"Who are you? What's your name? What is your identity here?"

James asked, but then realized the other person was an Easterner and probably couldn't understand his English at all.

"Who am I? And where is this place?"

To James's surprise, the other person spoke in perfectly standard London English.

"You don't know? This is a private secret mine in South Africa. According to our investigation, illegal labor is being trafficked here to mine diamonds for black market trade."

"Why am I here? How did I end up being sold to a mine as a laborer? Who exactly am I?"

"It seems like you've lost your memory?"

James frowned and joked, "Are you really a human from Earth? Seeing the way you ran, I thought maybe an alien had arrived."

"Ethan Brooks! I think my name is Ethan Brooks!"

"You remembered?"

Ethan Brooks's eyes lit up, but then he shook his head. "I can't remember anything else."

"That's a pity. If you could prove your identity, we could send you home."

"Why was I sold here as a miner? Why can't I remember anything? Something incredible must have happened to me."

Ethan Brooks said thoughtfully. It was as if he had become a different person; the former air of weakness was gone, replaced by a pair of bright, intelligent, and perceptive eyes.

"Do you need help, young man?"

James looked at Ethan Brooks with concern.

After thinking hard for a long time, Ethan Brooks shook his head in frustration, his face full of regret. "Other than my name, I really can't remember anything. Sir, what do you plan to do with me?"

"If you have nothing to do with the bandits on the island, of course we'll let you leave freely."

"Leave."

Ethan Brooks murmured, "If I leave here, where should I go?"

James looked at him sympathetically. "First, find a job, and then try to slowly recover your past memories, poor child."

"But where can I find a job? Sir, could you... could you offer me a job?"

"A job? Oh my. Do you have any special skills? Maybe... maybe I can think of something."

Perhaps it was a sense of instant rapport, but James felt an inexplicable fondness for this well-mannered, cultured young man. Seeing him ask for help, he couldn't help but feel compassion.

"Sir, recently, you must have been living alone. You live frugally, and apart from smoking, you probably have no other hobbies. Also, you're left-handed."

Ethan Brooks observed James carefully for a moment and said.

James opened his eyes wide in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"There's no ring on the ring finger of your left hand, which is a sign of being single for Westerners. You have quite a few military ranks on your chest, so you can't be short of money, but your watch is old and the collar of your white shirt is a bit yellowed, which shows you live frugally. The middle finger of your left hand is yellowed and dark, a sign of frequent smoking, but it's on your left hand, which means you habitually smoke with your left hand. I guessed you are left-handed."

"Haha, that's amazing."

James laughed heartily. "Such keen observation and such a chain of reasoning—this is the first time I've seen it in real life."

"May I ask, what kind of work can I do?"

Recalling Ethan Brooks's astonishing running posture and incredibly agile mind, a bold idea suddenly popped into James's mind.

Chapter Four: A New Identity

Inside the United Nations Security Directorate building, James stared at the inspection report freshly printed from the computer, his mouth agape in shock.

"Subject: Ethan Brooks; Overall physical evaluation: super-excellent; IQ: 228."

James blinked hard to make sure he wasn't seeing things. An IQ of 228—this was simply unbelievable. Was this even a human brain? It was actually twice as high as Einstein's!

In the fully enclosed isolation room, Ethan Brooks sat alone on the sofa. For some reason, whenever he fell asleep, he always dreamed of a snow-white fox staring intently at him, its eyes bright and cunning.

Suddenly, the door opened. James walked up to Ethan Brooks holding a thick file, gazing at him intently.

"Do I meet your standards?"

Ethan Brooks asked calmly.

"If you join the Security Directorate, it means you must make a clean break with your past. Even if you remember the memories you've lost, you must forget them all."

"I've already thought about it. Since I was sold off to an African mine, my past situation must have been terrible. In other words, my memories may not be pleasant, and could even be tragic. Not remembering the past might actually be a good thing for me."