The good news was that the hotel's regular beach bonfire party was being held that night, and it would also be the first real battle between the Anti-Blond Alliance and the Blond Alliance.
As the sun sank beyond the mountains and the hazy moon slowly rose over the sea, night draped itself across the sky. On the beach, forever accompanied by the sound of waves, the enormous bonfire became the greatest source of light.
It seemed to be intentional on the hotel's part. The warm yellow glow of the bonfire, paired with the scattered dim lights along the beach and soothing music, spread a hazy yet suggestive atmosphere across the entire shore.
And under such circumstances, the Anti-Blond Alliance made its entrance.
Matching beach shirts, matching baggy shorts, matching flip-flops—yet every one of them carried an entirely different aura.
Sherlock spent all year shut away at home researching Alchemy. Under the moonlight, he was so pale he practically glowed. Combined with his delicate, youthful features, he looked like a vampire who had stepped straight out of a story, full of mystery.
John Wick was likewise impeccably groomed, his hair neatly slicked back. Paired with his stubble and the faint killing intent around him, he resembled a lone wolf, radiating a weathered yet dangerous air.
Although Captain America was also wearing a beach shirt, his explosive physique stretched what should have been a loose shirt into something resembling skintight clothing. Coupled with his upright demeanor, he drew countless eyes the instant he appeared.
There was even less need to mention Tony. That face represented wealth itself. His colorful beach shirt and the playboy's unruly smile were like poison, making people sink into them without realizing it.
Though Hawkeye could not compare to the men before him, the stern, serious, dependable aura