Hotel.
Inside the presidential suite, light filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains, drawing a straight path of light through the dust motes in the air.
Classic Pythagorean theorem.
Tornado of Terror slowly regained consciousness from a soft haze, opening her eyes. Her emerald green pupils were first bewildered, then sharpened by the unfamiliar, luxurious surroundings.
Where is this…
Memories, like a breached dam, came crashing down, overwhelming the dam of her reason.
The scorched earth in the outskirts of Z-City, the barbecue grill, that bald man with a simple art style, and…
Han Sen.
Tornado of Terror instantly felt a burning heat from the inside out, her toes curling in shame.
Subsequent memories transformed into a series of unspeakable images: fragile resistance, and then… endless surrender.
"Bastard… Hentai…"
Tornado of Terror bit her lower lip, her pearly teeth almost sinking into the soft flesh.
She pulled the blanket higher, burying her small body, leaving only a pair of emerald green eyes burning with fury.
Although it wasn't the first time, that guy was always so… reckless!
The smooth feel of the silk sheets only made her recall more vividly the rough, leathery texture of his large hand during their intimate moments last night, and the strong masculine scent of him that made her legs weak.
Consumed by fury, yet a subtle, indescribable ripple spread within her heart.
She threw off the blanket, her gaze sweeping over her body. On her fair skin, several ambiguous red marks were particularly glaring in the morning light.
On the bedside table, her iconic black slit dress was neatly folded, as if carefully ironed.
These damned details made her heart even more restless.
That man was sometimes an unreasonable devil, yet at other times he would show this perplexing meticulousness. This contradiction was just like her twisted personality.
Love and hate.
Tornado of Terror jumped out of bed barefoot and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, pulling open the curtains with a 'swish.'
Blinding sunlight instantly poured in, making her squint uncomfortably.
The sunlight spilled onto her petite body, coating her fair skin with a faint golden halo.
Her iconic emerald green curly hair was somewhat dishevelled, scattered over her shoulders, with a few unruly strands playfully sticking up, making her less sharp than usual and adding a touch of lazy charm.
"Today is a new day…"
She murmured softly, but her eyes suddenly sharpened.
"I must become stronger!"
Only by becoming stronger could she completely break free from that bastard's control!
Only by becoming stronger could she… could she stand by his side and walk alongside him.
This thought flashed through her mind like lightning, and Tornado of Terror's cheeks instantly burned, hotter than before.
"What am I even thinking?!"
She vigorously shook her head, as if trying to shake that tall, domineering figure out of her mind.
"Pervert! Scoundrel! Eight-pack-abbed Hentai!"
However, the more she cursed, the clearer the man's outline became. His deep eyes, which seemed to see through everything, the corner of his mouth that always held a mischievous smile, and…
The sense of security, both hated and irresistible, when he held her in his arms.
"Ah ah ah ah ah—!"
Tornado of Terror let out a silent scream, took a few deep breaths, and forced herself to calm down.
She picked up her phone from the bedside table; the screen lit up, showing several unread messages.
One was from the Hero Association, inquiring about the results of their investigation into yesterday's disaster in Z-City.
Another was from her younger sister, Hellish Blizzard, asking when she was free to have dinner together.
Tornado of Terror's fingertip hovered over the screen for a moment before she tapped open the Hero Association's chat box.
"Danger eliminated."
Concise, as always.
Then, she looked at Blizzard's profile picture, her eyes softening for a moment, but quickly becoming complex again.
In her current state, how could she see her sister?
"A bit busy lately, let's talk when I'm free."
After sending the message, Tornado of Terror tossed her phone back onto the bed and turned to walk into the bathroom.
Warm water poured from the shower, washing over her body, and attempting to wash away those annoying memories.
Her tense nerves finally relaxed a little under the steaming water.
She closed her eyes, letting the water droplets run down her long, curled Eyelashes, but her thoughts involuntarily drifted back to last night.
No! I can't let this continue!
I am the Tornado of Terror, the absolute ace of S-Class Hero, rank two!
How can I be led by the nose by a man, easily played in the palm of his hand!
"I must become stronger!"
She suddenly opened her eyes, looking at herself in the mirror, with a hint of allure still in her eyes and a mature aura emanating from her, and said each word clearly.
Only by possessing power that transcends everything can she reclaim the initiative, no longer be so easily bullied by him, and…
Make him taste what it's like to be bound by Psychokinesis, unable to move!
This thought rekindled a fierce fighting spirit in Tornado of Terror's eyes.
This shame, this unwillingness, would all become fuel for her to break through her limits!
…
…
Hero Association, Physical Fitness Test Center.
"Next, Saitama!"
As the examiner's slightly tired voice called out, a bald man wearing only briefs walked onto the field, yawning.
The contrast between his lean, strong, finely sculpted muscles, which seemed to contain explosive power in every fibre, and his extremely simple face was striking.
Sunlight streamed through the tall floor-to-ceiling windows, making his round bald head shine brightly.
"Weren't I invited by you guys? Why do I still need to take a test?" Saitama scratched his bald head, a look of pure confusion on his face.
Just a short while ago, he was still agonizing over the supermarket's weekend special, when two men in suits knocked on his door.
They spoke earnestly, saying that a "big shot" strongly recommended him to become an S-Class Hero directly, and repeatedly emphasized that the salary and benefits of an S-Class Hero were outrageously high.
Upon hearing this, Saitama immediately felt that becoming a professional hero, that troublesome affair, suddenly seemed to have meaning.
The accompanying staff member in a black suit pushed up his sunglasses and spoke in an official tone: "This is a necessary procedure, Mr. Saitama. Every hero needs to have detailed physical examination data on file."
"Ah, I see…"
Hearing this, Saitama couldn't help but scratch his cheek, looking troubled.
"The cabbage special at three o'clock, I wonder if I can still make it…"
The staff member beside him: "…Oh, this!"
Having worked at the Hero Association for a long time, they all knew that the stronger the S-Class Hero, the more eccentric they were.
For example, Metal Bat was a super sis-con, Watchdog Man basically stayed on all fours at all times, Child Emperor wasn't comfortable working without a lollipop…
But Mr. Saitama's eccentricity was also…
Quite unique.
-------------------------------
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