The Tsundere Prince and the Female Writer

The lighting in the corner of the Interstellar Wreckage Bar was kept very dim, and the sound-insulating force field filtered the noisy alien chatter into white noise.

A table of exotic alien delicacies gave off an appetizing aroma. Jaco, who had been sweating with fear because of Son Goku just moments ago, was now gnawing wildly on a tentacle that looked like a giant squid, completely abandoning his image. His face was smeared with blue sauce, and he had long since cast his apprehension to the winds, mumbling incoherently about how this dump was a total rip-off.

Son Goku held a glass of high-proof interstellar fruit wine, his gaze shifting between Tights and Jaco as he spoke with a tone of casual teasing.

"Since you spend all year traveling the universe for your research, and you have such a... well, 'super elite' by your side, you two are inseparable. Is there really nothing special going on between you two behind the scenes?"

Tights, who was in the middle of taking a drink, choked violently and began to cough.

"Cough, cough, cough... Goku, your train of thought is way too bizarre!" Tights scrambled for a napkin to wipe her mouth, pointing at Jaco—who was still frantically gnawing on the squid tentacle—with a look of utter disdain.

"Me? With him? Don't make me laugh! This guy is just a walking comedian. Aside from using his Patrol status to help me save on docking fees or providing me with material for the villains in my sci-fi novels, he's basically useless. If we actually run into danger, he runs faster than a rabbit! Even if my taste were that bad, I wouldn't date an alien who's obsessed with 'galactic justice' and acts like a middle-schooler!"

"Hey! Tights! What do you mean 'runs fast'? That's called a strategic withdrawal in the face of a powerful enemy!" Jaco dropped the tentacle, wiped his face haphazardly, and retorted righteously, "Besides, as a super elite, I shoulder the heavy responsibility of maintaining peace in the galaxy. I am a noble advocate of bachelorhood! Romance would only affect the speed at which I draw my gun!"

Watching the two of them skillfully expose each other's secrets, Bulma laughed until she was doubled over. Son Goku could see it too; this pair was truly nothing more than a duo of bickering friends.

After dinner, Tights acted as their guide, taking the two of them for a stroll around the space station.

"The Wanderer Space Station is chaotic, but some places are quite interesting." Tights pointed to the massive glass dome overhead. "For example, the Floating Garden over there; the plants are one-of-a-kind specimens rescued from destroyed planets. But we have to pass through this Industrial Corridor first to check out the ship parts in Area A."

The group walked and stopped intermittently. The moment they stepped into the Industrial Corridor, the atmosphere shifted. Neon lights flickered erratically, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of heavy oil and metallic rust.

"Hey, you lot, out for a stroll after a full meal?"

A sinister, mocking voice suddenly emerged from the shadows of a discarded shipping container.

The leader was none other than the Four-Armed Mercenary who had been stared down by Son Goku at the landing pad earlier. But this time, he wasn't alone; over a dozen heavily armed accomplices surrounded them, leveling dark, high-energy pulse rifles and blocking their path forward and back.

"There weren't many of us before, so I let you get the drop on me." The Four-Armed Mercenary spat on the ground, grinning hideously as he aimed his rifle at Tights. "Now, hand over the key to that Water Drop Ship and leave behind everything valuable you have. As for these two Earth girls... taking them back for the boys to have some fun with doesn't sound half bad."

"Robbery? They're actually trying to rob a super elite like me!"

When Jaco saw this formation, his large yellow eyes lit up. He felt that the chance to restore his glorious image had finally arrived!

He leaped onto a waste oil drum, spread his legs, put one hand on his hip, and struck what he considered a cool pose. Drawing his laser gun, he shouted, "Listen up, I am Galactic Patrolman Jaco! You interstellar scum, drop your weapons at once, or else—"

Bang!

The Four-Armed Mercenary didn't care for fair play. He lunged forward and swung a heavy metal rifle butt with brutal force.

The poor super elite didn't even have time to scream. Like a baseball hit by a home run, he flew over ten meters away, slammed into a metal wall with a loud clang, slid down to the base of the wall, rolled his eyes back, and passed out cold.

"Jaco!" Tights turned pale with fright and instinctively retreated behind Bulma.

"Heh, some 'patrolman' he is—just a clown." The Four-Armed Mercenary retracted his rifle butt with a look of contempt, his gaze sweeping greedily toward Bulma. "Little lady, now it's your turn—"

Before he could finish, his pupils suddenly constricted.

He realized that the black-haired young man's figure had suddenly become blurred.

"There's always someone who likes to ruin the mood at a time like this."

A cold voice rang out from behind the Four-Armed Mercenary without warning.

Before he could react—before any of the mercenaries present could even see the movement—a series of bone-chilling thuds erupted in the narrow corridor.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

It was as if a hurricane were rampaging through the crowd. The dozen mercenaries wielding heavy firepower were hit as if by a train traveling at full speed, their bodies sent flying backward.

Some were smashed into load-bearing walls, leaving human-shaped craters, while others crashed through ventilation ducts and were wedged tight by steel frames.

The leader, the Four-Armed Mercenary, suffered the worst fate. Son Goku had simply grabbed his arms and folded them downward; accompanied by the crisp sound of bone dislocation, the man's arms hung limp. He collapsed to the ground like a pile of mud, his vision blacking out from the agony, lacking even the strength to scream.

From the moment Son Goku vanished to the moment all dozen mercenaries fell, it had taken no more than the blink of an eye.

By the time Bulma and Tights regained their senses, Son Goku was standing in the center of the scattered mercenaries. He had one hand in his pocket and was casually dusting off his sleeve, as if he had merely kicked aside a few stones blocking his path.

The corridor was deathly silent, save for the crackling of electrical sparks.

Tights' mouth hung wide open. She looked at the mercenaries embedded in the walls and her brain simply crashed.

"Since when did Earth have experts like this? No wonder Jaco was such a coward back at the bar!" Tights swallowed hard, her voice trembling.

Bulma proudly hooked her arm through Son Goku's, her chin lifted slightly. "How about it, big sister? Is my taste in men much better than those unreliable novel materials you find?"

"This isn't just 'better,' he's a human-shaped nuclear bomb..." Tights slapped her forehead, the look in her eyes as she stared at Son Goku changing.

It was the fervor of a sci-fi novelist seeing rare source material.

"Hey, Goku! Are there more people with your strength on Earth? Can you introduce me to one? If I use a real person as a prototype for my new book, it would definitely be a massive hit across the universe!"

Son Goku looked at Tights' glowing eyes, and a thought occurred to him.

In the original story, Bulma and Vegeta ended up together. Now that Bulma was his wife, Vegeta—who was far away in the reaches of space—was about to end up a bachelor, and Trunks would never be born. This sister-in-law of his seemed like a pretty good candidate for a consolation prize.

"I don't think there are any left on Earth, because I don't really count as an Earthling."

Son Goku tapped his chin with his finger, looking at Tights with a playful smile. "However, if you're really interested, I do know someone."

"Who? Is he handsome? Is he as strong as you?" Tights' eyes shone like searchlights, firing off a barrage of questions.

"A guy with an absurdly high sense of pride."

The classic image surfaced in his mind, and a hint of a smile flashed in Son Goku's eyes. "He's the prince of our people. Although he isn't very tall and his hairline is a bit concerning... there's an unyielding tenacity deep in his bones. His combat power probably doesn't rank high in the universe right now, but in terms of potential, he's absolutely top-tier."

Son Goku paused, his tone playful. "What's the matter, big sister? Are you interested in a prince of a fallen nobility like that? If there's a chance in the future, I wouldn't mind introducing you two."

Tights stroked her chin, her mind already beginning to draft a script about a tsundere prince and a female writer's romance, her expression growing increasingly excited.

"That sounds full of tension! And he's a prince? Fine! I've noted this down, so don't you dare stand me up. Even if a romance doesn't happen, nabbing him as a free bodyguard and a prototype for a novel's male lead is a win!"

Bulma rolled her eyes from the side. Although she didn't know who that prince was, her intuition told her that if she really let her boisterous sister cross paths with that alien prince, the future of the universe would definitely never know peace.

"Alright, stop peddling your strange kin." Bulma pointed at Jaco, who was knocked out cold beside a waste oil drum. "Let's get Jaco back to his patrol ship first; we still have to head to Planet Yardrat."

Son Goku chuckled, walked forward, grabbed Jaco by the scruff of his neck like a chick, and dragged him toward the landing pad.