A commotion reached Randall's ears, and his expression changed drastically.
Without even looking back, he took off running.
But then another commotion erupted ahead of him.
His face went pale with fright, and he hurriedly changed direction.
Yet there was still a commotion ahead.
For a moment, Randall felt surrounded by ambushes, caught in an inescapable net.
I'm done for!
Now, the only safe way out was up.
But just as he prepared to flee using Geppo, a crowd had already surrounded him.
If he forced his way out, very few people in all of Marine Headquarters could actually stop him.
The problem was that the people surrounding him were a crowd of gorgeous female soldiers, some strikingly gallant, others with faces as tender as spring waters.
Randall simply felt that forcing his way free might hurt them in the process, which would be very detrimental to fostering a healthy culture within the Marines.
Yes, he had absolutely no ulterior motives. He swore.
So Randall decided to learn from the Buddha, who had cut off his own flesh to feed an eagle. If he didn't enter hell, who would? Let the storm rage harder!
Only after an hour did the commotion gradually subside.
It wasn't because the female soldiers wanted to disperse, but because Tsuru had come to chase them away...
Their reluctant parting gazes seemed to have hooks in them, as though they wished they could reel Randall away.
By now, Randall looked haggard. His hair was a mess, his clothes were disheveled, and most conspicuous of all were the countless lipstick marks on his face.
He watched the female soldiers retreat with lingering dread and shivered.
That lingering dread wasn't because of those crazed female soldiers.
All right, they were part of it.
Mostly, though, it was because