Sophia stood with a sullen face, arms crossed. The lightweight bulletproof armor and exoskeleton under her black leather trench coat supported her spine, allowing her to stare directly at the increasingly impatient Stephanie. The ornate silver vine-like circlet, adorned with a crimson ruby, glittered under the desk lamp, and combined with the specially designed administrative uniform of Immortal City, made Stephanie look like a magnificent dragon lurking in the shadows, ready to devour anyone who approached.
"I am loyal to the Sovereign because my father was loyal to him." After a moment of silence, Sophia finally spoke again, breaking the tension in the office. "I will uphold the fate my father entrusted to our people," she said. "But my father already paid too high a price to protect that secret. Not even the Sovereign has the right to ask for more."
She let out a snort, like the low twang of a drawn bow. "They already treat your Sovereign like a god. You should see how my people act."
"You know that kind of thing is not allowed, Sophia. The Sovereign despises superstition. He agreed to let your people maintain their beliefs only out of respect for the Prophet's wishes—not so they could start worshipping him as a god."
Annoyed, Stephanie took off the bracelet on her wrist to stop the constant stream of blood pressure and heart rate data from interfering with her mental calculations. This piece of Wakandan civilian tech monitored her physical condition to ensure she remained healthy enough to manage Immortal City and its vast empire of operations. It happened to be her ovulation period these days, and she felt a rising irritability she could not suppress. Still, Stephanie took a deep breath and faced Sophia with her usual cold, professional demeanor.
Sometimes, she remembered the little gifts Solomon sent her every month—and how she, like a girl waiting for her birthday, found herself looking forward to what this month's gift might be.
"And it's our Sovereign. Watch your wording. You are not your father, and your people are not him. You and your people must remember that your survival was bought with a thousand years of sacrifice by your father," she said. "You should be grateful for the Sovereign's tolerance. After learning a secret that massive, he didn't order your purge. I don't know why the Sovereign trusted your father so much, but he clearly wasn't wrong. They were fighting for the same goal—everyone is preparing for the same war."
"He hopes you can carry on your father's mission. Don't disappoint the Sovereign or your father, Sophia. In the brutal, dark future ahead, there's no room for sentiment. The Sovereign doesn't want you to become cannon fodder. Neither do I."
After Sophia left, the office returned to silence, save for the pleasant rustling of paper.
"What do you think of all this, Mr. Whitehall?" Stephanie turned her head toward the computer screen, looking at a digitally rendered face. Dr. Whitehall's expression was still calm and refined. Though his body was gone, his brain continued to function. He was not only an advisor to the bio lab but also an internal affairs consultant in Stephanie's department. Aside from a select few, no one had access to Whitehall. He could only be activated at designated times—after all, the idea of using brain-computer interfaces to upload knowledge originated with him. It was once a brainwashing technique used by both HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D., but now the same principle was applied to other fields.
As one of the surviving HYDRA heads, Whitehall's methods were deeply inhumane, but his intelligence was undeniable. Stephanie had tried learning HYDRA's past administrative and operational techniques through Whitehall's brain. Solomon had approved this, but not without repeatedly warning her never to trust the brain too much, and never to agree to any of its terms. Compared to devils in hell, Whitehall—though human—was even more cunning.
"Why are you so devoted to helping that man, Stephanie?" Dr. Whitehall asked in a mild tone with a German accent. "I heard about the birth of Gideon's daughter when I was in prison, and I've seen your photo. But what I didn't expect was that you would develop the kind of emotions women typically do. Do you think you should adjust your hormone levels?"
"I'm not doing this out of love, Whitehall. What the Sovereign gave me was purpose."
"Forgive my prejudice and stereotypes, madam. It's hard to learn new things once you're dead—I've learned that firsthand, especially since my soul is already gone. I'm just a collection of consciousness now, am I not? Quite a curious experience." The HYDRA brain mused. "But your hormone levels suggest you have very strong feelings for him. And he, in turn, has given you all his trust and power. The body does not lie. I don't know how he won over your father, but from what I've learned in my nutrient tank, your Sovereign is someone with truly grand ambitions. People like that don't feel emotions, Stephanie. Did he threaten you with death?"
"What are you trying to say?" Stephanie paused her pen and stared at the screen. Her internal alarm suddenly spiked. The intelligence boost from the circlet let her pick up on certain clues. She decided to hear Whitehall out.
Whitehall smiled—or rather, his brain sent out a signal to simulate a smile, which was then rendered by a specific program.
"You're a HYDRA daughter, aren't you?" he said with a smile. "A textbook HYDRA."
"I was."
"You still are. You want to bear his child, don't you?" Whitehall blinked. "He's an extraordinarily charming gentleman. It's perfectly natural for you to have such thoughts."
"So what if I do?"
"But you're HYDRA, Stephanie. Your lust for power and your sexual desire are inseparable. You are HYDRA—albeit one of the conservatives who still believe in those ancient myths—but HYDRA nonetheless. Every time you sit in that chair, your psyche is satisfied."
Stephanie remained silent. Whitehall was speaking the truth. In all her fantasies, only this office, this soft chair, and Solomon remained unchanged. This was her most hidden, shameful secret craving—one that crept into her soul like the humid, stifling air of a summer midnight.
"If you don't mind, I could offer a suggestion. Don't worry, your loyalty won't waver—you believe that too, don't you?" Whitehall said softly. "Of course, you only need to listen. The choice is always yours. You always have the power to choose."
"Are you really so comfortable handing all your power over to that HYDRA girl, Boya?" Bayonetta, wearing oversized sunglasses, drew many eyes. Her dazzling figure was far more attention-grabbing than the raging bulls or the flamboyant matadors below. But the witch sitting in the stands wasn't focused on the arena. She was looking at the face of the tall boy beside her. When Bayonetta asked her question, Solomon simply smiled.
They were in Pamplona, capital of the autonomous community of Navarre in Spain, attending the traditional Running of the Bulls. Solomon had specially acquired tickets to the Madrid bullfighting ring to let the witch experience the intensity of the spectacle. But bullfighting wasn't what it used to be—thanks to meddling animal rights activists, the actual blood rites of the event had been canceled.
For the occasion, Bayonetta had dressed in a red mermaid gown with lace trim, a look that accentuated her curves even more than the bullfight itself.
"Give Stephanie some trust," he said. "The HYDRA family is true Old Money. Stephanie received an excellent education—she even holds a business degree. Most of my subordinates are either scientists or fighters. There aren't many who can manage administration."
"Is that really all?" Before Solomon could answer, Bayonetta glanced at the frenzied bull rushing the matador who had been waving his cape. Just as the red-clad matador began wondering why the bull had suddenly changed direction, it charged toward the row where she and Solomon sat—carrying a raging knight on its back.
The arcane master shook his head helplessly.
He stood up slowly, stretched out his hands, and caught the charging bull by its horns, slamming the furious beast down into the sand.
"Well done, Boya~" Bayonetta laughed heartily. Her long, shapely legs kicked up beneath her skirt, and she blew Solomon a kiss. "Think you'll have that much energy tonight too?"
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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