Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week-Chapter 658 - 656: Who Dares Judge Me?
At five in the morning, some people are still lost in dreams, while others are already up working.
But the worker isn't the president, nor the Secretary of State, just a cook in a mansion.
Gareth doesn't wake up at five every morning to work; only when the employer wants to eat something unconventional does he get up at this hour.
At this time, no helpers are allowed in his kitchen.
Even though everyone knows what he's doing during this time, they pretend that if they're not involved, they don't know, staying out of it.
Gareth is forty-three this year, a standard white male, with a happy family and a full chest of hair.
He's tall and robust, with muscles on his arms unusually developed, thicker than most people's thighs.
The autumn morning is a bit chilly.
But Gareth still wears a vest paired with black trousers, leaving his room.
Outside is a forest, autumn has dyed many of the lush green leaves yellow.
Gareth turns his head and can see a luxurious mansion, its magnificent exterior showcasing Dutch colonial architectural style.
The tiles on the roof sparkle in the sunlight, as if telling tales of the wear of distant years.
It's not on the same level as the simple wooden house he lives in.
But he doesn't complain.
An annual salary of a million US dollars is enough to keep Gareth silent about his living environment, including all the activities inside the mansion, which he won't describe or dare.
Living in this mansion is the forty-second president.
Even though he's long retired, he still exerts tremendous influence in the political world.
Countless powerful figures come and go in secret.
If he wants to expose the disgraceful things happening inside the mansion, he's afraid he wouldn't make it past the next day before being found dead in the street by "accident."
It's not that he lacks conscience, it's just that the enemy is too strong.
Gareth has used this reasoning for years to justify earning his generous annual salary of one million US dollars.
He walks down the cobblestone path to the outermost backdoor of the estate.
There's no Federal Service Bureau security personnel guarding here, just a van parked outside the iron gate.
A white man with a shaved head pokes his head out from the driver's window, his arms and neck are tattooed with eagles, indicating gang affiliation.
"Hey, Gareth, long time no see; how have you been?"
"Rhode, my days here are more stable than those of a civil servant."
Gareth shrugs, opening the gate in front.
The van drives into the estate.
He closes the gate again, choosing not to walk back but to sit in the passenger seat next to Rhode, chit-chatting, "How've you been?"
"Terrible; I'm really envious of your peaceful days. Sixteenth Street has been busy lately.
New York's cracking down on guns, banning illegal drug sales, and intensifying anti-gang operations, forcing New York's gangs to flee.
A group called Manhattan broke into our turf, and the boss is fighting them fiercely."
Rhode complains about that, expertly driving to a backdoor on the west side of the mansion, "Mention to Mr. William later so he can say something to the police chief; we can't have outsiders disrupting local forces."
"Don't worry, Mr. William values the friendship with Sixteenth Street."
Gareth gets out, opens the back door, where the rear seats are removed, making it look empty, save for a burlap sack there.
A muffled sound comes from the sack.
Gareth and Rhode together lift the sack from the car.
The mansion's backdoor is open, and inside is a spacious, bright kitchen.
Gareth throws the sack on the ground, turns to close the door.
Rhode swiftly unties the sack, pulling it down, revealing a girl with a cute appearance, tears in her eyes.
Gareth turns, steps forward and pinches her face, and quickly pulls the sack down to the bottom, reaching out to probe.
A satisfied expression appears on his face; there's clearly a significant figure there.
"Bro, we at Sixteenth Street do things steady; if we say it's a sixteen-year-old Drug Girl, we never deliver wrong."
Rhode pats his chest proudly, "We know Mr. William's taste, specially imported from Venezuela; name's Luke Greenbank, spent a fortune making him so charming~."
At this point, Rhode can't help but complain, "Our Mr. William's tastes are becoming more unique."
"Mr. William has tasted everything from the mountains and seas; if he weren't picky, you wouldn't have work."
Gareth responds casually, grabbing Luke's hair, dragging him roughly toward the large iron basin by the sink. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶
He's no stranger to handling humans for Mr. William.
In addition to being infamous across the United States for his lechery, he also has extraordinary pursuits in gourmet.
Birds flying in the sky, fish swimming in the sea, and creatures roaming on land; given William's status, he's tired of eating everything.
Including humans, just ordinary humans aren't enough anymore.
Young girls, boys, elderly, middle-aged, and recently even Drug Girls.
As a chef, Gareth feels immense pressure, fearing William's tastes might get too picky for even him to satisfy.
Gareth halts, pressing Luke's head down to the large iron basin, picking up a shiny butcher's knife, "Rhode, hold him down for me, don't let blood splatter on the floor.
Last time, that old witch Georgina caught me and scolded for half an hour, saying it made her work harder by dirtying the floor."
"No problem."
Rhode steps forward, grabs Luke's hands, and presses his knee against Luke's waist, preventing any violent struggles during the throat cutting.
Doing such things, neither of them exhibits coldness; it's as if they're just slaughtering a chicken, even finding time for a chat.
"I heard New York has built another factory; Saint Heir wants to turn New York into the nation's top manufacturing hub."
"What Saint Heir, it's just for show. The Democratic Party loves to do political propaganda. I don't believe people of that color can receive the Lord's favor."
Gareth works in William's Mansion, but he's not a Democratic Party voter; he's a staunch MAGA supporter.
For MAGA, there's only one true chosen one.
He was about to slit Luke's throat with a knife.
Killing a person is not much different from killing a chicken. As long as you cut the throat and bleed them, after some time, the person will die.
Gareth was about to pull the knife used for slaughtering pigs.
A hand suddenly grabbed the handle of his knife.
He instinctively looked up, seeing a blond man he'd never seen before, his skin pale to the point of translucency, his features sharp and defined.
"Who are you?"
Gareth had just said these words when he suddenly felt the knife in his hand come alive, violently leaving his grasp, then slicing into his neck.
"Huh?"
Gareth looked down at the slaughter knife in his neck, his eyes wide, his hands trembling as he raised them, trying to grasp the handle.
But the strength in his body quickly dwindled at the place where he was cut.
"FARK!"
Rhode let out an angry roar, quickly abandoning Luke, reaching to draw the gun from his waist.
Aozawa spun his fingers, and the knife lodged in Gareth's neck automatically withdrew, rotating forward at a speed surpassing a sonic boom, slicing Rhode's right hand off at the elbow as if cutting through tofu.
With a thud, the right hand fell to the ground, blood splattering.
"Ah!"
He let out a pig-like scream, echoing through the mansion.
Aozawa slapped the ground with his right hand, activating his Free Flight ability, causing the mansion which covered 450 square meters to detach from the ground and soar into the sky.
...
Rumble.
The ground trembled.
William, who had been sound asleep, woke up, his first thought being an earthquake, but the shaking soon stopped.
He sighed in relief and turned to look towards the headboard.
A beautiful young woman was tied there, her hands cuffed to the head of the bed, her legs fixed at the foot.
Her face was small, with slightly red eyes that evoked a sense of pity, inviting like a ripe peach.
With William's current clout, he could beckon many women willing to associate with him.
But he didn't like those women he could obtain with money.
He liked getting a free ride, using violence to claim a woman's body and reveling in that sense of conquest.
When he served as Arkansas's Attorney General, he had been exposed in such scandals.
In his subsequent long political career, he accumulated countless rumors and scandals.
There were countless news reports with irrefutable evidence.
Yet, nobody could truly convict him.
He remained free from punishment.
The woman on the bed awoke from the commotion, looking at the grey-haired old man in front of her and angry: "You bastard! I'm going to sue you! Sue you!"
"Haha, who dares pass judgment on me?"
William was amused by her naive words as if he had heard someone say no one could surpass the law of the United States.
No, that's not a joke either.
He's not human.
William always believed he should be a higher-level being, and he believed that, in the future, he would gain a body that truly transcends humanity.
He glanced at the clock: 5:23.
Not yet time for breakfast; maybe he could have another round.
He liked women who pressed forward relentlessly.
After all, too much pressure makes people explode easily.
"Since you're going to sue me, once or twice is still a suit, why not make it three times?"
William said gleefully, trying to take off his pants again, but then he heard gunfire from outside.
He was immediately startled, hurriedly pulling his Glock G47 from the drawer. "What's happening?"
"Mr. William, it's... it's Dio!"
Hearing the Federal Service Bureau's reply, William's face turned pale, his legs weakening.
As a Democratic Party higher-up, he naturally recognized the name and was familiar with Dio's deeds.
Because of Dio's presence, he had once abandoned certain behaviors, though old habits die hard.
The brief restraint brought by Dio vanished after a week.
He couldn't bear that sort of ascetic life.
No women, no gourmet food, unable to play with power—life in this world became exceedingly dull, and after a period of calm, he couldn't resist seeking thrills again.
Yet he never expected that in seeking thrills, he'd encounter this bringer of misfortune.
He must leave!
William gritted his teeth, turned to escape through the window.
