Saiyan stowaways on the Ark

As he spoke, he threw the pile of wallets on the ground, then clasped his hands together and cracked his knuckles, making a crisp popping sound.

"It's clear from what I just saw that you're their leader, or at least you have some standing among this group."

"So tell me, with all your underlings lying down, what should you, as the boss, do now?"

Thomas pressed closer, while the thug dared not take his eyes off the man in front of him, while hoping that someone else would stand up to help.

The bizarre situation threw him into a panic. His previous robberies had gone smoothly, but today he had run into a tough opponent whose background he couldn't figure out.

Only Thomas was still enjoying this trivial pleasure—turning the self-assured gang leader into a lone commander, making him realize that he was a useless guy without anyone else's help.

Although the person who fell was only dislocated in the jaw and suffered a concussion from Tomat's quick punch, and would wake up after being unconscious for a while, to the gang leader, it was probably no different from being dead for the others.

Fear surged through him, and the thought of resistance was extinguished. He had no time to think about the questions Tomat had raised; only one impulse remained in his mind—to escape as quickly as possible.

The pain from the burns on his hands had been suppressed by the adrenaline surge from fear. He yelled, turned around, and after running only a few steps, he fell face-first into the mud. Then he began to run away on all fours, disappearing into the depths of the alley in no time.

"As the boss, you're really not loyal enough. You're abandoning your underlings and the car."

He grabbed a few people and tossed them to the sides of the road like trash, clearing the road blocked by the unconscious thugs. Tomat got into the car and sat in the driver's seat as if nothing had happened, starting the engine.

"Not only did you not kill them, you let one person go? You know what's going to happen next, right?"

Although Froststar kept her eyes on her terminal, she was still paying attention to what was happening outside.

"They're just a bunch of low-level thugs so poor they have to rob to make money. A little intimidation is enough; as for what happens next..."

Thomas stepped on the gas and continued:

"If next time they really send a group of people who aren't after money but want to kill, then it'll be their turn to worry about what might happen."

[Main Text] The Saiyans' Daily Life on Terra: Chapter Eleven: Should we take a bath first, eat first, or...?

"Found it. There's a hotel on the intercity network that I highly recommend to travelers, and it's not too far from here."

"Are you sure? You know, the road we took before was recommended by the locals, and I'm already thinking about whether I should take some time to go back and beat up that damn gatekeeper."

Although the previous incidents were hardly troublesome, and could even be described as entertainment to pass the time, the ill intentions of those people still lowered Tomat's impression of the city.

The family's name was used to commit crimes and oppress outsiders, which may have happened many times before they arrived. The local authorities seemed to condone such behavior, to the point that even the people in charge of the city's checkpoints would collude with them to lure seemingly easy-to-bully outsiders into ambushes and then rob them.

"The people here all dress up in suits and trousers, but they do the same things as ordinary thugs."

Froststar said as she pointed out the way:

"However, there shouldn't be any problems. That area before was a poorly regulated place, so naturally there were more thugs. The higher-ups just turned a blind eye to their behavior. But in the city center, the local families' management is probably stricter, and the order is better. There shouldn't be any bullying or harassment of men and women in broad daylight."

Then she added:

"...Although even if it really happened, nothing would really happen."

Months of travel had made the vehicle look particularly weathered—driving through the bustling city built by the stylish people of Syracuse, it was indeed a bit conspicuous. However, most of the well-dressed Ruperts and ladies who looked like noblewomen only frowned slightly at this rather unusual vehicle.

After driving for a while, following Froststar's prompting, Tomat parked the car in front of a high-rise hotel that was clearly very well-decorated from the outside.

Before the two could even confirm the location of the parking lot, the Rupert guard, who was standing straight in front of the door, walked up arrogantly and impatiently reminded them:

"If you're delivering goods, why don't you drive around to the back instead of the front entrance? Didn't the boss...?"

"stay."

However, when Thomas rolled down the car window, exuding the same impatience, and interrupted the other person to state his purpose, the man reluctantly apologized and drove off.

"Um, I'm very sorry, I'll inform the front desk immediately."

"and many more."

But before the gatekeeper could take more than a few steps, Tomat called him back and threw the car keys into his hand.

The gatekeeper was stunned for a moment, but then he seemed to have suddenly realized something and put on a fawning smile. He nodded and bowed while gripping the key tightly, watching Tomat and Frostnova get out of the car with utmost respect.

"Go park the car properly, then wash it for me, and find me a good repair shop to get it serviced."

The order was given swiftly and decisively, and the security guard showed no confusion about its contents after receiving the key.

"Oh, yes, yes, I completely forgot. Sir and Miss, please go to the front desk first, and the car keys will be returned to your room shortly."

The doorman drove the car away, and Tomat and Froststar entered the hotel lobby, which was as luxurious as it appeared on the outside, without any hindrance.

"See? Everything is normal."

"Tomat said, turning around."

"How can you be so skilled..."

Frostnova, however, recalled Tomat's words and actions with some surprise.

“Although the car looks dirty, making him think we're just delivery guys or something, we're clean people, right? We're both dressed decently, and as long as we're more respectful than him and don't put on a smile to please others, then this kind of assistant won't risk offending people by stopping them from entering or continuing to look down on them. Unless you want to see the ‘being looked down upon by scum and then slapping the other person in the face’ scenario, then I don't mind acting like a real country bumpkin.”

Tomat explained simply, then added:

"Besides, I've been to many places that are more luxurious and have a higher threshold than this, and I really don't consider this place to be a high-end place."

"for example?"

Froststar asked a question out of curiosity.

"Hmm...for example..."

Thomas pondered for a moment, then replied:

"A fighting arena where anyone with a combat power of less than 1,000 is not allowed to enter?"

The room check-in process at the front desk went surprisingly smoothly. After checking my documents, they didn't even collect a deposit before preparing a double suite for me. There were no extra questions or suspicions. Rather than adhering to the principle of "guests are guests," it was more of an atmosphere of "not wanting to offend anyone who can stay here at will."

"I see. You crossed the desert to get to White City? That must have been quite a journey. Please enjoy the services of our hotel and the local customs and culture. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

The receptionist politely handed over the room key with a gold-stamped Rupertus stamp, and during the brief conversation, she learned that Tomat and Frostnova were not locals.

As a city in Syracuse, White City is also rife with gangs, and as a well-known local hotel, it is also managed by gangs. The front desk staff and the hotel manager are all family members with certain status. After all, such places are not only easy to discover the movement of rival gangs or intelligence on forces from other cities due to the large flow of people, but also suitable for local gangs to hold meetings.

As for the unimportant outsiders, they were mostly given a "warm welcome" and found it difficult to move around in the city, so it was impossible for them to stay here casually.

The outsiders who manage to get here are naturally considered to be tacitly approved by the local families. As for why they weren't notified and didn't question it, it's because they have a clear self-awareness—why would the real big shots tell them everything? If they allow an outsider to enter the city without being bombarded with details, why would they tell these hotel owners?

They don't know the details, but they never provoke others; this is the survival instinct they developed in Syracuse.

With panoramic views from the high-rise balconies, tidy houses, and soft beds—things that are hard to find in the wilderness—they were laid out before them, leaving them momentarily unsure of what to choose. Tomat and Frostnova, however, first followed their instincts and made their decisions.

"I'm going to take a shower first."

"I'll go grab something to eat first; there's a restaurant downstairs..."

"Come and wash with me!"

Of course, sometimes the priorities we make, driven by instinct, are not the same as what we say.

[Main Text] The Saiyans' Daily Life on Terra: Chapter Twelve - The Syracuse Hunter

"You can order food to your room, but I'd still like to eat at the buffet. What about you?"

After changing into his new clothes, Tomat sat on the edge of the bed and turned to look at the bulging blankets behind him.

At his question, a pair of hands reached out from under the blanket near the head of the bed and grabbed the edge, and then Froststar peeked out half of her face from underneath.

Her silver-white hair was disheveled, seemingly from sweat, and her rabbit ears were half-folded. Her eyes were half-open and somewhat hazy, and her usually cold and pale face, with a scar on her nose, was now flushed as if steam were rising from it.

She pulled the blanket up further, covering her shoulders and neck, which bore teeth marks and red spots, and then covered her mouth under the blanket and said:

"You go first, I want to rest a little longer..."

Froststar turned her head to look at the floor-to-ceiling window, which was now covered by curtains. There was no sunlight outside, only neon lights seeping into the somewhat dim room through the gaps.

"It started around noon..."

Froststar muttered to herself, then said:

"I'll go back to sleep for a while... and take a shower when I wake up and regain feeling in my legs..."

"Okay, get some rest."

As he spoke, Tomat placed his hand on Frostnova's head and rubbed it hard a few times, making her already messy hair even more disheveled. He then pushed her back into the blankets, and she didn't protest. It seemed she was really too tired to say a word.

Arriving alone at the buffet restaurant on the first floor, I found it surprisingly quiet since it was nighttime and well past dinner time. This allowed Tomat to freely pile a mountain of food onto his plate, ignoring the chefs' stares. Fish and a wide variety of pasta dishes were local specialties, and there was an abundance of meat sauces to accompany the food. In addition, there were authentic thin-crust pizzas, a specialty of the "birthplace of pizza." In short, he piled the food until it was wobbly and precarious.

If someone takes too much, the restaurant manager will naturally come forward to inquire.

However, if someone takes "too much" and continues to take without regard for others, then hardly anyone dares to approach and ask.

The chefs who watched Tomat take his seat with various complicated expressions quickly realized that their initial worries were unnecessary.

Although they didn't know how Tomat managed to stuff these things, which looked much bigger than his stomach, into his stomach, he did indeed eat everything.

Then they continued to have extra food.

When he was about half full, and around the time the chef started to worry about the inventory, Tomat left the restaurant voluntarily under the awe-inspiring gazes of the others.

I've been working in the desert for a while, so it's nice to have a stroll around the city since it's a rare treat.

He went to the front desk and asked for his car keys. Although he wasn't going to drive around, the car wash had been going on for quite some time, so it was reasonable for him to ask for his keys back. However, the receptionist's expression—even though her excellent professionalism, honed by dealing with family members every day, allowed her to quickly conceal her emotional fluctuations—was for a moment when she seemed to panic.

Then, instead of handing the key to Thomas, he politely and skillfully said:

"You're going to visit Whitetown, right? We've prepared a smaller car for you that's more suitable for sightseeing. The large RV you brought is still undergoing maintenance and isn't really suitable for sightseeing, is it?"

Thomas sighed and did not take the car keys from the receptionist, whose face turned ashen.

Through this simple probe, Thomas roughly understood what had happened.

There's been some trouble with the car. Although we don't know exactly what happened, it looks like tonight's activity will change from "strolling around" to "finding the car."

For Thomas Tomat, the value of this car as a farewell gift is more important than its technological capabilities.

Where did you take your car for maintenance?

"Well... the doorman might know, since he's responsible for parking the car or taking care of it for the guests."

"What about others?"

"I was fired this afternoon."

"..."

Silence is frightening to the other party, just like Tomat did nothing and didn't take the car keys.