Sunday, United States of America, New York, 9 PM.
Ezakiel stood on the rooftop of a massive hotel, gazing down at the city below. The neon lights flickered against the darkening sky, illuminating the streets bustling with life—and chaos.
He observed the filth-strewn sidewalks, the honking cars, and the countless people moving like insects in the vast concrete jungle. But among the usual urban noise, his eyes caught something else.
Down in a dimly lit alley, a woman was cornered by three men, her muffled cries going unheard. In another, two Black men were brutally beating a White man, fists slamming into flesh. Further down, a White dealer handed off small packets of drugs to a group of young Black kids. And across the street, mobs of people shattered store windows, looting everything they could carry.
The city pulsed with crime, decay, and desperation.
"So, how do you find New York?"
A deep, smooth voice interrupted his thoughts.
Ezakiel didn't turn. He already knew who it was.
A man in his early 40s stepped beside him. Tall, well-built, and exuding an air of effortless authority, he had striking white hair—medium-length and slightly curled. His eyes, just like Ezakiel's, gleamed a deep crimson, holding an unnatural sharpness. Dressed in an impeccably tailored business suit, he looked every bit the wealthy and powerful figure he was.
This man was none other than his father.
Well… not his father.
The father of the original Ezakiel.
"Utter trash..."
Ezakiel turned away from the view, leaning his back against the rooftop railing. His crimson eyes held no admiration for the city below—only disappointment.
"A total disappointment. Well, I was kind of expecting more from a city in the so-called most powerful country in the world." He scoffed. "But the people here? No class at all. Just total savages."
He lazily lifted a hand and pointed toward the dark alley where the woman was being assaulted. "Just look over there. If they're going to do something like that, at least choose a better place. Why do it in a filthy alley?"
His father chuckled, clearly amused. "And where else would they do it? Look at them—they're just homeless nobodies. It's not like they can afford to rape someone in a five-star hotel suite, you know?"
Ezakiel rolled his eyes. "So what? It's still disgusting. Doesn't make it any less pathetic."
He exhaled, a thought crossing his mind.
'I might be a messed-up person by normal standards, but even I can't stand rape. Not that I'm going to help her. It's sad, but there's nothing I can do. The only one she has to blame is herself. Why the hell was she walking alone at night in such revealing clothes? Some people just invite their own misfortune.'
Without another glance at the scene below, he turned and walked toward a lavishly decorated seating area on the rooftop.
There, his mother sat with an air of effortless elegance. She wore an extravagant red gown, the fabric shimmering under the soft rooftop lights. Her ears were adorned with diamond earrings, and a necklace of the same quality rested on her neck. In her hand, she held a glass of orange juice, swirling it lazily.
"So back from the view so soon? I thought you two would take your time," she said before taking a slow sip from her glass.
Ezakiel scoffed. "What view? There was nothing worth looking at."
His mother glanced at his father, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "You know," she mused, tilting her head slightly. "It's kind of strange, isn't it?"
His father smirked. "Quite."
"What are you two talking about?" Ezakiel asked, though he already knew the answer. "If this is about my recent behavior, then let me make it clear—I've always been like this. I just never cared to show it before. That's all there is to it, and there's nothing more to discuss."
His mother took another slow sip from her glass before setting it down on the table with a soft clink. "Fine then," she said, her tone calm but unreadable. "Now tell me—what are you planning to do next?"
"For now, I'll just take some rest before thinking about my next steps."
Just as he finished speaking, three waiters arrived, each dressed in crisp uniforms. One pushed a wheeled tray carrying a large, perfectly roasted chicken, its golden-brown skin glistening under the light. The other two carried a fresh, vibrant salad and a steaming plate of pasta. Moving with practiced elegance, they carefully placed each dish on the table, making sure everything was positioned just right. Then, with synchronized bows, they silently stepped back and left.
Ezakiel glanced at the food before leaning back in his chair. "Well, at least the service here is decent."
"Of course it would be. This is a five-star hotel, and not just any hotel—our hotel," his father said with a smirk.
His mother leaned in slightly, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. "Speaking of which, why don't you join your father in the business? I'm sure he'd appreciate an extra pair of hands to ease his burden. Right, dear?"
"Of course, why not?" his father chimed in, nodding approvingly.
Ezakiel simply picked up his fork, glancing at them both. "I'll think about it later," he said casually.
I have no interest in taking over the business now. There are far more pressing matters at hand—magical girls and monsters...
Then he spoke up. "Hey, Mother, Father."
Both of them looked at him, attentive. In that instant, his eyes flashed gold for a split second—and in response, their eyes did the same.
From now on, you two are my slaves. You will obey me without question...
We will do as you say, Master, both of them replied in unison, their voices devoid of any hesitation.
If anyone was wondering what had just happened—Ezakiel had hypnotized them, bending their wills to his own. This would ensure they followed his every command without resistance, making them useful tools whenever he needed them.
Unfortunately, this ability only worked on normal humans. Magical girls were completely immune to hypnosis; even if someone managed to bypass their resistance, their passive nullification would activate, rendering it useless. It didn't work on monsters either.
But for now, this was more than enough.
Now act normal and eat the food.
With that silent command, his parents resumed eating as if nothing had happened, their actions smooth and natural, completely unaware of the control he now had over them.
I wish I could have used this ability on Miyuki—make her jump off a cliff or poison herself, taking my possible son or daughter with her. But I can't. The magical girls would trace it back to me in an instant…
He stabbed a piece of roasted chicken with his fork, watching the juices spill onto the plate.
No matter. I'll just use my parents to get rid of her instead.
Then, looking at his mother—her beautiful face, hazel eyes, and soft, fluffy lips—something stirred inside him.
A thought.
He wasn't sure if he truly needed to do this or not, but the urge was there, gnawing at him. And he couldn't resist it.
Hey, Mother… come to my room after we're done eating.
His mother, still calmly eating, paused for a moment. Then, without hesitation, she nodded.
Of course, master. I will come after dinner.
Ezakiel smirked slightly, taking another bite of his food.
Good.
Call him a hypocrite if you want—he wouldn't deny it. In fact, he was one.
But honestly? He didn't care.
Besides, technically, he had her consent.
So it wasn't a bad thing.