He ran a hand over the "Ninth Law" talisman in his coat pocket, adjusting his height and facial details until he was indistinguishable from Admiral Emirius Levet. Leaving through another door in the storage room, he walked down the quiet corridor toward the main building of the Governor's Office. Along the way, servants and maids passed by, but none dared look directly at him—upon seeing the naval admiral's uniform, they all hurried to the sides and bowed respectfully. Anyone of similar height wearing that uniform would likely blend right into the ballroom. Indeed, sometimes, playing a prominent figure is easier than playing an ordinary person. Keeping a steady, serious demeanor,克莱恩 walked slowly and deliberately down the passage paved with black stone. Subtle, beautiful melodies drifted in and out of hearing, while elegant gas lamps on either side burned steadily, illuminating the otherwise dark surroundings. As Crane approached a lounge, he found the door open and a middle-aged man already stepping out, as if waiting. The man had black hair and blue eyes, with facial features resembling Emile by about five or six degrees—though his forehead was slightly higher, his eyes slightly puffy, and his mouth still lifted. He was Emile Levet's younger brother, Oston Levet. Once a naval officer, Oston had risen through the ranks to the rank of colonel, thanks to his achievements in the colonial settlements of the southern continent. Later, growing weary of military life and influenced by political considerations, he accepted an appointment as governor. Over the five or six years he had served in Orlavi, he had actively promoted the Levet family's acquisition of vast tracts of farmland and estates, securing for himself a substantial landholding. This does not mean that they achieved everything solely through power. The Aston and Levet families invested substantial sums—indeed, they even secured bank loans—and did not acquire the lands originally belonging to the Fussac people at the remarkably low prices seen along the Bayland Coast. Of course, if he were not the Governor of Orlavi and his brother not the Supreme Commander of the Navy in the Central Sunia Sea, it would have been far more difficult for the Levet family to persuade the target to sell off their prime farmlands or estates. The test had come… Caine calmly approached, stopping directly before Aston Levet. Aston glanced to his left and right, then spoke in a low tone: “How has that matter progressed?” What matter… Caine first felt puzzled, then recalled a passage from the materials—“If Aston requests a private conversation or directly asks for a response on a specific matter, simply inform him that the answer will be provided upon his departure from Orlavi.” "Indeed, exactly as Emeric had anticipated. I merely need to pay attention to my tone and demeanor—well, and to the unique vocabulary and intonations of the Ruin nobility..." Caine nodded gently, speaking seriously: "Wait a few more days. I'll tell you the answer when we leave Orlavi." Oston didn't seem puzzled, merely smiled lightly: "You seem to be waiting for something that gives you the strength to decide." The very thing that had compelled Emeric, the Marshal, to act alone? Caine's mind stirred, and with the practiced grace of a high-ranking noble, he replied: "Set aside your speculations." With that, he moved from stillness to motion, stepping forward toward the banqueting hall. Oston Levitt watched his brother's back, his expression gradually growing colder, barely shaking his head. Upon entering the hall, Caine surveyed the room, then walked toward the long table where the food was laid out, pausing occasionally to exchange a few polite greetings with those nearby. Throughout this process, he realized he didn't need to understand the topics the conversationalists raised at all—just occasionally nodding was enough to keep the conversation flowing harmoniously and pleasantly, until it naturally concluded. Indeed, the stature of a prominent figure made certain aspects of his performance easier, but at the same time, other elements became more challenging... Klein navigated through numerous "obstacles" and finally reached the long table. He casually picked up a plate, mentally noting that Admiral Emirius favored fish, beef, and shrimp, and disliked chicken and geese, so he avoided roasted chicken and Beckett-style roasted goose, opting instead for beef steak, pan-seared bone-in fish, and creamed cheese-baked Oravie giant shrimp. Since the metal plates were placed either on stone or beneath hot coals, or atop containers filled with hot water, the dishes remained warm, and when Klein took his first bite, he was so moved he nearly lost his composed persona. He worked hard to maintain the image of General Emmerich, holding his tray and engaging in earnest conversations with city councilors, naval agents, and other assorted figures, listening intently to their words and occasionally taking small bites of food. He had noticed a young man in a tailored suit always staying close at a distance. The man had neatly combed, dark hair with a slightly high hairline, light blue eyes, and a refined, well-mannered appearance. Consistent with the photograph, Emmerich's secretary, Lurian... Clary restrained himself, refrained from looking at him, and made sure to finish his meal before the banquet concluded. After leaving the governor's office, Clary boarded the carriage protected by the general's guard, taking a seat beside the wine cabinet. Lurian, the man in the golden hair, entered with him, his boots moving silently across the thick, plush carpet and settling quietly opposite Clary. He sat down, but only two-thirds of his seat pressed against the space. The carriage began to move, and Lurian extracted a stack of documents from the black briefcase he was carrying. "Sir, this is the consolidated account submitted by the Naval Base of Orlavi for the year 1349," he said. Caine took the documents and flipped through a few pages, scanning them. What? A roll of toilet paper costs a pound? The naval base's bathing halls have been renovated twenty times in a single year? Caine made a quick calculation and immediately spotted numerous inconsistencies. Is the accounting approach too simplistic and blunt? I could actually offer them a full course—dedicated solely to teaching them how to submit proper expense claims... Caine began to think carefully about how he should present himself. —in his view, the greatest challenge in concealing Emery lay precisely in convincing Lurian. This does not mean that the Governor of Auston and Miss Cynthia have not been familiar with the Admiral Emilius through their secretary, but rather that, as a brother, Auston, even upon discovering issues and receiving hints, might help conceal them from his elder brother; similarly, as Cynthia's mistress, she naturally tends to assist in shielding the Admiral. Of course, it cannot be ruled out that Cynthia might be a spy or be exploited by one, yet none of these poses a greater risk than Lurian, who himself serves as a supervisor. It is essential that no issues be exposed—what would be Admiral Emilius's reaction to such a report? Would he be furious, or feign fury? No, the personnel at the Orlavi Naval Base would not dare to submit such a clearly problematic report, treating the Admiral as blind; they must have a certain level of confidence and mutual understanding. Since there are no similar instances in the records, Caine can only make his judgment based on his own experience. Moreover, he could confirm that the report from the Naval Base of Olaavi either fell outside Admiral Emirius's expectations or was deemed less significant—merely a routine matter that could be easily managed. Regardless of which scenario held true, it could be handled with the typical demeanor of a superior: one of non-commitment. Klein folded the documents and returned them to the blonde secretary, Lurin, with no expression, simply saying, "Place it on my desk." The unspoken implication—"I'll take a closer look"—could be interpreted differently depending on the reader's perspective: if the Olaavi Naval Base had launched an unexpected initiative, this statement would suggest that the Admiral was somewhat dissatisfied and would now be awaiting an explanation. If this is something both parties have long understood, it indicates that Admiral Emirius hopes to secure greater benefits. As for whether this might cause friction with others, Caine is completely indifferent—after all, in a few days he won't even be Emirius Levieth anymore. He believes the true half-god will surely find ways to calm his subordinates' frustrations. Moreover, he is especially grateful that Emirius is not a half-god of the Storm Church, otherwise, at this very moment, he would have to decide whether to nod and approve the report, or grow impatient and return it, even tossing a few people into the sea to feed the fish. "Yes, Admiral," the blonde secretary, Lur, maintained his composed expression, smoothly placing the documents back into the black file folder as if expecting this all along. On the journey ahead, Caine followed Emirius Levieth's usual habits—leaning back against the carriage wall, half-closing his eyes as though deep in thought, though in reality, he was thinking of nothing at all. Lur remained silent throughout, never daring to break the quiet. One after another, towering iron-black gas lamps swept swiftly past as the carriage approached the naval base and turned into a house set within a garden and lawn. As Crane stepped onto the steps, a butler opened the door, and several servants stood respectfully on either side. The living room was elegantly furnished, adorned with landscape paintings hung on the walls, classical marble statues, and simple vases, with a subtle, lingering fragrance drifting through the air, gently filling his lungs. Rather than feeling relaxed, Crane found himself subtly tense, as a beautiful young lady in a domestic dress approached him. She was in her early twenties, with lustrous golden hair flowing down her back, and her blue eyes seemed to hold a quiet radiance—both graceful and feminine, yet still retaining a touch of youthful charm. She was Cynthia, the lady-in-waiting to Admiral Emery. Crane managed to steady his inner unease, smiled warmly at her, and then opened his arms. Cynthia leaned into his arms, lifted her toes slightly, and whispered a soft laugh against his cheek: "Sir, I've already heated the water and placed it in the bathtub." They'd always been monitoring the timing of the dinner—how difficult it must be to be a mistress... Emirius truly enjoyed hot baths, both for relaxation and for thinking. Yet, he remained unaware of the close contact between their cheeks, allowing his thoughts to wander freely. As a man with a conventional orientation, he should have found the proximity to such a beautiful woman both awkward and pleasant—but the temporary arrangement left him entirely unmoved, resulting only in discomfort. "Excellent," he praised, gently pushing her aside with both hands, which felt oddly unplaced. Knowing that the General preferred not to be seen in intimate moments before the servants, Cynthia stepped back gracefully, guiding Clain up to the second floor and into the bathroom, where she prepared a bathrobe for him. After completing all this, Cynthia instructed the servants not to come up to the second floor unless they heard the sound of the bell, then returned to her bedroom, removed all her garments, and donned a pure silk robe. A peculiar pendant hung from the edge of the robe's collar—shaped like a black rhinoceros horn reduced to the length of a finger. Cynthia removed the pendant and tucked it beneath the pillow, then, feeling a little shy and hesitant, left the bedroom and went to the bathroom where the general was bathing. With courage, she turned the handle. Click. Her hand paused, and she realized the bathroom door had been locked without her knowing. Cynthia looked puzzled and instinctively turned the handle again. Click. Click. The bathroom door remained firmly closed. P.S. Wishing everyone a happy New Year and all the best in the year ahead!