Chapter 60: An Interlude Before Negotiations

Kazimierz.

The grand banquet hall of the Commerce Union.

As filthy and desperate as the outer slums were, this epicenter of wealth was equally glamorous and blinding.

Magnificent golden chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, adorned with thousands of scented candles.

Each pillar of wax was carefully carved with complex geometric patterns, though in such a palatial, overwhelming space, not a single guest paid them any mind.

The merchants and corporate elites swirling through the hall held crystal flutes of champagne.

They engaged in endless, back-and-forth banter, stepping through the motions of a hypocritical waltz.

Boutonnieres pinned to tailored lapels and diamond brooches resting against plunging necklines caught the ambient light, reflecting a cold, expensive glow.

Sona pursed her lips.

She lowered her gaze, desperately trying to make her presence as small as physically possible.

She was only here to fulfill the terms of her precarious deal with the Adeptus Spokoj.

In exchange for their protection over the homeless Infected hiding in the city’s underbelly, she had to eavesdrop on the Commerce Union’s latest movements.

The Flametail Knight’s blade was invincible under the blinding lights of the arena.

But infiltrating a den of vipers while stuffed into a lavish, restrictive dress was clearly not a problem she could solve by swinging a sword.

‘Damn it…

why do these noble lords like such tight corsets?’ She felt like her ribs were being crushed.

Every shallow breath was a struggle.

Sona forced a stiff, practiced smile onto her face.

Recalling the hasty instructions her fellow knights had drilled into her, she gathered the heavy folds of her skirt in one hand and balanced a half-empty champagne flute in the other.

She attempted to squeeze through the dense, perfumed crowd.

The perimeter guards were already casting suspicious, lingering glances in her direction.

Moving against the flow of the arrogant elite, she struggled her way toward a towering chocolate fountain situated in a relatively deserted corner of the hall.

Only here did the pungent, suffocating scent of designer perfume finally release its grip on her sensitive nose.

She leaned against the edge of the table, taking a quiet, desperate gasp of air.

Beside the cascading fountain stood a white-haired youth.

He seemed to be seeking the exact same peace and quiet she was, casually dipping a fluffy marshmallow into the dark, liquid curtain.

Sona did not recognize the luxury brands favored by the rich, but his face looked entirely too young, and his dark suit lacked the flashy, ostentatious trim of the corporate elites.

She immediately assumed he was a nobody.

A low-status tagalong.

The youth’s eyes lit up the moment he noticed her.

He waved the chocolate-coated marshmallow in his hand.

“Want a taste?

Good stuff.

Imported straight from Laterano.”

Sona hesitated.

To avoid blowing her cover, she decided to play along.

She picked up a silver fork, skewered a piece of the white, pillowy confection, and held it under the chocolate waterfall.

She took a bite.

‘So…

so sweet!’

Sona’s eyes widened, practically sparkling.

She had never tasted anything so rich and sugary in her entire life.

The youth skewered another piece, his expression one of pure, unadulterated enjoyment.

As he rolled it through the syrup, he spoke in a casual, conversational tone.

“This is premium chocolate syrup, flown directly from Laterano to Kazimierz via high-speed aircraft.

The logistical cost of running just this one fountain for a single night is enough to make two Star Knights willingly step into an Octagon for a brutal deathmatch.”

He gestured vaguely across the room with his fork.

“And there are four more fountains exactly like this one scattered around the hall.

Once the banquet wraps up, they’ll just dump it all out as trash.

It’s a real pity.

Aside from me, it seems no one in this room actually likes eating it.”

Sona remained completely silent.

She just rapidly ate two more pieces in a row.

The nearby security guard finally reached his limit.

He stepped forward, his hand resting on his baton.

From the moment this girl had entered, she had been wearing a painfully cheap dress and bumping through the venue without a shred of proper noble etiquette.

The security team had only refrained from throwing the free-loader out onto the street because they feared accidentally offending one of the eccentric big shots.

But now she had actually managed to mingle with a core VIP of the banquet?

“Sir,” the guard began, his tone tight with suspicion.

“Do you…

know this girl?”

Sona’s squirrel ears twitched beneath her hair.

‘What do I do…

they figured it out…’

To her absolute surprise, the white-haired youth did not show a single ounce of panic.

Instead, he smoothly stepped in to cover for her.

“I know her.

Why?

Is there a problem?”

The guard looked at the red-haired girl.

She clearly had not received a day of upper-class education in her life.

Then, the guard slowly turned his gaze to the rest of the youth’s entourage.

In the dim corner stood a massive, heavily armored guard, completely silent but eating at a terrifying pace.

Darting between the dessert tables was a red-haired Sankta girl, ruthlessly consuming every single slice of apple pie in sight.

And sitting on a plush Windsor chair was a Lupo woman, her expression so deeply cold and refined that she looked more aristocratic than the actual hosts, causing wave after wave of passing nobles to mistake her identity.

Faced with this bizarre, terrifyingly eclectic group…

the guard actually accepted the situation quite easily.

“N-No problem at all, sir.

My apologies.” The dejected guard bowed his head and scurried away.

Sona let out a long, shaky breath.

She looked up at the youth, keeping her voice to a harsh whisper.

“Why did you help me?”

The youth leaned in, matching her low volume.

“Because I don’t like them either.”

Sona sighed.

A sudden, heavy sense of shared plight washed over her.

“Then what are you doing in a place like this?”

The youth let out a weary sigh of his own.

“My family can barely put food on the table.

I need their money and power.”

Sona’s eyes softened.

Understood.

He was just another poor soul forced to rely on the Commerce Union, waiting desperately for whatever scraps might fall through their greedy fingers.

She patted her chest, making a silent, solemn vow to herself.

‘I won’t get you involved in this.’

After offering a hurried, polite goodbye to the youth, Sona slipped away, blending back into the dense crowd.

She resumed her mission, capturing fragmented snippets of information from the casual conversations drifting around her.

For some reason, her probing felt significantly easier this time.

The guards were actively looking the other way.

“Commerce Union…” “Deep cooperation…” “unmatched opportunity…” “Rhodes Island…” “Competitive Arts…”

‘Sounds like just another hypocritical charitable enterprise,’ Sona thought bitterly.

Kazimierz used to have plenty of charitable organizations.

They would rally the public, using the noble excuse of “improving living conditions for the Infected” to ruthlessly exploit their pain and misery for corporate profit.

In the end, not a single cent ever reached the people bleeding in the slums.

Fortunately, if the rich refused to give it, the Infected would simply take it themselves.

Sona slipped behind a velvet curtain.

She struck the back of a neck with the hardened edge of her palm.

Another minor clerk of the Commerce Union instantly lost consciousness, slumping forward.

She caught his weight and quietly dragged him into a deserted, shadowed corner of the hallway.

She checked the clock.

6:45 PM.

According to the classified intelligence provided by the Adeptus Spokoj, the operation was set to go into effect in exactly fifteen minutes.

She had to speed up.

Across the hall, the Lupo woman finally stood up.

Texas approached the white-haired youth, her movements sharp and precise.

She stopped beside him, delivering her reminder in a flat, businesslike tone.

“Doctor.

Fifteen minutes left.”

“You should get ready.”

The youth placed his silver fork down on the table.

The casual, friendly warmth vanished from his face, replaced by a chilling, razor-sharp smile.

He glanced around the opulent hall, ensuring none of the corporate elites dared to eavesdrop on his conversation, before offering a dark, reckless sneer.

“Ready for what?

Ready for the possibility that they might actually swallow their pride and agree to my terms?”

[Rhodes’s Note:

Enjoying the operation so far, Doctor?

(This daily grind literally pays the landship’s rent!

to use the links!)