C14 You Are Letting Him off too Lightly!

A towering, pristine angel sculpture greeted visitors at the entrance of the Gabriel Hotel. As a Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled to a stop, a young man in a white suit approached with a sycophantic grin.

"Miss Melinde, it's been too long," he exclaimed.

Melinde's face twisted in distaste. "Hersh, how did you know I was here?"

"Surely you jest, Miss Melinde," Hersh replied smoothly. "After all, the Gabriel Hotel is part of my family's holdings." His smile deepened with feigned affection. "Besides, I've always taken an interest in your whereabouts."

Melinde's stomach churned at his words. She had met Hersh at a banquet and since then, he had clung to her like an unwelcome shadow.

"Aren't you repulsive?" she retorted, never one to mince words.

To her surprise, Hersh remained unfazed, nodding cheerfully. "No matter. I'm confident that one day you'll recognize my genuine feelings."

Hersh had been resolute since meeting Melinde, determined to win her over at any cost. The Lee family might have wealth, but it paled in comparison to the financial might of the Qingxuan family. Melinde, the cherished sole daughter, was the key to potentially accessing half of her family's empire—a meteoric rise to power.

In his pursuit, Mr. Flint had even taken up piano, an instrument he had no real passion for, all to curry favor with her. As he assisted her out of the car, he boasted with an ingratiating smile, "I've acquired a special Steinway for 30 million, just for you. Perhaps you could give me a few pointers later?"

Melinde could barely conceal her contempt. Her disdain for Hersh stemmed largely from his penchant for flaunting his wealth, a trait he displayed with embarrassing frequency. She knew that even a hundred Hershes couldn't rival her in financial resources; his attempts were futile.

By contrast, Cello Everett, though equally affluent, seemed indifferent to his riches. He never paraded his wealth, a quality that set him apart.

Cello Everett had an air about him that suggested money was the last thing on his mind. He never flaunted his wealth, and in fact, Melinde Kawakami could see he didn't even give it a second thought. It was this quality that made him stand out as truly unique. The realization made Melinde's cheeks flush with an involuntary blush.

Just then, a voice cut through her thoughts. "Hey, are we going to be able to get in or what?" Cello Everett's brow furrowed with impatience. He was here to attend the exclusive Super Eatery event, not to endure Mr. Flint's drivel.

Melinde offered a bitter smile. It wasn't just money Cello Everett was indifferent to; he didn't seem to care about her either. Yet, the more indifferent he was, the more determined she became. She was resolved to make Cello Everett fall for her and execute her plan for revenge in a blaze of glory.

"My apologies, Mr. Everett," Melinde said softly, her voice tinged with regret. "I promise to make it up to you once this is all over."

Mr. Flint's face darkened. He had brushed off Melinde's public rebuke as nothing, but now he was seething. Why was there a man in Melinde's car? And what had he just called her? 'Hey'? Mr. Flint had known Melinde for ages, yet he had always addressed her formally. But Cello Everett? He spoke to her as if she were his servant.

What truly rattled Mr. Flint was Melinde's reaction—she wasn't the least bit upset. She even referred to him respectfully as 'Mr. Everett' and spoke of compensating him later. How exactly did she intend to compensate him? In bed, no doubt! Mr. Flint was livid. He had pursued Melinde tirelessly, yet she had never shown him the tenderness she seemed to reserve for Cello Everett. To her, Mr. Flint was either repulsive or someone to be dismissed. But around Cello Everett, she was utterly transformed.

Mr. Flint clenched his jaw in frustration, eager to uncover the mystery behind Cello Everett. But when he saw the person who emerged from the car—a young man with black hair, dressed plainly—Mr. Flint felt a murderous rage. This kid was worth less than five hundred yuan in his eyes. How could he possibly compete with Mr. Flint? As Mr. Flint's expression soured, his cronies quickly gathered around him, sensing the storm brewing.

"Do you want us to take care of that punk, Mr. Flint?"

"No need for now!"

Mr. Flint hadn't lost his cool.

He wouldn't dare pull anything with Melinde watching.

But...

That didn't mean he was out of options!

Mr. Flint flashed a grin.

"Mr. Everett, was it?"

"I was just discussing pianos with Melinde. Outsiders might find it dull, my apologies!"

Melinde's frown deepened at Hersh's direct address.

But to avoid delaying Cello Everett, she held her tongue.

Cello Everett simply ignored Mr. Flint.

Why should he bother with every piece of trash that crossed his path? He'd be dead from the effort!

Mr. Flint, however, believed he had pinpointed Cello Everett's vulnerability and smirked with self-satisfaction.

How could a kid in flea market clothes know anything about pianos?

"By the way, the Steinway I mentioned earlier is a piano brand."

Mr. Flint said with a sneer.

"Mr. Everett, surely you're not ignorant of that?"

His tone had shifted from passive-aggressive to outright mockery.

"Damn it, are you asking for trouble?"

Saitama was not one to mince words.

Fist raised, he was ready to put Mr. Flint, who lacked any semblance of respect, in his place.

"Saitama!"

Cello Everett intervened, "Remember, he's not worth the effort of throwing a punch."

Would he waste a punch on Hersh, the same punch that could take down Boros in one hit?

That would be letting him off too easy.

With that, Cello Everett turned away coldly.

He hadn't wanted to engage with Mr. Flint initially.

But if the man was hell-bent on digging his own grave...

Well, he couldn't be blamed for what came next!

Seeing this...

Saitama's eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Melinde cast a pitying look at Mr. Flint.

This guy was surely going to regret tangling with Cello Everett.

After all, the last person who did was now a permanent resident of the public restrooms.

30 tons.

An impossible amount to shift in a hurry!