After Cloud successfully guided Wanda into creating her first "scarlet butterfly," the atmosphere on the top floor of Stark Tower became increasingly harmonious.
Wanda no longer shut herself in her room as before.
She began to venture out. Though she still didn't talk much, there was clearly more sunshine and confidence in her expression—something that belonged to youth. And the way she looked at Cloud had evolved from initial awe and dependence into the sort of adoring worship characteristic of a girl's first crush.
Natasha, meanwhile, had fully settled into her role as "personal lifestyle assistant."
She discovered that her heart—tempered through countless missions into something calm as still water—was being melted bit by bit by this man, in the most subtle, gradual way.
He would, when she was exhausted from missions, casually brew her a cup of "law-infused tea" for calming the mind and settling the spirit.
He would, when she woke from Red Room nightmares, hold her in a warm embrace just like before, with a simple "Don't be afraid, I'm here" to lull her back to peaceful sleep.
He would even, when she produced yet another piece of "dark cuisine," eat it with a straight face while joking: "I think your talent for biochemical weapons might be even higher than your talent for being an agent."
These seemingly casual shows of care and teasing were like feathers constantly plucking at the string in her heart called "heartbeat."
The mission Fury had given her—to probe for weaknesses—had long since been tossed to the back of her mind.
Now all she could think about was how to more deeply explore this man's unfathomable, fatally attractive "inner world."
And so, on a sunny weekend.
Using the excuse that it would "help him better integrate into (surveil) modern society and experience ordinary people's lives," Natasha extended to Cloud the first "date" invitation of her life.
"A date?" Cloud was lounging on the sofa, enjoying Wanda's chaos-magic-powered automatic page-turning service. "Sounds good. Where to? Shopping on Fifth Avenue? Or Wall Street to check out your stock market?"
"No." Natasha shook her head. Today she'd shed her tight agent uniform for a simple white dress, her fiery red hair casually draped over her shoulders—less sharp, more softly feminine and alluring. "Let's be like the most ordinary couple. Browse around, catch a movie, eat some popcorn. How's that?"
She wanted to see what this "god" would look like stripped of all his halos, walking among mortals.
"Ordinary couple?" Cloud's eyes flickered with amusement. "Sure. But I don't have any money, you know. I just arrived in this world—completely broke."
"...My treat." The corner of Natasha's mouth twitched.
She felt like she might be inviting a "god-tier" kept man.
...
The date turned out far more ordinary than Natasha had expected.
Cloud showed none of the airs of a "deity."
He was like a country boy visiting the city for the first time, curious about everything.
On the commercial street, he'd pull Natasha over to study the mannequins in shop windows with great interest, offering commentary like: "This color scheme is too bold. Back home, Shermie wearing this could definitely set fashion trends."
At the movie theater, he chose the hottest superhero blockbuster.
While the audience around them gasped at the protagonist's aerial acrobatics, Cloud was whispering critiques in Natasha's ear: "This protagonist's flying posture completely violates aerodynamics. Look, his core strength is too weak—obvious lag when turning. If K' back home wore this tin suit, he'd fly way better than this guy."
When eating popcorn, he complained the butter flavor wasn't rich enough. Then, with Natasha's "tacit approval," he secretly used a trace of K's flame power to give that bucket of popcorn a "secondary processing."
The result was a buttery aroma so rich and dominating that several rows of nearby audience members kept turning around, swallowing hard.
Throughout it all, there were various "god-tier critiques" and "little tricks."
Natasha discovered she didn't feel embarrassed at all.
In fact, she rather enjoyed this feeling.
It was novel. Relaxing.
She didn't have to play the omnipotent Black Widow anymore. She could just be an ordinary woman on a date with her somewhat "chuunibyou" boyfriend.
Yes—boyfriend.
That word had somehow surfaced from the depths of her heart.
What Natasha didn't know, however, was this:
While she was enjoying this "ordinary" sweetness, an invisible "shadow war" was quietly unfolding around them.
Ever since Cloud had taken up residence in Stark Tower, he'd become not only S.H.I.E.L.D.'s priority protection target, but also a thorn in the side of HYDRA—the organization lurking within S.H.I.E.L.D.
They couldn't understand this man's origins or assess his power.
All they knew was that this "traveler's" existence was the greatest variable in their "Insight Program."
And so, a top-secret surveillance operation targeting Cloud had begun the moment he stepped out of Stark Tower.
Three elite HYDRA strike teams—composed of their most enhanced, genetically modified operatives—tracked Cloud and Natasha from three different directions in seamless coordination.
They believed their operation was completely undetectable.
But to Cloud's Sovereign-level divine sense, their little movements were like three thousand-watt spotlights blazing in the dark night—glaringly obvious.
Sigh, honestly. Cloud chatted and laughed with Natasha while mentally sighing. Can't even go on a date in peace. These little bugs are so annoying.
He'd originally wanted to just blow them all into outer space with a gust of wind.
But on second thought, that would be too boring—and might scare Natasha, who was finally showing her feminine side.
So he decided to play a game.
A game called "Final Destination."
First "Unlucky Soul"
Agent A, codename "Ghost," was responsible for trailing from behind. He was HYDRA's foremost stealth specialist.
He could lower his heartbeat and breathing to minimal levels, blending into crowds like a true phantom.
Right now, he was following Cloud and Natasha at an unhurried fifty meters.
Suddenly, he felt something catch his foot.
He looked down. His pupils contracted sharply.
Both of his shoelaces had somehow tied themselves together in a perfect, inescapable butterfly knot!
...
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