The liner soon slipped away from the pier, waving off the last well-wishers on shore.
Saitama and Vivian, finally far from the city's noise, felt themselves exhale.
Night fell quickly.
A lively banquet unfolded on the cruise. During the party, the Hollywood actress with ocean-blue eyes—Ann Darrow—performed a short dramatic scene, trying her best to make everyone remember her name. But in modern Hollywood, where beauties are countless and audiences can't watch every release, how could a just-debuted supporting actress stick in people's minds?
Besides, to Saitama's eye, Miss Ann Darrow simply wasn't as stunning as Vivian.
Vivian herself didn't think so. She found Ann Darrow breathtaking—because of those ocean-colored eyes. If only she could have such enchanting eyes herself, then she could…
Heh-heh.
She glanced at Saitama beside her; the cool lines of her face softened into a faint smile.
When the banquet reached its peak, Vivian wondered if she should take the stage as well. After all, her family traced back to the guardians of King Arthur's era—practically British nobility—and her upbringing had been impeccable. Singing, painting, dance—she could handle them all.
With Saitama's nod, she stepped onto the stage.
The moment she appeared, a ripple of awe passed through the hall.
And the director who had duped Ann Darrow in "King Kong" stared at Vivian's face and thought—
The Ann he'd found… was far too lacking.
If he could lure Vivian to that mysterious island to shoot his film, the box office would explode.
"Director, have you taken a liking to Miss Vivian on stage?" the big-nosed screenwriter at his side whispered.
"So what if I have?"
"Your eye is impeccable! With Miss Vivian in the cast, I guarantee you'll be in the running for this year's top Hollywood award—the Oscar is all but yours!"
"Seriously?"
"Of course! Didn't you recognize her? She's the wife of the world's savior—Saitama!"
The director sucked a sharp breath. Only then did he wake from his daydream. "Heavens—she's Saitama's wife!"
At once, he grew excited.
Truth be told, he'd planned to shoot a low-budget picture with a newcomer on an island near Sumatra. The island was dangerous, rarely visited. But Saitama, the hero, was on this very ship. What more needed saying?
Time to grovel.
That very night, the director showed up at Saitama's cabin with a bottle of genuine 1982 Lafite.
"Hero! Hello, hero—could you open the door?"
Saitama opened up. A figure rushed in and… didn't leave.
Grabbing Saitama's hand, the director blurted, "Hero, allow me to introduce myself—I'm a Hollywood director, my name is—Carl!"
Saitama regarded him coolly, not sure why this guy's energy had flipped so suddenly.
"As you can see," Carl Denham rattled on, "we at Universal Pictures are about to shoot an adventure film. We'd found a leading lady… but after conferring with my associates, we agreed she can't carry so crucial a role."
"We wanted to replace her, but couldn't find the right person. Then yesterday I saw your wife—Miss Vivian. She dazzled everyone and fits the heroine perfectly. So I'm here to discuss…"
Saitama hadn't spoken—because his system had chimed again: Enter the altered "King Kong" plot.
He scratched his head. Lately the system had been chiming a lot.
"If you don't mind," Carl pressed on, "we'd like you to play the male lead, with your wife as the female lead. The entire production will be built around the two of you. What do you say?"
Now Saitama understood the sudden ping.
So this was it—One Punch Man x King Kong, the crossover no one asked for.
A brand-new cut, the likes of which you've never seen.
Was there even a script for this "new version"…?
Saitama stayed quiet long enough to make Carl fidget.
"What's wrong—are you unwilling?" Carl asked, ready to squeeze out a tear or two to plead his case.
"Let me think about it," Saitama said at last.
Hearing that, Carl brightened immediately. As he left, he pointed to the bottle of '82 Lafite. "Hero, that's my gift—to you and your wife!"
After Carl left, Vivian returned. She pushed the door open and blurted, "Saitama, I'm a little spooked. Some strange fellow kept smiling at me… and I think he just came out of our room!"
"You mean the Hollywood director?"
Vivian paused—right, he'd been the same person walking beside the blue-eyed Ann Darrow earlier.
"Huh? Why did he seem so… small? Totally different from how he looked at noon."
Saitama didn't bother explaining that it was the change in aura. In daylight they'd been simple tourists; a glimpse of a Hollywood director felt big and imposing. By night, when he needed something from them, his presence shrank on its own.
He patted the seat beside him and gently pulled her close. "Vivian, that director came to ask if we'd help him shoot a movie."
"And?"
"He wants you and me to play the leads."
Vivian froze, stunned. She'd always known Saitama was a hero who saved the world—cool and handsome. She hadn't expected him to be this cool, this handsome.
"Oh my God, Saitama—you never cease to amaze me."
Love shone in her eyes—now mingled with genuine admiration. For the man beside her, she was completely convinced.
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!]
[[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]