The absurd scene that had just unfolded in front of the Heroes Association headquarters was fully recorded by the security cameras—and witnessed live by the monitoring staff inside the control room.

On the main screen, Tatsumaki, the Rank 2 S-Class Hero, was shown crouched down near the gate, clutching her stomach and vomiting repeatedly, her face pale as chalk.

For a long moment, everyone in the room was completely frozen.

That was Tatsumaki.

One of the strongest heroes among the entire S-Class—brought down so easily?

It was unthinkable. The expressions of disbelief spread through the entire monitoring team like a wave.

The Association executives, who still had little information about Zenin Kyūjō, reacted immediately.

“Who is that man? His power level is absurd…”

The control room erupted into a flurry of conversation.

“You’re right! Even Tatsumaki couldn’t withstand a single blow from him!”

“Why were they fighting? Was it a personal conflict?”

“Forget that for now! Dispatch a medical team—now! We have to make sure Tatsumaki’s condition is stable!”

One senior executive, an elderly man with silver hair, watched the screen intently before giving a firm command.

“I think he’s one of ours… I’ve seen that face before. Ayvika, identify him immediately and pull up his full profile. And get a medical team to the scene at once! Tatsumaki needs treatment—fast!”

— — —

A few minutes later—

“Found him! His name is Zenin Kyūjō, a registered hero under the alias ‘Light of Z-City.’ Currently B-Class, Rank 5.”

The operator displayed Kyūjō’s full data profile on the main monitor.

As soon as his rank appeared on-screen, the executives collectively froze again.

“B-Class…? You’re telling me someone who can defeat Tatsumaki is only B-Class? That’s insane!” one of them exclaimed.

Another crossed his arms thoughtfully. “From sheer power alone, he deserves S-Class. But we can’t rush this. We don’t know his relationship with Tatsumaki yet. Handling this carelessly might make things worse.”

“Besides,” another executive added, “the ranking system isn’t based on strength alone. It also factors in confirmed missions, the number of eliminated threats, and public reports. Based on his monster-elimination record, his current position is technically justified.”

“If he wanted to rise in rank, he could easily do so,” a woman interjected. “Maybe he just doesn’t care about fame or recognition.”

“In that case,” said the silver-haired director, “let’s leave his rank as it is—but make sure the Association treats the Light of Z-City with utmost respect. We need to maintain a good relationship with him.”

“Because if a crisis ever comes—one even our S-Class heroes can’t handle—he might be the only one who can save us.”

The room fell silent for a moment before everyone nodded in agreement.

Thus, the entire incident—Zenin Kyūjō defeating Tornado of Terror, Rank 2 S-Class Hero—was buried in secrecy.

Only a handful of people within the Association would ever know the truth.

— — —

That evening, during dinner, Zenin Kyūjō decided to bring up an important topic to Saitama and Genos—the truth about Sweet Mask, the Rank 1 A-Class Hero.

— — —

“Three years ago,” Kyūjō began, “Sweet Mask wasn’t… well, sweet at all.”

He set his chopsticks down and leaned back. “He was an ordinary man with a horribly disfigured face. But despite his appearance, he lived with a kind heart—doing quiet, good deeds no one noticed. Cleaning streets. Helping the homeless. That kind of thing.”

“When the Heroes Association was founded, he registered as a C-Class hero. Because he always wore a mask during missions, people started calling him ‘Secret Mask.'”

“But one day, during a rescue mission, his mask broke… and his real face was revealed to the public.”

Kyūjō’s voice softened. “He had always despised his reflection. That deep self-hatred triggered something inside him. His body mutated—he transformed into a monster.”

“Yet oddly enough, the transformation made him… beautiful.”

“His face changed completely—becoming flawless, even divine. After that, he accepted his new form, kept his humanity intact, and continued fighting for good. He became an idol, an actor, a singer, a symbol of the Association’s hope.”

Genos nodded thoughtfully while Saitama chewed his food with an empty look.

“But behind that fame,” Kyūjō continued, “he harbors one obsession: to preserve the purity of S-Class. He doesn’t want weak heroes getting in through luck or favoritism. That’s why he intentionally stays as A-Class Rank 1—to act as the Association’s unofficial gatekeeper.”

— — —

“Your current rank,” Kyūjō said to Saitama, “is now A-Class, Rank 2.”

“Which means… Sweet Mask will come for you soon—to ‘judge’ whether you deserve S-Class promotion.”

“Even though he’s technically a monster, he’s never harmed humans. In fact, he protects them. So when that happens, Saitama…”

Kyūjō looked him straight in the eye.

“…please don’t kill him with a single punch, okay?”

Saitama blinked, then nodded slowly. “So… there are good monsters too, huh?”

— — —

After dinner, Saitama suddenly stood up with renewed energy and dashed out of the house.

Minutes later, he returned—carrying a huge basket filled to the brim with seaweed.

“Kyūjō! Look what I found today! Let’s have seaweed for dinner tomorrow!”

Genos turned his head sharply, his sensors flickering.

“Seaweed…? I’ve read that it contains nutrients that promote hair growth,” he muttered seriously. “Master Saitama, are you planning to regrow your hair?”

Saitama twitched slightly, looking away.

“If that’s your intention,” Genos continued eagerly, “there’s no need to rely on such primitive methods. My creator, Dr. Kuseno, specializes in synthetic hair implantation. His technology is cutting-edge. The transplanted hair won’t fall out—even during battle!”

He was already pulling out his phone. “If you’d like, I can contact him right now and schedule the procedure for tomorrow.”

Saitama’s eyes brightened for a brief moment—but then dulled almost instantly. He waved both hands quickly. “Ah—no, no. Forget it.”

Even if the result was perfect… fake hair was still fake.

And Saitama didn’t want fake hair.

— — —

Zenin Kyūjō walked over, plucked a piece of the so-called “seaweed” from the basket, and examined it closely.

The moment he recognized what it actually was, he immediately tossed it back, grimacing.

Looking straight at Saitama, he scolded in irritation, “Saitama… seriously? You call this seaweed? This is clearly a piece of that Seaweed Monster you fought before!”

“You’re still as stingy as ever! You’re not broke anymore—so why are you still eating this stuff? Eat it if you want, but don’t drag me into it! What if I go bald just from eating this thing?!”

Saitama froze. His mouth twitched.

Kyūjō-san… you’re so mean.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep