"...Huh. Looks like it wasn't powered off after all," he murmured, brows lifting.
Wasting no time, Alex swiped through the apps. First, the Gallery—a mix of selfies, random group photos, a few landscape shots. No one looked too familiar to him, but the main subject was clearly... himself. Or rather, the original Alex Rand.
"Okay, so the guy wasn't a total recluse..." he muttered, then flipped over to the Social Media app.
Username: @Alex_Rand_7
Bio: "Future Techie | Stark fanboy | Unemployed genius (for now 😎)"
Recent Post: "Just got accepted into the Stark Internship Program! Let's gooo 🔥 #StarkIndustries #NextTony"
Alex blinked.
"...You have got to be kidding me."
[Congratulations, Host. You've obtained a clue about the original owner of the body. Sending original memory package…]
Without warning, Alex gasped as his vision blurred. A blinding surge of heat lanced through his skull, forcing him to clutch his head as if it might split open.
"ARGHHH!" he cried out, stumbling backward as the overwhelming flood of information drilled itself into his mind. Images, emotions, memories—not his, but now part of him—poured in like a dam breaking.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
Alex collapsed into the bed, panting, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
"So… I'm Alex Rand," he muttered, dazed. "Just a recent university grad. Got into Stark Industries through that internship…"
He frowned, the aftershock of the memory wave still humming in his head.
"The original guy died in an accident," he murmured. "Poor bastard. Smart, but average… a tech nerd with nothing but hope and a mountain of student debt."
He scoffed. "Great. So I inherit a supervillain template but also someone else's debt-riddled life."
Swiping through the phone again, Alex double-checked the date.
"2005... Huh. So I've got three years before Tony becomes Iron Man."
He paused, brows furrowing. "Was there anything important that happened before that?"
Alex racked his brain, trying to recall everything he knew about the Marvel timeline—especially events before Iron Man's debut.
"The Red Room... yeah, Hawkeye helped Natasha kill Dreykov, and they thought they'd killed him... but he survived. Still, at least the Red Room was shut down—temporarily, anyway," he muttered, scrolling and thinking at once.
He searched for more, but no other major events came to mind before Tony's rise.
"Well, there was Blade and his vampire mayhem…" he mumbled, eyes narrowing, "but that ended in 2004. It's already over by now."
He let out a long sigh. "So all I've really got to work with is the Red Room… and that's not much help."
"I don't know where Dreykov is. Can't exactly go around asking about him without raising every possible red flag. And even if I did find him… I can't just kill him and loot his hidden villain vault."
He leaned back, rubbing his temples.
"Damn. I got isekai'd, and the first problem I face is money-related. What kind of cursed protagonist arc is this?"
He groaned. "And I swear I inherited the original owner's financial bad luck too."
Just then, the hospital door slid open with a soft hiss. A sharply dressed man stepped inside, walking with the casual confidence of someone who owned the place.
Alex blinked. His eyes widened slightly.
Tony Stark.
"You're awake—good," Tony said, giving him a once-over.
Alex blinked, trying to play it cool. Whoa. Tony freakin' Stark?
He sat up straighter. "Uh... hey. You're..."
Tony raised his brow as he looked at his confused face. "Yeah, I guess you're not feeling 100% if you don't recognize me."
"Well, since you're alive and conveniently have a bad case of memory loss," Tony said dryly, "I'll keep it simple. The internship application was real. The accident was unfortunate. And since I technically caused it…" He reached into his coat and tossed something onto the bed.
It was a slim, black envelope.
"Here. Ten million dollars. Compensation for the accident. Call it a goodwill gesture."
Alex slowly picked it up, blinking.
Tony's gaze sharpened a bit.
"And by goodwill, I mean: take the money, recover, and forget this ever happened. No press, no lawsuit, no courtroom drama. Just a quiet life, funded by Stark Industries."
Alex stared at the envelope, then looked up at the billionaire standing casually before him.
"This guy's definitely still in his pre-Iron Man playboy era," he thought.
Out loud, he said, voice steady but intentionally uncertain, "I… I can't possibly work at your company anymore. Not like this. My memory's gone. All I really remember is my name—Alex."
Tony gave a slight nod. "That's fair. Look, kid, here's the deal—I'll give you the ten million upfront… and, just to keep things smooth, an additional one million per month for the next year."
He held out a hand. "So, deal?"
Alex hesitated a moment, then nodded and shook his hand. "Okay. No lawsuit. No court."
Tony smirked, clearly pleased. "I like you, kid. Smart move."
He scribbled something quickly, then handed over a check.
"There. Twelve million—call it a clean slate. We no longer owe each other anything," he said, then turned and walked out.
A moment later, a sharply dressed woman walked in, clipboard in hand and an exhausted expression on her face. She looked like someone from Stark's legal or PR team.
She sighed. "From Stark's end, I'm here to make sure everything is clean. All your debts have been paid off. And from the total compensation package—22 million USD, we have added another 23 Million—you'll have full control."
She then added. "If anyone asks, you were skating across a crosswalk when one of Mr. Stark's cars came around the corner. That's all. Just say it was an unfortunate accident, okay?"
She paused, then leaned closer with a practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"If you do that, Stark Industries will continue to support you. Try to file a lawsuit or start digging around… well, let's just say there's a reason no one ever wins against Stark in court."
She stepped back, wiping a bead of sweat from her temple. "You were lucky, you know. If it wasn't for Mr. Stark's intervention, you might have died—even if the accident wasn't fatal."
She handed him another card. "There's 45 million USD in this offshore account. Yours now. Use it however you want."
With that, she turned and exited, heels clicking on the tile floor.