Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week-Chapter 451 - 449: Paradise Island of Concentrated Sin_1
The Atlantic, on an island unknown to the world, lay far from the noise of nations and cities.
Seventy percent of the island consisted of forests and lakes, serving as a sanctuary for various species. The remaining thirty percent of its western part had been cleared for human habitation, yet it was neither a city nor a town but entirely the property of the Hunter family of the Texas consortium.
Every summer, the Hunter family hosted grand parties here, inviting families with ties to the Texas consortium, as well as business partners and personal friends, to be their guests on the island.
Walter was the president of the United Health Group, and he was just over thirty years old. Becoming president at such an age suggested a boundless future. Indeed, he was very adept at making money for the company. When AI systems swept the globe, he seized the opportunity, employing AI: nH Prediction in health insurance, which saved the company a significant amount of money.
Those incompetent and corrupt doctors only thought about charging exorbitant prices, expecting United Health Group to foot the bill for the insured. The patients, clueless and easily swayed, were merely puppets for their doctors. nH Prediction could accurately determine when a person’s condition would improve and for how many days, allowing them to cover medical expenses for only that specific duration. This proved nH Prediction was extremely accurate and effective; few people ever challenged United Health Group in court over denied medical expenses. Out of 10,000 cases, only one went to trial; the remaining 9,999 demonstrated the accuracy of nH Prediction’s disease diagnoses.
This only confirmed Walter’s impression of the lower classes: greedy, ignorant, selfish, inept, and so on. If they weren’t maliciously trying to commit insurance fraud and genuinely had a rightful claim, why wouldn’t they sue United Health Group? Therefore, Walter despised people from the lower classes. He was grateful to have been born into a middle-class family and had aspired from a young age to join the upper echelons of American society. Thanks to Walter’s efforts, he had finally received an invitation into that upper-class society today. It was an invitation to a party hosted by the Hunter family.
He adjusted his tie, looking out at the night sky. Unmarred by city pollution, the stars and moon reflected on the deep blue sea. From high above, the crescent-shaped island looked extraordinarily beautiful.
The private helicopter Walter was in landed slowly on the island’s helipad. He quickly stood up and, unbuckling the seatbelt of the Chairman beside him, said respectfully, "Chairman Wood, we’ve arrived."
"Have we?" Wood was over fifty. His cheeks, not as well-maintained as those of other wealthy individuals, made him appear quite aged. He rose leisurely, took the walking stick Walter handed him, and moved unhurriedly towards the cabin door. Walter followed respectfully, not rushing him in the slightest, like someone in a cage with a lion, cautiously observing the old man’s subtle expressions. He knew his climb up the ladder was built on carefulness and attentive consideration. He also understood that in the United States, personal connections permeated everything; merely having talent wasn’t enough to rise to the top—one needed high emotional intelligence.
Wood stepped out of the helicopter. The ground was covered with a bright red carpet. A handsome, blonde young man stood there, saying enthusiastically, "Uncle Wood, it’s been a long time! You still look as vigorous as ever!"
"Heh, you’ve become even more handsome than before. I hear you’ve recently closed a big military-related deal with Phoenix Academy?"
"Hmm, are you interested, Uncle Wood?"
"Forget it. I don’t want to meddle in areas I don’t understand." Wood shook his head. He was satisfied with his current industry and, unlike a typical second-generation heir, felt no need to prove himself. His only hope was to preserve his father’s legacy; that, to him, would be success enough.
"And who’s this?"
"This is our company’s president, Walter Ermanno. I brought him here today to get a glimpse of high society."
"Hello, Mr. Hansel," Walter greeted with a polite, beaming smile. In this setting, he showed no hint of intimidation. He knew that interacting with high-society people required utmost confidence; without it, one could easily be looked down upon.
Hansel laughed. "First time here? You should enjoy yourself.
"This is Paradise Island, the embodiment of all earthly pleasures, guaranteed to satisfy."
Wood spoke up, "Walter, you don’t need to stay by my side; go have fun.
"This is an island that even Professor Hawking couldn’t stop praising."
"Yes, sir." Walter nodded. I’m aware that being told to ’go have fun’ is just an excuse to get me out of the way. No matter how much Wood appreciates me, he still just sees me as a useful subordinate, or rather, a tool. Bringing me here was a demonstration of his trust, but if I wanted to actually get involved in any core issues, that would be overestimating my own importance. Walter was not in a hurry. He planned to first integrate into high society, then into the elite. I believe that with my talent and emotional intelligence, I will definitely be able to squeeze into the most elite circles within my lifetime.
「...」
Paradise Island was the epitome of luxury. Golden lights shimmered everywhere, casting a golden sheen over everything from the tables to the floors and even the swimming pool. Every person seemed to be bathed in a golden filter.
When tackiness reaches its peak, it becomes trend! This phrase flashed through Walter’s mind as he surveyed the top-tier party hosted by the leading consortium—a place bursting with dreamlike charm.
The tables were laden with a variety of delicious dishes, from Chinese to Western to Arab cuisines. Any kind of dish that existed in the world could be enjoyed here, and any kind of fine wine in existence could be drunk here. If one wanted women, they ranged from eighty-year-olds to newborn infants. Even if one had a taste so unique as to desire someone over eighty, a simple phone call would quickly fulfill the request.
On this island, no law could restrain the wealthy; they did whatever they desired. This was, after all, the private island of the Hunter family. Private property, sacred and inviolable. Even the U.S. Army couldn’t land on the island’s ports without their permission. An FBI investigation was utterly out of the question.
Walter saw many celebrities and international beauty pageant winners; their expressions alone betrayed their low status here. A sense of relief washed over him. Knowledge is what can change one’s destiny. Those so-called stars who rely on their acting skills to get by in the entertainment industry, in a place like this, can only be reduced to the lowest-tier playthings.
"Mr. Walter, you can pick anyone you desire," a man said.
"No need," Walter replied, shaking his head. I’m new here; it’s best not to pick a conspicuous celebrity companion, he thought. "Bring me a seven-year-old girl."
"What kind of little girl do you like?" asked the man. Dressed in a tailcoat, he looked like a butler but was, in fact, a personal Butler for each distinguished guest. "We have them all here, from Arab to African to Asian, and even from Europe and America."
Walter thought for a moment. I don’t like Asian women. Every time I see those stereotypically narrow eyes on screen, I feel physically repulsed. Africans are too dark for my taste. "Bring me a white girl from Europe and America."
"Very well, I will arrange for a little girl from Argentina for you right away." The Butler pressed the communicator at his ear and spoke to someone on the other end, "Bring Soledad over."
Soon, a maid escorted a beautifully dressed, blonde-haired girl to Walter’s side. Her large eyes held a hint of fear, like a Puppy in a strange new environment. This restrained demeanor pleased Walter immensely; he relished absolute control. Walter reached out and touched the girl’s face, feeling her slight trembling and the incredibly smooth skin. He smiled. "Don’t be afraid, I’m not a bad person. Let’s go." With a gentle pinch of her cheek, Walter continued walking around, the little girl in tow.
Intelligent robots occasionally passed by, carrying trays of drinks. Walter saw a crowd gathered up ahead and approached, discovering two men playing Russian roulette. An African man was stripped of his clothes and tied to a large wheel, too weak to make a sound. Two men stood before a table, gambling. They loaded a single bullet into a revolver, spun the wheel to which the man was tied, and one of them would shoot at the bound African. If the chamber was empty, the shooter had to take a shot of alcohol. If there was a bullet, regardless of whether it hit or missed, the other man had to take a shot.
Walter looked at the bullet holes in the African man’s body, the blood already pooling on the floor—enough, if collected, for a child to soak their feet in. His face showed no sympathy, only excitement. This is the kind of entertainment only high society gets to experience—dominating the life and death of these lower-class monkeys!
「...」
Meanwhile, inside a lighthouse along the coast of Paradise Island, the Black Hawk Mercenary Corps was stationed, securing the island’s safety. Inside this tower, military-grade radar capable of scanning areas up to 2,300 kilometers was installed. It also had a sonar system that could detect objects up to a hundred nautical miles underwater. The monitoring equipment inside the lighthouse was so sophisticated that it amazed even the Black Hawk mercenaries.
That’s rich people for you, Carver thought with a yawn. He pictured the social elites indulging in endless food, wine, and all sorts of women and men. That party, so full of desire... it makes me want to drop this boring work right now and dive in. Too bad. As a mercenary, I don’t have the right to do that. I can’t touch anything on this island unless I want to lose this high-paying job. Every time he finished his work here, he had to seek some form of release in Florida. Those little boys from the church are just great, he mused. After this mission is over, I’ll donate some money to the priest and have him help me get a few good ones.
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
Suddenly, the sonar system shrieked an alarm, and a pulsing red light illuminated the room. Carver stared at the massive blip that nearly consumed the system screen, his face a mask of astonishment. "FARK, what kind of joke is this?!"
A creature this massive shouldn’t exist on Earth!
