In this universe, superheroes didn't exist. There was no Fantastic Four.
Hunter had verified this fact long ago.
So, the stunningly beautiful woman preparing for the dolphin show—the one whose mere presence made half the men in the audience hold their breath—could not be Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman.
But in his past life, Hunter had consumed a vast amount of media. He recognized the face instantly, even if the specific movie didn't click immediately.
"I need to make contact," he decided.
That face - a perfect blend of cute and sexy—and that athletic, sun-kissed body were enough to make even Hunter's heart skip a beat.
The dolphin show began. Hunter watched with apparent interest, but his focus wasn't on the marine mammals. It was entirely on the trainer.
Using his enhanced hearing, he filtered out the crowd noise and eavesdropped on the locals whispering nearby.
"Sam works at Atlantis. She takes care of the sharks mostly, but does the dolphin shows too."
"She's an incredible diver. Best swimmer on the island."
"Heart of gold, too. Her parents were fishermen—died in a storm years ago when their boat capsized."
"She's got a boyfriend. They live together in a trailer."
Hunter smiled. He wasn't biologically related to Cao Cao, the legendary warlord known for his preference for other men's wives, but he certainly shared the spirit.
In this life, he had no intention of marrying. His goal was absolute freedom and conquest. And right now, "Sam" was the target.
The sense of déjà vu is getting stronger, Hunter thought. She's definitely from a movie plot. It must be something niche, or I would have remembered it instantly.
He waited patiently until the show ended.
As the tourists filed out, reluctant to leave the beautiful trainer behind, Hunter remained in his seat.
A staff member eventually approached him to clear the section.
"Sir, the show is over. We're closing this area for cleaning."
Hunter stood up, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a crisp $100 bill.
"Do me a favor," he said, handing the money to the male attendant. "Pass a message to Miss Sam for me."
The attendant's eyes widened at the cash.
"Tell her that a tourist heard she's one of the best divers on the island. I want to hire her as a private guide for a few days. I'll wait here for her answer."
The attendant pocketed the bill without hesitation. "Yes, sir! One moment."
He turned to leave, then paused, his conscience (or perhaps jealousy) prompting a warning.
"Sir, just so you know... if you're interested in Sam... she has a boyfriend."
Hunter just smiled and nodded. "Thanks for the tip."
As long as the hoe swings well, no wall is too tough to dig through.
The attendant shrugged—$100 was a tenth of his monthly salary—and disappeared into the staff tunnel.
A few minutes later, Sam walked out. She looked annoyed.
Clearly, she was used to rich tourists trying to buy her time. She assumed this was just another proposition from a wealthy American looking for a "vacation girlfriend."
But when she saw Hunter, she paused.
She had expected a middle-aged, pot-bellied white man. Instead, she was facing a tall, handsome Asian man with an athletic build.
The Bahamas, being so close to Florida, saw millions of American tourists. Asian tourists were rarer, especially ones who looked like this.
"Hello," Sam said, her initial hostility softening slightly.
She extended her hand professionally.
"Miss Sam. Hello. I'm Hunter Sun."
Hunter shook her hand firmly but briefly, releasing it before it became awkward.
"I'm a travel writer from the US. I'm here to research a book about the Golden Age of Piracy. I'm on a tight schedule—only here for a few days—so I need a local expert."
He smiled, radiating polite charm.
"A friend recommended you. He said you're the best diver and swimmer on Paradise Island. I'd like to hire you to show me around the island and the surrounding waters."
Hunter had been in this world for months now. Between his harem in LA and his escapades in Mexico, he had become a veteran at handling women.
He knew Sam's type: tough, independent, loyal, but financially stressed. If he came on too strong, she'd shut down. She wouldn't betray her boyfriend easily.
So, he played the gentleman.
Sam watched him carefully. His eyes held appreciation for her beauty, but none of the leering hunger she usually encountered.
She hesitated.
The Bahamian economy was rough for locals. The average monthly salary was around 1,000 to 1,500 Bahamian dollars (pegged to the USD).
Sam was broke. Her boyfriend, Jared, was a dreamer who jumped from one get-rich-quick scheme to another. His job as a dive instructor barely paid the bills.
"Mr. Sun," Sam said, testing him. "My daily rate at Atlantis is about fifty dollars. If you're offering less than a hundred, I can't do it."
Hunter suppressed a laugh. So honest.
"I'll pay you two hundred US dollars a day," Hunter said smoothly. "I can advance you five days' pay right now."
Sam's eyes widened.
"However," Hunter added, "you'll need to handle the logistics. I need you to rent a boat for us, plus two sets of diving and safety gear. I'll cover the rental costs separately, of course."
"If you agree, I'll need you for about ten hours a day, starting tomorrow."
$1,000 cash. On the black market, that could be exchanged for 3,000 or 4,000 local dollars. That was two months' rent and food.
Sam looked at him one last time. He seemed professional. Respectful. And rich.
She made up her mind.
"Okay," she said, shaking his hand again. "Deal."
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