Nicholson, Leonardo, and Matt Damon made their way to the front deck.
There, they saw a long, winding line of girls stretching from the second floor down to the first, buzzing with excitement as they chattered nonstop.
The three lonely guys sidled up to eavesdrop on a few snippets:
"Martin is really that amazing?"
"He can make someone fly in just ten minutes?"
"No way, I don't buy it!"
"You better believe it. Nana and the others experienced it firsthand—it didn't even take ten minutes!"
"I just asked—five minutes tops, even for the longest one!"
"How the hell does he do it?"
"He must have some secret technique!"
"Is he seriously planning to take on all fifty of us by himself today?"
"Wow, that's gotta be a Guinness World Record, right?"
"The girls up front are making bets—seeing who can get Martin to come out (you know what I mean)!"
"This is getting interesting. I wanna see just how good Martin really is!"
Nicholson, Leonardo, and Matt Damon were left dumbfounded.
"This has to be fake. It has to be fake. They're in on it with Martin… yeah, that must be it…" Nicholson muttered to himself in a daze.
"Let's go check it out!" Leonardo's curiosity was off the charts.
The three climbed up the gangway to the second level of the yacht. All along the way, the girls they passed were eagerly chatting about Martin's "miracle." Not one of them noticed the three A-list stars walk by.
No—
Maybe they did notice, and just didn't care.
After all, what's a movie star compared to a god?
When they reached the second floor, they saw the deck was absolutely packed with women.
Aside from the partygoers, there was another group of women standing in a protective ring—feet apart, hands behind their backs—like bodyguards, tightly encircling a certain area on the deck.
Strange sounds were coming from inside that circle.
The three men tried to squeeze in to see what Martin was up to, but were stopped by the circle of women.
"His Majesty is in the midst of conquest. No outsiders allowed!"
One of the women declared sternly.
Nicholson froze, then pointed to his nose. "We're the outsiders? I paid for this whole damn party!"
The woman remained stone-faced and repeated, "His Majesty is in the midst of conquest. No outsiders allowed!"
"Is this part of the game too?" Matt Damon muttered.
Nicholson cursed, "Shit, there was no such scene in my game!"
Then suddenly, he broke into a wicked grin and said, "If this is some new game Martin cooked up, then what are we waiting for? Let's go, boys!"
With that, he charged toward the crowd.
Matt Damon and Leonardo laughed and followed suit.
But—
Even though they were men and technically stronger, they were outnumbered.
Worst of all, Nicholson was already sixty-five and out of steam. After two feeble shoves, he was completely exhausted.
Then, he watched in disbelief as the women effortlessly lifted him up and tossed him straight into the second-floor swimming pool.
"Oh, fuck you traitors! I'll punish you! I will punish you! I'm docking your pay!" he shouted, flailing in the pool—though he made no effort to climb out, since the "strong" women at the poolside were eyeing him like hawks.
Just then, from the middle of the crowd came a sharp cry, like a nightingale crying blood.
Voices burst into discussion.
"Whoa, Jana's done! How long did she last?"
"Four minutes!"
"No way, Jana's built like a tank!"
"Martin's even more built—did you see those muscles? Like flowing water!"
"Damn it, I can't wait any longer! I hope they finish up quickly!"
"Haha, I wish I could join Martin's Royal Guard too!"
"You only qualify once you've been conquered, sis!"
"Please, let it be my turn soon!"
While the women were chattering, Martin's voice rang out: "Docking pay? Hah! Whatever that old man deducts, I'll double it for you. Protect your king's privacy!"
"At your command, Your Majesty!"
The women encircling him replied in unison.
Another woman joined their ranks—it was Jana, who had just finished "the game" with Martin.
Old Nicholson was utterly disheartened. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't figure out how Martin had made these women obey his every word.
Then, he saw Matt Damon and Leonardo getting picked up by the "female guards" and tossed into the pool beside him.
Nicholson burst out laughing. "Ha! You guys didn't do any better!"
"At least I lasted longer than you, old man," Leonardo retorted.
"This is not fair!" Matt Damon shouted at the women on the poolside.
"This is very fair," Martin's voice called out, followed by another odd moan. "These angels are just expressing their gratitude for the bliss I've given them!"
"What now?" Leonardo asked.
"I got nothing. There's too many of them, and they're all in character—they really think they're Martin's royal guards!" Matt Damon said, thoroughly frustrated.
"How about… we dress up as women too?" Nicholson offered a terrible idea.
"No~!"
Leonardo and Matt Damon rejected him in unison.
"Then what do you suggest?" Nicholson spread his hands.
Matt Damon's eyes lit up. After scanning the area, he leaned in and whispered, "Isn't this yacht three or four levels high? If we head up to the third deck, we can look down and see what's going on!"
"Hey, great idea! Not bad, kid!" Nicholson patted him on the shoulder.
"What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Leonardo urged, his burning curiosity nearly impossible to contain.
The three swam to the other side of the pool and climbed out—thankfully, the guards didn't stop them.
They quietly slipped away, waited until the women lost interest in them, and then sneaked to the gangway leading to the third deck.
Once there, the three of them scrambled for the front rail, leaning over to peer down.
"What the fuck?!"
"Shit!"
"Damn you, Martin!"
They cursed in unison.
Why?
Because not only had Martin surrounded himself with layers upon layers of "female guards," he also had a massive sun umbrella—two meters wide and four meters long—completely blocking the area where he was stationed.
They couldn't see a damn thing.
"I'm gonna complain to Spielberg—who the hell puts a sun umbrella that big on a yacht?!"
"Can't see a thing. Not a damn thing."Leonardo stretched his neck, craning for a better view, but it was no use. All he could make out were two blurry shadows tangled together.