Chapter 9: The Lord of New York (1)

On a private jet bound for New York, Zod was staring at the Subspecies Holy Grail in his hand, his eyes filled with a look of deep intrigue.

"Master♡"

Mata Hari, currently providing a lap pillow for Zod, stroked his face and whispered seductively, her smile radiating an enchanting allure.

"Congratulations on winning the Holy Grail War."

As her eyes curved into a smile and she whispered to him, Zod gently caressed her slender waist. He returned her look with a playful, melting smile that made Mata Hari let out a sweet, satisfied giggle.

"Haah♡ Honestly... Master, you really are incorrigible!♡"

Without a hint of displeasure, Mata Hari began to feed him grapes. She didn't simply hand them over; she would kiss each grape first, then meticulously place them into his mouth one by one.

"Ugh... Get a room already..."

Jeanne Alter glared at Mata Hari with a look of utter disgust, but Mata Hari paid her no mind, continuing to brush back Zod's blonde hair.

"Jeanne, are you jealous?"

"Ha... Hah?! Me?! Jealous?! Who would be jealous of that?!"

"Then come over here and give me a lap pillow instead of Mata Hari."

"H-Hmph!! Since you're begging and pleading so desperately, I suppose I have no choice but to do you this special favor!"

Feigning reluctance, Jeanne Alter watched as Zod moved from Mata Hari's legs to her own. She looked down at him with a flushed face, her lips twitching as she struggled to suppress a smile of pure happiness.

"Total pushover, that charging idiot."

"She was even easier than I expected..."

"SHUT... SHUT UP!!"

Artoria Alter watched the scene while munching on a Burger King cheeseburger and fries, her gaze filled with mockery. Beside her, Emiya Alter shook his head while sipping black coffee. Jeanne Alter's face turned beet red as she screamed at them...

"You're too noisy... eat this, Jeanne."

"Hah?! Mmph?!"

Zod had unceremoniously shoved the grape Mata Hari had given him into Jeanne's mouth.

"Calmed down now?"

"Yeah... (munch munch)."

Jeanne Alter nodded with a blushing face. Zod, meanwhile, surrendered himself to the forest of flesh, his hands wandering between her chest and Mata Hari's.

.

.

.

"Shall we go look for some suits first?"

Upon arriving in New York, Zod's first order of business was wardrobe. Mata Hari was currently squeezed into an ill-fitting, off-the-rack women's suit that was visibly tight around her chest and hips. To remedy this, Zod climbed into a waiting limousine to gift her a proper bespoke suit.

"To the Kingsman, New York branch."

"Understood. And welcome back, Boss."

"Yeah."

Zod gave a cursory reply to the driver. With Mata Hari at his side and Emiya Alter, Jeanne, and Artoria Alter in tow as his guard, he headed toward "Kingsman." It was a 5-star tailor specializing in bespoke suits, far removed from the mediocre rags he'd dressed Emiya Alter in back in Springfield. This was the heart of America—New York luxury.

"Welcome, sir. It is an honor to have you visit our store again."

"Bespoke for these two, the woman and the man. I don't care about the price. Keep it modern and sharp."

"As you wish, sir."

The staff member bowed and began to guide Emiya Alter and Mata Hari, but then, a portly white man standing nearby suddenly flared up with arrogance.

"Where does a darkie get the nerve to crawl into a place like this?! This establishment is for sacred white people like us! It's not some cheap dive where scum like you can just waltz in! Has Kingsman become so desperate for money that they're taking darkies as customers now? The quality of this place has truly gone to the dogs!"

The man, his neck buried in layers of fat, had a thick, wheezing voice. He scowled at first, but upon seeing Mata Hari, he began to pant like a pig in heat, his eyes crawling over her with pure lust.

"Well now, Mademoiselle... looking at you makes my heart race so. Please, allow me to learn more about you..."

He reached out, his hand slithering toward Mata Hari's...

CRUNCH!

Zod, smiling brightly, brought his foot down hard on the pig-like man's foot. The man let out a squeal like a hog being slaughtered and rolled pathetically on the floor.

"Who the fuck was that?! Do you have any idea who I am?!"

"It's me... Since you, who are worth less than a beast, dared to try and lay a hand on my property..."

"This pint-sized brat must have a death wish! Don't you know who— who... wait... HIEEK?! Boss Zod of Homeland?!"

As the man finally recognized Zod's face, he turned deathly pale, collapsing back in terror.

"You tried to touch what belongs to me... and you insulted my subordinate... You must have expected to pay a price for that, right?"

"Th-this darkie and the lady... they're yours?"

"Still calling him that? ...You... you're the president of the Hog Trade Association, aren't you? You borrowed quite a bit of money through our loan sharks... You keep saying you'll pay it back, you'll pay it back, but you only drip-feed us the interest while the principal stays untouched..."

"No! No matter how much it's a loan, the interest rates are murderous!..."

"And yet, a man who claims to have no money seems to have plenty of cash to deck himself out in high-end suits?"

".................."

The man had no rebuttal and fell silent under Zod's cold, piercing smile.

"According to my research, you have a daughter. She's currently being treated at a hospital managed by our organization... Leukemia, was it?"

At Zod's words, the man's face turned ashen, and cold sweat began to pour down his forehead.

"There isn't a single business in New York that our organization doesn't touch. Even the hospitals and the stock markets—everyone has their roots entangled with us... As of this moment, you, your relatives, your maternal family, even your distant in-laws... are all banned and permanently expelled from every business our organization manages or collaborates with."

"Wh... what does that mean?!"

"It means that from now on, no hospital in New York will admit your daughter, not a single company will trade with your association, and you won't even be able to enjoy the simplest of food, clothing, or shelter. Do you understand now?"

Stunned for a moment, the man was gripped by terror, but he tried to lash out in desperate anger.

"Th-this is tyranny! An outrage! I'll sue! You're just a bunch of Mafiosos! I'll file a lawsuit in the New York High Court!!"

Zod responded to the man's final struggle with a chilling grin.

"Go ahead... Lawyers, prosecutors, judges, juries... there isn't a single one who hasn't been through my—our—hands. I might just have them sentence you to death."

Finally understanding the gravity of the situation, the man fell to his knees and began to beg. However, Zod simply snapped his fingers. Immediately, private security from Homeland's Kingsman division dragged him out. Minutes later, New York police arrived and arrested him on a laundry list of charges.

"How truly pathetic."

"This is why nouveau riche scum are unbearable. They have no class."

The other socialites getting their suits fitted in Kingsman clicked their tongues as they watched the man being dragged out and beaten by the New York police. By siding against him, they were making it clear to Zod that they were of a completely different caliber than the fallen wretch—hoping to ensure their own survival.

"Now then, shall we get back to the tailoring?"

As if the murderous threats and cold-blooded scheming from moments ago were all a lie, Zod turned to Mata Hari and Emiya Alter with a bright, cheerful smile.

Comments (0)

Please log in to leave a comment. Login or Register