Chapter 11: The Monarch of New York (3)

New York’s streets in the dark hours before dawn.... Even so, the shop lights remained lit, and the brilliance of Times Square illuminated the night sky as if it were broad daylight.

Walking boldly through those New York streets with three women at his side was a youth with the appearance of a young boy. Though his chronological age was twenty, he possessed blonde hair and azure eyes—a visage so exquisite one might believe Venus, the Goddess of Love and Beauty, had sculpted him herself. He was the ultimate bishounen, a boy who made every woman turn back for a second look... As Zod emerged from the cinema with Artoria, Jeanne Alter, and Mata Hari, the eyes of every man and woman in the vicinity were drawn to them.

"It was entertaining, but far too predictable."

"The popcorn was quite palatable."

"Did you see the clerk’s face when we ordered ten double-size buckets? Ahahaha! What a complete amateur!"

"My goodness, Artoria really is a glutton, isn't she? And Jeanne is just as ill-tempered as ever."

These were Zod’s women. Artoria Alter, a cold and icy beauty with platinum-blonde hair, golden eyes, and skin as pale as porcelain. Jeanne d'Arc Alter, an irritable yet undeniably stunning woman with silver-white hair, golden eyes, and equally pallid skin. And Mata Hari, a woman of intoxicating sensuality, boasting a voluptuous, hourglass figure with light brown hair like milk chocolate and eyes of deep blue.

Men watched Zod with eyes full of jealousy and envy as he walked among these three women with the smile of a victor, yet there was nothing they could do.

For the youth leading these women was none other than Zod—the one whispered to be the Little Demon King who ruled the nights of New York.

"I imagine you're all peckish. Shall we go for a meal? A restaurant owned by one of our subsidiaries just opened nearby."

At the mention of a meal and a restaurant, Artoria Alter’s mouth began to water. Jeanne Alter let out a heavy sigh, and Mata Hari turned to look at Artoria Alter with a stunned expression.

"Didn't we just finish ten double-size jumbo popcorns? And didn't you drink a King-size cola?"

"You underestimate me... Such trifles are merely a light snack to cleanse the palate."

"No... that is not something to be proud of, you cold-blooded woman..."

"Fufu~ A healthy appetite is what makes her Artoria. Let us go."

Zod let out a chuckle at Artoria Alter’s absurdity and led them toward the restaurant. Men looked at Zod with envious eyes, while women looked at the Artorias and the others with the same burning envy.

"Welcome, guests... Do you happen to have a reservation?"

"Zod of Homeland... Four seats in the VVIP section."

"Pardon? I am terribly sorry, but our restaurant does not accept guests without a prior reservation..."

The employee, seemingly a new recruit, politely asked them to leave since they couldn't enter without a reservation. Zod’s expression soured, his displeasure evident at the clerk’s behavior. Seeing this, the General Manager of the restaurant came sprinting over, gasping for breath, and hurriedly bowed his head before Zod.

"W-Welcome, Mr. Zod."

"Ah... I see this one is a new hire? Since he’s so intent on turning me away at the door."

At Zod’s remark, the manager turned pale. He immediately scolded the employee and guided Zod’s group toward the VVIP area.

Following this, the employee began to protest to the manager. This was a high-end restaurant that operated strictly on a reservation-only basis.

Even if the boy was wearing a luxury suit, he still looked like a child... and while the women he brought were beautiful, their restaurant was not a daycare, nor was he a babysitter. But as he argued his point, the manager looked like he was seconds away from slapping him.

"You lunatic! Do you have any idea who that was?!"

"Is he some corporate heir or the son of a politician?"

"You absolute brat.... That is the Boss of Homeland, Zod!"

"What is that supposed to be?"

The man had only recently moved to New York from Kansas and was still ignorant of the city's power dynamics. He assumed it was just some run-of-the-mill mafia organization and found the manager’s groveling pathetic.

"He isn't just some common thug! He is the Ruler of New York! The man they call the Demon King of the Night! There isn't a business in this city his hand doesn't touch! Even this restaurant is one of his subsidiaries!"

"Wha—?!"

Only then did the gravity of the situation sink in. The employee’s face drained of color as he began to tremble. No matter how much you praise a person's status, it rarely feels real until you realize they are the absolute highest power in the company you work for—the ultimate boss. His face grew darker by the second.

"Am... Am I fired?"

"If you're only fired, you’ve been granted a miracle of mercy.... They are a mafia syndicate, for heaven's sake... It'll be a miracle if you aren't found as a corpse somewhere..."

Terror-stricken by the manager’s words, the employee decided he had to apologize even if he had to crawl on his knees. He moved to run toward the VVIP room, but the manager grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.

"Stop. The Boss hates nothing more than being interrupted while spending time with his women..."

"I... I'm not going to die, am I?"

"I have a friend who's Japanese. They have an ultimate form of apology called 'Dogeza,' where you prostrate yourself. You’d better try that."

"How do I do it?"

"On your knees, head to the floor."

"If it's to stay alive.... I have to, right?"

"If I see a story about a body on the front page tomorrow, I’ll assume it was you."

Fortunately, as Zod was currently in a delightful mood thanks to Mata Hari burying his face in her chest, the employee was said to have survived unscathed.

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