aged man wearing a shirt and a waistcoat walked in.

Victor quickly stood up from his chair and hid the nail clippers behind his back.

Good evening, sir!

The middle-aged man glanced at him in surprise and nodded slightly in response.

Good evening, Victor. I didn't expect to see you here.

After the middle-aged man finished speaking, he continued walking towards the bed.

"I'm just keeping James company, sir, if you don't mind."

Victor remained standing by the fireplace and began to explain.

"You're very good."

The middle-aged man sat down by the bed, smiled and turned his head to praise Victor, then turned back to look at the little boy on the bed, placed his hand on his forehead, and asked gently.

"Son, are you feeling better?"

"It's still cold, Dad."

James Howlett said weakly.

"It's just a fever, not high."

The middle-aged man, John Howlett, the owner of the manor and the boy's father, offered gentle words of comfort.

You'll be fine by morning.

While the father and son were having a tender conversation, Victor Logan, standing behind them by the fireplace, had a complex expression on his face, a mixture of envy, sadness, and resentment.

However, his hatred did not seem to be directed at the two people in front of him.

"You always say that."

The little boy James Howlett, heard his father's usual words of comfort and complained softly.

John Howlett chuckled at his son's words and asked in return with a smile.

"Because you always get better, don't you?"

"Um."

James Howlett nodded slightly, agreeing with his father.

John Howlett reached for the medicine bottle on the bedside table.

"Come on, it's time to take your medicine."

Just then, a loud banging on the door suddenly came from downstairs, accompanied by a man's stern shout.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth was the name of John Howlett's wife, and also the mother of James Howlett, who was lying in bed at the moment. But no one knew why a man would come to someone else's house in the middle of the night, banging on the door and calling out the name of someone else's wife.