"Waaah! Waaah—!!!"
A baby's cry, so loud it could almost lift the roof, suddenly burst from the delivery room. It was like an invisible shockwave that made everyone in the corridor tremble, all of them staring blankly at the one hospital room, several of them wanting to go in and see what was happening.
But one man stopped them.
Seeing the figure with a grave expression, radiating killing intent, the crowd unconsciously began to back away, eventually leaving as if nothing had happened.
The man who stopped the crowd was Vegeta!
He had been standing there like a stone statue for who knows how long, his clenched fists already cracking.
Only when this cry announcing a new life was heard did his almost-stagnant breath finally loosen, and his sweaty fists slowly relaxed.
Almost a second after the crowd retreated, the door to the delivery room was violently pushed open by him.
Vegeta moved as fast as the wind, "swooshing" inside. His speed was definitely no slower than when he launched a surprise attack on a strong enemy.
The smell of disinfectant in the hospital room was mixed with a hint of blood. A nurse was carefully holding a swaddled baby, and the infant in that swaddle was his, Vegeta's, only bloodline.
His gaze passed over the nurse and landed on the hospital bed.
Launch, who had just given birth, was lying there. At this moment, this usually spirited woman's face was frighteningly pale. Her long golden hair was stuck to her temples and cheeks with sweat, and her whole person exuded a sense of complete exhaustion, her eyes even a little dazed.
Vegeta's lips moved. The awkwardly caring words he had been brewing for so long had not yet been formed when Launch's tired voice came first.
Although her words were a bit weak, their content still carried her unique feistiness. "Ugh... I... I'm never giving birth again... it... it hurt so much... my whole body feels like it's been reassembled... so tired... I just want to sleep..."
Vegeta walked silently to the bedside. His gaze first fell on Launch's sweaty face, then on the small, wrinkled baby in the nurse's arms, who was waving its small fists.
He almost "snatched" the small bundle from the nurse's hands, but he was also exceptionally careful.
Although his movements were stiff, he tried his best to be gentle.
When Launch heard the movement and turned her head with effort, she saw the tiny person in Vegeta's arms. The fatigue and complaints in her eyes were instantly replaced by a strange radiance.
Launch struggled to sit up a little. With the nurse's help, her voice was weak but urgent. "Quick... let me see..."
Vegeta silently handed the daughter over. After Launch had carefully taken her, she gently pressed her face against the baby's soft little cheek. Feeling the warm, soft touch, a gentle smile that Vegeta had never seen on her face before blossomed, a smile filled with an indescribable happiness and satisfaction.
Vegeta stared at this scene, his eyes a little dazed.
The Launch in his memory, especially in her blonde state, was always boisterous and unruly. When had she ever had such a... motherly side full of radiance?
Launch noticed Vegeta's undisguised surprise, and a rare blush appeared on her cheeks.
She glared at him with some shame and anger. Although her body was weak, her tone still tried to regain its former feistiness. "Wh-what are you looking at! H-haven't you seen me before! O-of course... I have to be a little gentler... with my own child..."
Vegeta said no more, just took a green bean from his pocket and held it to her lips. His tone was still that cold tune, but it inexplicably carried a hint of imperceptible awkwardness. "Eat it. After you eat... we're going home!"
Launch's eyes instantly lit up when she saw the Senzu Bean, and she muttered under her breath, "You stupid man, you didn't take out such a good thing earlier, making me suffer for so long..."
Although she said that, she opened her mouth without hesitation and swallowed the Senzu Bean.
The nurse, who had been busy recording Launch's data, was instantly alarmed. She rushed forward to try and stop them. "Hey! Sir! The mother has just given birth and is very weak. She can't just eat anything! What did you give her? Spit it out, quick!"
But before she could finish, a dumbfounding scene occurred!
Launch, who had just been lying on the bed, struggling to even turn over, suddenly did a kip-up and jumped right off the hospital bed!
Her movements were so clean and swift!
She energetically tore off the blue and white striped hospital gown and, in a few moves, changed into her own slightly wild-styled casual clothes. The whole process took less than ten seconds!
Where was the slightest hint of weakness on her face now? She was even more full of life than before giving birth!
"Haha! I'm back!!!"
Launch stood with her hands on her hips and let out a powerful laugh. "Vegeta! Hold our daughter, we're going home! I don't want to stay in this godforsaken place for another minute!"
Vegeta steadily took his daughter and stood up to walk out.
The nurse was stunned by this scene that defied medical science. Seeing that this strange pair of parents were really about to leave, she quickly rushed up to block them, her voice even tinged with tears. "No! Absolutely not! The baby has just been born and is very fragile. She needs to stay in the hospital for observation for at least a few days! You can't..."
Vegeta frowned with great impatience. He couldn't even be bothered to explain and just reached out with his free hand, picked up the nurse by the back of her collar like a chick, and placed her to the side, his tone filled with his characteristic arrogance and impatience. "Hmph! My, Vegeta's, child will not be as fragile as you Earthlings! I'll be teaching her how to fight in a few days!"
After speaking, he held his tightly wrapped daughter steadily in his right hand, took the still-excited Launch with his left, and, ignoring the nurse's anxious but helpless shouts, strode out of the hospital room without looking back.
The nurse's helpless calls still came from behind. "Doctor! We have a problem! Doctor..."
The two of them did not take the normal route but went directly to the hospital's empty rooftop.
The wind in North City was cold. Vegeta looked down at his tightly wrapped daughter in his arms, then at Launch, who was only wearing thin clothes.
He frowned and, with a "rip," he tore off the upper part of his own Saiyan battle armor, carefully wrapping the still-warm fabric layer by layer around his daughter's swaddle, ensuring it was airtight.
"Adina..."
Vegeta looked at his daughter's peaceful, sleeping little face and whispered the name he had just chosen for her.
Adi, in the Saiyan language, means "elite," "warrior."
Na symbolizes "storm."
This name carried his extremely high expectations for his daughter!
The image of that idiot Kakarot and his son, Son Gohan, unconsciously appeared in his mind, and a disdainful curve appeared on his lips. "Hmph! That idiot Kakarot actually let his son learn that Earthling knowledge, to study hard? What a waste of his Saiyan fighting talent! As expected, a low-class warrior is a low-class warrior, so short-sighted! My, Vegeta's, child will definitely become the strongest warrior in the future! My Adina is the best!!!"
"Hey! Vegeta! What are you staring at? Are we going or not!"
Launch's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Although the Senzu Bean had restored her body, standing in the cold wind on this rooftop was not a comfortable thing. Her patience was now being rapidly depleted by the cold weather of North City. "I don't want to drink the cold wind here!"
Vegeta came to his senses and carefully handed his even-more-tightly-wrapped daughter back to Launch.
Then, with a low cry from Launch, he bent down, put one arm under her legs and the other around her back, and lifted her steadily in a standard princess carry.
"Hold our daughter steady."
Vegeta said in a low voice, and then his aura suddenly erupted, a white flame instantly enveloping the family of three.
"Boom!"
With a sonic boom, the three of them instantly turned into a streak of light and shot into the sky, disappearing over the horizon in an instant.
Almost a second after they had left, the door to the rooftop was slammed open with a "bang," and several doctors and security guards rushed in, looking around nervously. "Where? Where is the person who was about to jump off the building just now?!"
The leading security guard pressed the walkie-talkie to his ear, and the stuttering, disbelieving voice of his colleague from the surveillance room came through. "They... they... fl-flew away!!! For real! I just saw them... they just flew up into the sky and disappeared!!"
The few people who had rushed to the rooftop looked at each other, their faces all saying, "Are you kidding me."
"That guy in the surveillance room must have been drinking cheap liquor!" one of the guards muttered, a statement that everyone unanimously agreed with.
In a godforsaken place like North City, it was too normal to have a couple of drinks to warm up in the cold weather.
Yes, he must have been drinking cheap liquor!
...
Meanwhile, in West City, at the Briefs' estate.
At this moment, a subtle atmosphere filled the living room.
Several people were holding cups of black tea that Vados had just brewed. It was said to be the result of her specially going to learn from Whis.
Whitley took a small sip. Hmm... the taste is mellow, but he really couldn't taste any difference from the tea that Bulma usually made casually.
He casually put down the teacup and lay on the soft leather sofa, completely drained. He felt like a dried salted fish at this moment.
"Sigh..."
He sighed silently. The past few days had indeed been a bit tough for him.
Ever since he and No. 21 had been "accidentally" caught red-handed by Bulma in the master bedroom a few days ago, he had spent a huge amount of energy to barely appease Bulma's anger.
The price included, but was not limited to, a strained lower back and a sincere apology that had almost worn his lips out.
It wasn't completely useless, though. At least now, when Bulma saw No. 21 wandering around in her black and white maid outfit, she would no longer immediately start the sarcastic remarks mode or just slam the door and leave.
But, it was only that she no longer openly mocked her.
Who knows how Whitley had gotten through the past few days!
Every time he and Bulma were getting along well, the atmosphere harmonious and loving, No. 21 would always appear at the right moment!
She would walk over with light steps, bow slightly, and ask in her timid and soft voice, "Lord Whitley, are you tired? Would you like me to give you a massage?"
Or...
"Lord Whitley, are you sleepy? Your No. 21 has already warmed the bed for you."
And at times like these, the originally gentle smile on Bulma's face would instantly freeze, and then quickly turn into a "kind" expression that was not a smile at all. Her eyes would shoot towards Whitley like small knives, and her tone would be as sarcastic as it could be. "Yo~! Our Lord Whitley~ you get tired so easily when you're with me? Is it because I'm too boring and can't keep you interested? Hmm? How about we just sleep in separate rooms? That way you can have some peace and quiet, and not get so tired!"
And then Whitley would have to start a new round of comforting, explaining, promising...
And every night now, he had to work hard until the middle of the night!
Trying to prove with his actions that he was definitely not tired and that his energy was abundant!
Only in the past few days, under Whitley's dedicated efforts, had Bulma's attitude finally improved a little bit, and the low-pressure alarm in the house was temporarily lifted.
But Whitley felt like he was about to be hollowed out!
He just wanted to quietly drink a cup of tea and then go back to his room for a good nap.
Having too many women was a blessing, but it was also... a burden! This was not the first time he had doubted his Saiyan constitution!
Just as Whitley was having an existential crisis, Bulma's phone, which was on the coffee table, suddenly rang.
"Hello? Launch?... Ah? You just gave birth and left the hospital today?! What on earth happened? Are you crazy?! Can your body handle it?!"
Bulma's voice instantly rose, filled with shock and worry.
Launch's carefree, loud voice seemed to come from the other end of the line.
Bulma listened, her brow furrowing tighter and tighter, and she would occasionally let out a "that's just reckless!" cry of alarm.
By the time the call ended, Bulma was holding her phone, her expression flickering.
One moment she was worried, the next she was a kind of... envious and anxious?
Then Bulma turned around, her gaze fixed on the slouched Whitley on the sofa. She walked over step by step, her expression growing more and more serious.
Whitley's heart went cold at her stare, and an ominous premonition instantly welled up.
Sure enough, Bulma stood before him, her hands on her hips as she began her interrogation. "Vegeta and Launch have a child! Goku and Chi-Chi are even preparing for a second one!"
Her tone was filled with clear anxiety and dissatisfaction. "Whitley! I'm asking you, what's wrong with you? How can you be so useless! We've been together for so long, and I'm not on any birth control, so how come my stomach is still completely quiet?!"
The more she spoke, the angrier she got. Her suspicious eyes scanned Whitley up and down, and finally, her gaze landed on a certain indescribable part of him as she said something shocking. "Could it be... the problem is with you? Is it a physical problem?!"
"PFFFT—COUGH COUGH COUGH!!!"
Whitley nearly spat a mouthful of black tea right in the face of the Vados opposite him!
He was so choked by Bulma's words that he coughed repeatedly, his face almost turning red.
No. 21 at the side reacted quickly and immediately took out a tissue to wipe the corners of his mouth and the water stains on his chest. Whitley irritably retorted, "Cough cough... you... you woman! What kind of crazy things are you thinking about all day?! How could it be my problem! I'm very healthy! Very healthy! Super healthy, okay?!"
Whitley was helpless.
What was this all about? Was having a child something that could be forced? And besides, he had absolute confidence in his powerful Saiyan genes!
However, Bulma, who might have just been complaining casually, was stimulated by the news of Launch giving birth, and it was as if a certain thought had suddenly been awakened! Her expression became more and more serious, and her eyes grew more and more determined.
She suddenly reached out and grabbed Whitley's wrist. "No! Words are not enough!"
Bulma said decisively, "Let's go! You're coming with me to the hospital right now! We're doing a full check-up! I want to see the hospital's report!"
Whitley's wrist trembled, and he instantly broke free. "I told you, I'm fine! What's the point of going to the hospital! If you have nothing to do, why don't you go and study the time machine? Didn't you already get the construction technology for the time machine?"
He was a mighty candidate God of Destruction, a being with the status of an angel... and he was going to be dragged to a hospital for that kind of check-up?!
If word of this got out, would he, Whitley, have any face left?!
Just as he was trying to resist and change the subject, Vados, who had been quietly sipping her tea at the side as if she were out of the picture, suddenly and gently put down her teacup, making a crisp clinking sound. "Whitley-san, I also agree with Bulma-san's proposal."
Whitley whipped his head around and looked at Vados in disbelief.
She was actually supporting Bulma? Weren't the two of them always at odds with each other? Th-this... has the sun risen from the west?
Vados met his shocked gaze, her face still wearing that perfect, gentle smile, but the words she spoke made Whitley's scalp tingle. "Lord Whitley... the Grand Priest has already thought of several versions of names for our future children. It's not good to keep the old man waiting, don't you think?"
Whitley: "..."
He felt as if something was stuck in his throat.
Th-this... she even brought out the Grand Priest?!
And what was even more devastating was yet to come.
No. 21, who had been standing at his side, her head bowed, meekly playing the role of a well-behaved maid, now timidly raised her head. Her sky-blue eyes were filled with a hint of struggle, but in the end, she still spoke up in a small voice. "L-Lord Whitley... that... I think... Miss Bulma and Lady Vados have a point. This kind of matter... concerns... offspring... it really can't be taken lightly... it's better to go for a check-up... to be safe..."
Whitley immediately looked at No. 21 with a heartbroken expression.
Even you, the most obedient little maid, have betrayed me?! What happened to being a hundred percent obedient?! You really are the evil No. 21!
Faced with this scene of utter betrayal, Whitley was filled with grief and indignation. He shot to his feet and, with a tragic air of a warrior cutting off his own wrist, he reached out, held Vados's and No. 21's faces, and under their astonished gazes, he fiercely! and with a hint of revenge, kissed each of them!
"Hmph! If we're going, we're going!" he said fiercely, as if to get his own back.
Then he turned and, with heavy steps, followed behind Bulma, who had already started walking towards the door.
Before leaving, Bulma turned back and glared at him, the meaning in her eyes clear: If you dare to run away, you, Whitley, are dead!
Watching Whitley's departing back, Vados elegantly picked up her teacup to hide the faint smile on her lips.
No. 21 clutched her kissed cheek, two red clouds flying up on her face, her eyes flickering, her thoughts unknown.
...
On the other side, at the suburban headquarters of Prince Logistics.
No. 18 had just finished the last document on her desk. She looked at the time and, in a good mood, prepared to leave work early.
She had made plans with No. 17 and the others today; they weren't going to eat in the cafeteria tonight.
The group of androids was planning to go out for a good meal and improve their diet.
She had just picked up her coat when there was a knock on her office door.
"Come in," No. 18 said casually.
The door was pushed open, and an unexpected figure appeared at the entrance of the secretary's office.
The visitor was wearing a smart set of work clothes, a gentle but somewhat distant smile on her face.
It was Future Bulma!
Seeing her, No. 18's brow furrowed subconsciously, and her eyes were filled with confusion. "You... why are you here?"
Her tone carried a clear rejection. "I remember that you and that blue-haired Trunks are supposed to really dislike, and even hate, us androids, right? Why did you come to find me on your own initiative today?"
Future Bulma did not answer immediately. Instead, she first looked around the crowded office with some curiosity, and the slightly busy scene of the company in the corridor.
In her desperate future world, there was no such vibrant company.
A hint of emotion even flashed through her heart. 'To think that the me of this peaceful era could think of starting a delivery company, and even pull in the androids, Saiyans, and these guys to work... this idea... is truly genius!'
Under No. 18's strange gaze, she composed herself and looked at No. 18 again, smiling. "I've come here... because I do have some important business with you specifically, Miss No. 18."
She paused, her gaze sweeping around. "This is not a convenient place. I was thinking... we could find a quieter place to talk?"
No. 18 stared at Future Bulma, her icy blue eyes as if they could see through her thoughts.
Suddenly, she smiled, a smile that was both playful and knowing, and her tone became relaxed. "Heh... I know why you're here."
She took a few steps forward, approached Future Bulma, lowered her voice a little, and said in a teasing tone, "I know you've fallen for a certain man, but let me make it clear, I'm not willing to be your wingman. If you still want to chat with me after knowing this..."
She paused and, turning, naturally grabbed a male employee who was rushing past with a pile of documents. "Is conference room three in use right now?"
The employee was suddenly grabbed by the company's widely acknowledged ice queen and chief secretary and was a little flattered. He looked away, but couldn't help stealing glances at No. 18, and stammered in reply, "Y-yes! Chief Secretary No. 18! C-conference room three is empty right now, no department is using it!"
"Thanks."
No. 18 nodded and let go, not even looking at Future Bulma, and walked straight towards the elevator.
Future Bulma watched this scene with great interest.
She had not expected that No. 18's status in this company was not low, and she even seemed to be... quite popular? But with such a cold and beautiful appearance...
No wonder Whitley was so fond of this android lady.
She silently followed in No. 18's footsteps and noticed that the male employee that No. 18 had questioned was still staring foolishly in the direction No. 18 had left, even after the elevator doors had closed, completely not noticing her, the mature version of the president's, existence.
After the two of them had arrived at conference room three, No. 18 closed the door behind her and then very casually sat on the smooth conference table, her two long, slender legs wrapped in alluring black silk crossed, swinging back and forth, her posture lazy and a little provocative.
She lifted her chin, signaling for Future Bulma to speak now. "What is it you want with me?"
Future Bulma did not mind No. 18's slightly rude posture.
She first walked to the door to confirm that it was closed, then took off the rather large travel bag that had been on her back and placed it on the conference table in front of No. 18 with a dull "thud."
"This is?"
No. 18 was stunned by the bulging travel bag, a look of confusion on her face.
Future Bulma did not speak. She smiled slightly, reached out, and with a "swoosh," she unzipped the backpack.
Instantly, a large patch of golden light almost blinded No. 18!
The backpack was filled to the brim with neatly stacked gold bars!
Under the bright lights of the conference room, they reflected a tempting and extravagant glow!
No. 18's somewhat cold, icy blue eyes couldn't help but widen slightly, a hint of unconcealable surprise in them.
"This is ten kilograms of gold," Future Bulma introduced in a calm tone, as if she were talking about a backpack full of ordinary fruit. "In this peaceful world... this stuff is quite valuable."
No. 18 suddenly snapped out of her shock. She frowned, her tone filled with deep confusion and vigilance. "What do you mean by this? If you want me to help you exchange this gold for cash... I don't think that's necessary, right? You're Bulma, you can do that all by yourself. You don't need my help."
Future Bulma smiled slightly upon hearing this. She nodded, and then shook her head again.
Under No. 18's increasingly impatient gaze, she said slowly and clearly, "No, you've misunderstood. This is not for you to help me exchange. This gold... is your payment."
"Payment?"
This time, No. 18 was truly shocked, her voice rising several pitches. "What kind of small favor requires ten kilograms of gold as payment?!"
She was instantly wary! There was no such thing as a free lunch, especially not a pure gold lunch!
"First, tell me clearly what this favor is!"
No. 18 sat up a little straighter, her eyes becoming sharp again.
Future Bulma took a deep breath, as if she had made some kind of decision.
She pushed the heavy backpack of gold towards No. 18 again, her gaze firm, her face filled with a solemn, all-or-nothing expression as she said, word for word, "I want you to do me a favor. In the next few days, when you go back to the Briefs' estate and are... alone with Whitley at night,"
She paused, as if weighing her words, but in the end, she said it directly. "Find a chance... and switch me in!"
No. 18: "..."
The conference room fell into a dead silence.
The expression on No. 18's face instantly froze, as if she had heard something from a fantasy.
She blinked, and then blinked again, suspecting that she had had an auditory hallucination.
A few seconds later, as if she had finally digested the shocking meaning behind this sentence, she suddenly jumped off the conference table, her voice distorted with extreme shock. "Wh-what?!!"
"Y-you... say that again?! What do you want to do?!"
Future Bulma seemed to have expected her reaction. Her expression was still calm, and even with a hint of "I have nothing to lose" composure.
She nodded to indicate that No. 18 had not misheard, and repeated her explanation clearly. "Yes, you heard me right. When you go back and are... with Whitley, find a chance to switch me in! I will take your place!"
She looked at No. 18's "you're crazy" face and continued, "After this is successfully done, apart from this gold, I also have a handsome sum of cash as a follow-up thank you. That is a portion of the payment I received for selling the technology of the time machine as a patent to the me of this world... hmm, that is, Bulma. It's about..."
She quoted a number that made No. 18's pupils contract sharply. "Seventeen billion? How about it? What's your answer now?"
No. 18: "..."
She was completely stunned. She stood there, feeling as if her brain had been overloaded!
She looked at Future Bulma before her, who was completely serious and not joking at all, then looked down at the pile of sparkling, incredibly tempting gold on the conference table...
After a long while, an extremely complex and indescribable expression slowly appeared on No. 18's face.
There was absurdity, there was shock, there was a hint of offended annoyance, but gradually, these emotions were replaced by a... strange and even eager excitement.
She suddenly felt that this absurd thing she was about to agree to...
Thinking about it carefully, strictly speaking, this woman before her, in terms of genes and identity... she was also Bulma!
"I'm sorry, Whitley."
No. 18 nodded, speaking softly to the Whitley that had appeared in her mind.
...
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