FROZEN SOVEREIGN: THE ICEBOUND OVERLORD

Hoarding Fresh Vegetables

CHAPTER FIVE

Zane pushed the door open and stepped into the living room. The first thing he saw was Ruby curled up beside Edgar on the sofa, her hand resting lightly on his chest. Edgar leaned back comfortably with one arm around her shoulders. They didn’t even bother to separate.

Zane clicked his tongue lightly. So, they weren’t even hiding it anymore. 

Ruby glanced at him and smiled — indifferent, almost mocking — as if to say he no longer mattered.

Zane didn’t react. He walked in slowly and stopped a few steps away. 

“Transfer the money.” Straight to the point.

Madelyn, seated across from them, remained calm. She crossed her legs, not even surprised. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Zane’s gaze locked onto her. “You interfered with the auction.”

“Oh?” She raised a brow. “So you actually registered for the auction? The f*e is ten thousand dollars. I didn’t know you could afford that.”

“Drop the act,” Zane said coldly. “Send me my money.”

Madelyn sighed. “Zane, you really should stop imagining things. I don’t even—”

“Five hundred million.”

She stopped. Zane stepped closer, his eyes dark. “That was the final bid.”

Silence filled the room. Ruby stiffened slightly. Madelyn smiled faintly. “Even if that were true… what does it have to do with me?”

Zane chuckled softly. “You contacted them, pressured them, and diverted the real transaction.”

Madelyn’s smile faded. “Careful.”

“Or what?”

Edgar scoffed and stood up. “You’ve got some nerve coming here spouting nonsense—”

Zane moved. “Shut up.”

BAM!

The punch landed clean. Edgar crashed to the floor instantly. Ruby screamed. “Edgar!” She scrambled back, her face pale as she stared at Zane in shock. Edgar groaned, clutching his face, too stunned to stand.

Madelyn shot to her feet. “You—!”

Zane flexed his fingers once and looked at her. “Transfer the money.”

Madelyn’s composure cracked, anger flashing in her eyes. “You think you can threaten me?” she snapped. “Nineteen million is already more than enough for someone like you.” 

Her lips curled. “A delivery boy dreaming of hundreds of millions? Be realistic.” She stepped closer. “We’ll invest it and grow it. That’s far more useful than putting that kind of money in your hands.”

Zane didn’t react. “Transfer it.”

Madelyn laughed coldly. “Or what?”

Zane stepped forward, then leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear. “Then be ready to leave the Vaughn family.” 

Madelyn frowned. “And take your lover with you.”

Her pupils shrank. Zane’s face was emotionless. “Your ‘cousin.’ The HR manager of Vaughn Enterprise.”

Madelyn’s face drained of color.

Zane straightened slowly. “You have ten minutes,” he said quietly. “Transfer every dollar… or I expose everything.”

Ruby looked between them, confused. Edgar was still on the ground. Madelyn stood frozen. 

Zane turned and walked out. 

Four minutes later — DING.

His phone lit up. [500,000,000 USD CREDITED.]

A faint smile curved on his lips.

In his previous life, his uncle, Tristan Vaughn, had died barely a year into the apocalypse after discovering Madelyn’s affair. The shock had killed him instantly. Zane had felt nothing then… and nothing now. Tristan wasn’t a good person to begin with. 

He scoffed lightly and scrolled through his phone, dialing the number he had saved from the bunker magazine.

The call connected after two rings. “Hello, this is Iron Vault Defense Systems, how may we assist you?”

Zane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Hello, Zane Vaughn here. Do you still construct high-grade bunkers?” he asked. “Military standard.”

There was a brief pause. “One moment, please.” 

A few seconds later, a woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello, this is Iron Vault Defense Systems. We specialize in advanced defensive bunkers and fortified shelters using top-grade materials. However—”

“Money isn’t a problem,” Zane cut in.

A soft laugh came from the other end. “In that case, I’ve scheduled an appointment for you at 5:30 PM. The address will be sent to your phone by 5:00.”

“I’ll be there.”

The call ended. Zane exhaled slowly. His shelter was almost secured. Once the bunker was rebuilt and reinforced, it would become a true fortress against the coming apocalypse — only nineteen days away. 

Now… it was time to hoard. 

Back in the bunker, he had noticed a temperature-controlled room, perfect for preserving fresh food. If he wanted to survive long-term, he needed proper nutrition and protection. 

“Medicine… water… arms…” he muttered, typing them into his list. 

He turned slightly. “The best place for fresh supplies… Eden High Vegetable Farm Market.”

---

Zane arrived at Eden High Vegetable Farm Market just as the afternoon crowd thickened. It was almost 1 PM. Vendors shouted prices, customers haggled loudly, and carts rolled back and forth across the dusty ground. 

Zane walked in quietly, his eyes scanning the stalls. He stopped at one of the largest vegetable sections. 

“Boss,” he said, “I want to buy in bulk.”

The vendor glanced at him lazily. “How bulk?”

“All your vegetables.”

The man paused… then burst out laughing. “You?” A few nearby sellers turned to look. “This isn’t charity, young man. Do you even know how much all of these cost?”

Zane didn’t reply immediately. The vendor continued, louder this time. “People like you come here every day asking for ‘bulk’ and end up buying two tomatoes and one onion.”

Laughter spread around. Zane remained calm. “How much?”

The vendor smirked. “Everything here? Around fifty thousand dollars.”

Zane nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Silence. “…What?”

“All of it,” Zane repeated. “Pack it.”

More people gathered.

“Is he serious?”  

“He doesn’t look like it…”  

“Look at his clothes…”

The vendor narrowed his eyes. “Payment first.”

Zane took out his phone. “Account.”

The vendor scoffed but called it out anyway. A few seconds later — **BEEP.** The vendor’s phone lit up. His expression froze. “…Paid.”

The laughter stopped instantly. Zane didn’t even look at him. “Pack everything. Tomatoes, peppers, onions, cabbage, carrots. I want all crates included.”

The vendor snapped out of it. “Y-Yes! Boys! Move everything!”

Workers rushed forward immediately. Zane turned and walked to the next stall. 

“You,” he said. “How many crates?”

The woman blinked. “Fruits… about 40 crates.”

“I’ll take all.”

Within minutes, the entire section was thrown into chaos. Zane moved stall to stall — 65 crates of vegetables, 40 crates of fruits, 25 sacks of potatoes, 30 sacks of onions, 20 bags of dried beans, 85 bags of rice.

At one stall, a man sneered, “Stop pretending. You’ll run once I call the total.”

Zane glanced at him. “Call it.”

“…Three thousand.”

“Account.”

BEEP.

By now, whispers spread like wildfire.

“He’s actually paying…”  

“Who is he?”  

“That’s easily over two hundred thousand already…”

Zane stood in the middle of the market as he thought of what to buy next. One of the earlier vendors approached carefully. “Sir… where should we deliver everything?”

Zane looked at him. “To Nova Domicile.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “That abandoned land?”

Zane didn’t explain. “Deliver everything before evening.”

“Yes, sir!”

Zane went deeper into the market, away from the noisy front stalls and into the older section where long-time vendors stayed. His steps slowed.

Mrs. Benedict.

In his past life, she had been one of the few who treated him kindly. Even when he had little money, she always gave him extra and let him keep the change. He didn’t know what became of her during the apocalypse… But this time — he would help her.

Zane stopped in front of her modest stall. Vegetables were neatly arranged despite the simplicity of the setup. An elderly woman sat behind it, counting small notes. 

“Mrs. Benedict.”

She looked up, adjusting her glasses slightly. “…Zane?” A warm smile spread across her face. “It’s been a while. You don’t come around much these days.”

Zane gave a faint nod. “I’ve been busy.”

She chuckled lightly. “Busy or not, you still need to eat. What do you want today? I’ll give you a good price.”

Zane looked at her stall. “How much for everything here?” he asked.

Mrs. Benedict blinked. “Everything?”

“Yes.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t joke with me. Just take what you need.”

“I’m serious,” Zane said calmly. “All of it.”

She studied his face for a moment, then sighed. “Young people these days…” she muttered, but still calculated quickly. “…About one thousand, five hundred dollars.”

Zane nodded. “I’ll take it.”

Before she could argue, he had already made the transfer. Her small phone beeped. Mrs. Benedict froze. “…You actually paid?”

Zane didn’t respond to that. “Please pack everything,” he said.

She stared at him for a moment longer, then slowly began gathering the vegetables.

“Zane…” she said softly, “did something good happen to you?”

He paused. Then shook his head slightly. “No.” 

He reached into his pocket and brought out more money. Mrs. Benedict frowned. “What’s that for?”

“Keep it,” Zane said.

“You’ve already paid—”

“It’s not for the vegetables.”

She looked confused. “Then what is it for?”

Zane met her eyes. “Stock up,” he said quietly. “Food, water, warm clothes, arms, medicine… anything you can store.”

She laughed lightly. “Are you planning for a disaster or something?”

Zane didn’t smile. “Yes.”

The laughter faded. Mrs. Benedict studied his face carefully this time. “…You’re serious.”

Zane nodded once. “Don’t tell anyone,” he added. “Just prepare.”

She hesitated. “Zane… what’s going on?”

He stepped back. “You’ll understand soon.” 

That was all he said. He turned and began walking away. Behind him, Mrs. Benedict stood still, staring at the money in her hand, her brows slowly knitting together. 

“…What did that boy see?” she murmured.