Ultimate Tycoon: Building the Richest Empire with System and Heroines
Chapter 37: Move Your Tongue.

Chapter 37: Move Your Tongue.

Beep... beep... beep...

The sound of machines humming gently in the background was the first thing Ethan heard as he slowly floated back into consciousness. His mind, however, was still stuck somewhere else—somewhere way more fun.

"Haa... goddess... that’s it... right there... move your tongue..." he murmured, lips curling into a weird, dreamy smile.

He shifted under the blanket, still in his half-sleep state, hand flopping lazily to the side. And then—

Pomf.

His fingers landed on something round. Soft. Supple.

"Huh...? I didn’t expect them to be this soft..." he mumbled like a fool. "So big... Goddess, what do you feed these things...?"

And then, like any pervert being blessed in his dreams, he gave them a slow squeeze.

Squish.

"Hmm... maybe do that thing with them—"

SMACK!

A sharp slap landed across his face like divine punishment.

"GAAH!!" Ethan jolted awake, eyes blinking in confusion. "Wh-where the hell—?"

SMACK!

"OW!! AGAIN?! WHAT—"

His hands twitched.

His fingers were still clutching... the round... things.

Reality slammed into his face faster than the slap.

There was a woman standing over him, glaring.

A white nurse’s cap on her head, long brown hair in a ponytail, a medical mask pulled slightly down, and a stethoscope dangling from her neck. A pristine nurse uniform hugged her curves.

Ethan blinked, processing the image.

"Why are you in a nurse cosplay, Goddess?" he asked dumbly.

The woman’s eye twitched.

"Sir," she said through gritted teeth, "can you please... remove your hand?"

He looked down.

Oh no.

Ohhh no.

His hand was still on her chest. Still squeezing. As if it belonged there.

"OH—MY BAD!" Ethan yanked his hand back like he’d touched lava. "I-I’m sorry! I thought you were—this isn’t—gah!"

He scrambled, nearly falling off the hospital bed.

The nurse didn’t reply.

She simply sighed, checked his vitals, and handed him a cup of water and a few tablets.

"Take these," she said.

Ethan took them obediently, still red in the face.

"Uh... so... I’m in a hospital?" he finally asked.

The nurse glanced at his bandages. "You’re lucky you’re even breathing, sir. You were found unconscious near a burning bus wreckage. Internal bleeding, broken arm, torn ligaments. But here you are—blabbering about a goddess and squeezing boobs in your sleep."

"W-wait—did I say all that out loud?" Ethan’s face turned purple.

The nurse’s eyes drifted down to his blanket.

She smirked.

"You were also having... quite the healthy dream," she added, pointing at the blanket.

Ethan followed her gaze.

Under the thin sheet, a very noticeable mountain had risen like a monument to shame.

"..."

"...Ha... ha..." Ethan laughed awkwardly. "I-It’s the morning effect, you know? Body healing. Totally scientific... stuff."

The nurse rolled her eyes. "It’s normal. Young men often wake up like this when... dreaming of aggressive tongue techniques."

Just as Ethan’s soul was about to escape from the embarrassment of his "healthy" dream, the hospital door creaked open again.

A woman stepped in.

Not just a woman—a goddess in navy blue.

She wore a crisp, form-fitting police uniform, the blazer hugging her hourglass figure like it had been tailored by temptation itself. The top buttons were undone just enough to make the line of her collarbone criminal. A black leather belt cinched her slim waist, handcuffs clipped at her hip. Her long, jet-black hair was tied into a tight ponytail, with a few loose strands framing her striking, angular face. Lips like crushed rose petals, skin smooth like ivory, and eyes sharp enough to issue citations for breathing too hard.

Ethan forgot how to breathe.

His "hero" twitched under the blanket.

Holy justice, what kind of cop looks like that?

The woman didn’t say a word. She walked confidently across the room, her heels tapping like judgment, and pulled a chair directly in front of him.

She crossed one leg over the other with elegance and authority, then turned toward the nurse.

"Can he talk?" she asked, voice calm but commanding.

The nurse grinned. "Yes. He can answer. Especially since he’s really healthy."

Her eyes flicked down meaningfully to the pillow now sitting suspiciously in Ethan’s lap.

Ethan’s face turned redder than a wanted poster. "Can we not talk about that... please?"

The nurse giggled and left the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Finally, the policewoman turned to him fully.

"I’m Inspector Natalie Hayes," she said, flashing a sleek badge. "Sorry to bother you in this state, but I’d like to ask a few questions regarding the bus incident."

Ethan nodded slowly, still half-distracted by the way her uniform hugged her curves like a second skin.

Of course, he thought. After the blast and chaos, police involvement was inevitable.

"Yes," he said, sitting up straighter and pulling the pillow closer to hide his inner rebellion. "Go ahead."

Natalie leaned forward just a bit, elbows on her crossed legs, eyes focused.

"You’re the only survivor from that wreck," she said. "But we found five bodies at the scene... and preliminary forensics say the explosion didn’t kill them."

Ethan tensed.

"They were killed before that. Slashed with a sharp-edged weapon. So tell me, Mr. Ethan... what happened on that bus?"

Ethan’s mind raced.

I can’t tell her about Serena.

He clenched his fists under the blanket.

But if I want to figure out who ordered the attack... I’ll need to reveal at least part of the truth. Still—if I spill everything and leave out Serena’s name, whoever’s watching might suspect her.

She’ll be in danger.

He took a slow breath.

"There were seven of us on the bus," he began. "Including me."

Natalie’s eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

"Everything seemed normal until, suddenly... they turned on each other. Guns and knives. Like some kind of secret gang war. I got dragged in. One of them came at me—I had to fight back."

He gestured toward his heavily bandaged body.

"As you can see, I didn’t exactly come out unharmed."

Natalie nodded once, urging him to continue.

"Then, during the chaos, someone fired a shot. It hit the driver. He lost control of the wheel. The bus swerved... and everyone jumped out in panic. I don’t remember much after that. Just... the sound of an explosion. Then darkness."

He leaned back against the pillows, feigning exhaustion.

Natalie didn’t speak immediately. Her brows were furrowed, lips pursed in thought.

She was connecting dots. Weighing his words.

Ethan stayed silent.

She finally exhaled. "Strange... very strange."

Then, just as she was about to open her mouth again—

SLAM!

The door flew open.

"BIG BRO SUPERHERO!!!"

A familiar voice rang out like a rocket.