Chapter 442: People of Different Paths
"Ugh, ahhh..." The female model was kicked flying, crashing against the wall before dropping to the floor. She kept her mouth wide open, emitting pained cries, while saliva spilled uncontrollably. She curled into a ball, clutching her stomach, twitching on the floor in agony.
"Don't make a sound!" Pablo delivered a punch to her body, issuing an order, then stood on his toes and kicked her abdomen once more.
Pablo was adept at these types of coercive physical punishments; he deliberately avoided the model's face, focusing his attacks on areas of the body most sensitive to pain.
"Wuu-wuu..." The model reached out to cover her mouth, enduring Pablo's kicks and blows. She seemed to struggle to suppress her voice, letting out only soft whimpers and cries of misery.
"Just this level of kicking isn't showing any results," Pablo said, exhausted after a round of beating. He stepped on the model's rear, furrowing his brow and panting.
"Eh? You feel that's still not enough?" Koyanskaya asked with some surprise.
"It's not enough. You see, this woman never had any self-esteem to begin with; she's the type who will endure anything as long as she's given money and status. Don't they say a woman's tolerance for pain is dozens of times that of a man's? Perhaps she's just exceptionally good at enduring. Although I usually prefer obedient women like this, right now, it's actually not useful. Oh, right..."
Pablo seemed to have thought of something. He cleared his throat, spat on the floor, and shouted loudly at the model.
"Hey, you sow! Lick this clean!"
"Ha... ha..." Covered in bruises, the model gasped in pain. With no emotion visible on her face, she bowed her head directly and began to lick the yellow, viscous filth on the floor without any hesitation.
This time, Pablo finally believed that the drug's effectiveness was indeed exceptional. He studied the model—who had been yelling loudly just moments before but now acted as obediently as a dog eating excrement—and remained silent for a long time before saying, "Can this drug be mass-produced?"
"Unfortunately, I would like to make more of such a useful medicine myself. But the amount that can be made from the available materials is just this much. Of course, the specific ingredients are trade secrets," Koyanskaya said, squinting and smiling.
Pablo rolled his eyes and said, "I see. In the future, if you have the materials, sell all the medicine you make to me. I can pay a deposit upfront."
"But for such rare medicine, I feel that others would also be very much in need of it," Koyanskaya said, toying with her fingers and sounding hesitant.
"I'll pay ten times the price," Pablo said in a deep voice.
"Understood. I will make a note of it," Koyanskaya replied readily, a flash of light appearing in her eyes at the prospect of money.
"This person's body is so rotten now that she's useless. Oh well, since I spent a large amount of money on her, it would be a waste to just throw her away like this. In the future, I'll leave it to you to taste-test the new 'drug' dishes I develop in my kitchen," Pablo said, patting the model's face with a smile.
"Yes..." the model replied with a blank face. By now, she had lost not only her dignity but also the heart to discard everything for her own desires; she had become a doll to be manipulated at will.
"Good! Very good!" Pablo stroked the model's head like a pet, a ferocious smile on his face. The shadows on either side of his aquiline nose grew darker; his entire face was cast in gloom, radiating madness. He could already see his brilliant, glorious future—even conquering the whole world was not impossible.
Pablo chuckled, his voice rasping from his throat: "Heh heh heh... next, once the opportunity arises, I'll treat them to a big meal. Should I ruin their reputations and have them commit suicide? Or would it be better to keep them by my side as profitable puppets? Heh heh heh... I'm really looking forward to it..."
With the medicine in this bottle, he would unify Europe and make Britain understand that she wasn't going to get away that easily. As for Japan's Nakiri Senzaemon, and even the old Chinese God of Cooking, their entire family assets and influence would be absorbed by him.
Anyone like that "Masked Kid" who dared to provoke him would be liquidated one by one, turned into a stray dog—no, a beast worse than a dog.
He had already planned how to treat the Masked Kid. He would peel off that red mask with his own hands, then use a silver spoon to gouge out his eyes, chicken shears to cut off his tongue, a serrated knife to slice off his nose, and finally, chop off his fingers and toes.
Of course, he wouldn't let him off just like that. Pablo would heal all his wounds and keep him in captivity.
He would feed him fat and oil as water, give him Snickers as feed, fatten him up, and then throw him into the pigsty of his private farm to be a stud boar. He wanted the whole world to see what kind of end awaited those who offended him.
"Heh heh heh, indeed, I am truly looking forward to it," Koyanskaya remarked from the side, covering her mouth as she laughed.
A few dozen minutes earlier, on the other side, after saying goodbye to her grandfather, the blonde woman had hurried to the lounge where Masked X was staying and knocked on the door. "It's me."
"Please, come in," a fresh, crisp voice replied from inside.
Erina turned the handle and walked in. The luxurious lounge was occupied only by the tall man in red.
"Erina, I was just thinking you would be coming over soon." Shirou removed his mask, turned to look at her, and smiled lightly.
"What is that supposed to mean? I didn't rush over here just to see you!" Erina blushed, shouting indignantly.
"Your expressions are truly something one never tires of seeing. Thank you." Shirou stepped forward and embraced the girl.
"Wu... mmm." Erina buried her head deeply into Shirou's chest, her head practically steaming as she responded.
After a moment of tenderness, the two separated.
Erina warned him with a serious expression: "Also! Shirou! About that Pablo—I had someone collect information on him and contacted my uncle in Northern Europe. Shirou, you must be careful!"
"Mm, I understand. I will be careful," Shirou nodded, promising earnestly.
Although he wasn't sure what Lord El-Melloi II had discovered, he had probed Pablo earlier and hadn't expected the man to endure it. But the more he endured, the more certain Shirou became that there was definitely something wrong behind the scenes with Pablo.
For someone who was normally so arrogant and conceited that he wouldn't change his mocking face even when competing in a world-level tournament in a foreign country, to now endure even a direct provocation—it was highly likely he was hiding a conspiracy that made such patience worthwhile.
Shirou had no hard evidence, but he had something even more powerful to confirm this fact.
Some things were destined to be inescapable; fate leads you to meet certain people or things—like a Holy Grail, or "woman trouble"...
In this world, Shirou lived with a "Buddhist-like" attitude. He understood his own issues and disliked the traits he possessed. Because of this, he wore a mask and tried to go out as little as possible to minimize the influence of his "body prone to attracting women."
But beyond that, he possessed another trait: once he encountered such things, they were basically unavoidable.
That was the "Partner of Justice" constitution. Much like a certain death-god elementary schooler, no matter where he went, he would always run into strange events. The difference was that the elementary schooler encountered cases, and as long as it wasn't a movie, the culprit would obediently confess and be arrested once the case was solved.
Shirou, however, had to face a bunch of lawless villains—some of whom weren't even human.
Generally speaking, villains who openly displayed hostility toward him and whose moral character was questionable never ended well. The stronger they were, the more heinous and insane they tended to be.
"To be honest... this is really troublesome." Shirou sighed with dead-fish eyes. This was the so-called fate of a protagonist.
"What's wrong?" Erina asked, looking at Shirou in confusion.
"No, I was just thinking that I must thank you, Erina." Shirou embraced her again, breathing in the scent of her elegant blonde hair.
"Thank me for what?" Erina asked softly. She rested her head in his chest, reached out to wrap her arms around him, and stroked his back with her fair hands.
"Thank you for dragging me into this tournament. Otherwise, I wouldn't have met so many interesting opponents and judges," Shirou exclaimed. Although, it came with corresponding dangers.
But Shirou had come to terms with it. To live in this world, if you encounter certain things, they are unavoidable. You must find a way to face and resolve them, otherwise, things will only get worse. Even if one lives with a "Buddhist" or "Taoist" mindset, what must be faced must be faced.
"Erina! No matter what happens, I will protect you and take good care of you." Shirou looked affectionately at the blonde girl, reached out a hand to gently brush away the strands of hair on her cheek, and kissed her.
"Shirou..." Ripples appeared in Erina's eyes, like a tender lotus bud poking its head out of a summer pond, ready to bloom.
Yes, no one could interfere with their relationship—neither the stakeholders of the Nakiri Group nor the villains from wherever they came. Shirou made a vow in his heart: he would stay with Erina forever, and they would definitely find happiness.
As Shirou embraced her—the woman he swore to protect for the rest of his life—influenced by memories of another world, his hand inadvertently reached into her clothes. His skilled and gentle movements did not alert the captivated girl; they reached their target unimpeded, moving from bottom to top.
Click. The clasp of her undergarment was instantly undone.
At that moment, Erina, with a face flushed bright red, pushed Shirou away and crossed her arms over her chest. "Hah! What do you think you're doing?! To think you said such touching words just to do this! Go to hell! Shirou, are you an idiot~?! Idiot~!"
However, very soon she couldn't say anything more, because Shirou had completely sealed her lips...
After that, the rest time ended, and the contestants returned to the stage for the third round.
But there, once again, no gatekeeper appeared.
"What's going on? Hasn't the judge appeared yet?" the audience on TV and the internet asked in confusion.
A short while later, the host, Ms. Cleopatra, walked out with the stride of a world-class supermodel. Following behind her was a woman with long red hair—one of the five judges announced previously.
"Lady Boudica has personally come down from the top level to meet everyone, despite having to change the originally specified rules," Cleopatra announced.
"Hello, everyone," Boudica said with a gentle, kind smile, waving at the camera.
Boudica had come here herself this time to meet the four contestants. She felt that since she was going to taste the dishes the chefs had prepared for her, it would be a bit heartless not to meet them and speak with them.
The TV ratings began to climb, and the internet became lively.
"Oh! Isn't that the beautiful and intelligent woman who appeared at the press conference last time?"
"Is this... maternal love? I feel like just being watched by her gentle gaze heals my whole being."
"I really want her to give me a lap pillow and clean my ears."
As expected of the "big sister" of everyone in Chaldea, her mere appearance filled people with goodwill.
Boudica was, after all, an ancient queen of eastern England, possessing both an aura of approachability and her own convictions and majesty.
Her husband was a vassal king supported by Rome, later killed by the Romans who wanted to annex England; her homeland was also occupied by the Romans.
Consequently, Boudica raised the banner of revenge and resistance. With an approachability that made her treat all her countrymen as her own children and descendants, she united the Celtic barbarians. Driving a war chariot, carrying her brave and battle-hardened children, and leading the various Celtic tribes invaded by Rome, she launched a massive counterattack. For
a time, she achieved victory and captured several cities. Unfortunately, due to a lack of resources, the food supply on the island was critical, and the food in the captured cities had been burned by the Roman army at the time.
The Celtic peoples of the various tribes, united only by temporary anger, fell apart because of the food crisis, becoming a disorganized rabble.
The Roman army took the opportunity to counterattack, and East England was defeated. Although Boudica herself escaped back to the battlefield and returned to the tribe, her children were captured on the battlefield, subjected to cruel treatment by Roman soldiers, and humiliated to death. Shedding tears, Boudica drank poison and disappeared forever, taking all the country's treasures with her.
To commemorate her brave fighting against the invaders and her benevolence toward her people, later generations of British people erected a statue of her. To this day, the statue of Queen Boudica and her daughters driving a scythed chariot stands at the western end of Westminster Bridge, spanning the River Thames, looking across the street at the Clock Tower. Her story is thus well known to the world.
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