"Sip—"
The red tea flowed down Rita's throat, its rich and sweet flavor lingering on her palate before leaving a smooth warmth within.
"Good tea. Your skills haven't diminished, Rita."
Zeke casually complimented her, leaning back with one leg crossed, his expression seeming slightly softer as he looked at Rita.
"T-thank you for your kind words, Sir Zeke!" Rita responded with a cautious yet flattering smile.
From what Rita knew, if someone offended Zeke and was part of his inner circle, they might survive after enduring a brutal whipping; otherwise—if rumors were to be believed, Shenzhou's Rebirth Hall offered impeccable and highly professional services—it would probably be wise to book their luxury package, ensuring a more peaceful sleep thereafter.
Am I considered part of Zeke's inner circle?
Considering this question, Rita recalled how she had repeatedly declined Zeke's invitations under Archbishop Otto's banner and remembered numerous instances where she obstructed encounters between Sir Zeke and Lady Durandal, both overtly and covertly. I should look up Rebirth Hall's reservation hotline right away, Rita thought with a composed smile, just in case it becomes necessary.
Holding his teacup, Zeke had no interest in pondering Rita's thoughts. Rubbing his temples to ease the fatigue from deep contemplation, he casually asked, "Dressed so lightly and venturing out late at night—are you feeling quite warm?"
"Oh, yes, indeed it is a bit hot, Sir Zeke."
"Regardless, judging by your state, I doubt you'll be able to sleep soon. I've mostly outlined the main directions and framework; now it's just about filling in gaps and refining details. For starters, please help me review and polish these documents."
"Ah, of course... Wait, what?!"
Feeling her prospects dimming, Rita had resigned herself to despair when she was suddenly confronted with a sea of document windows before her eyes.
Yet, as she stared, they began to sparkle.
Having work meant being valuable, and being valuable implied there was still hope—For Lady Durandal, for Lady Theresa, Rita decided to give it her all, striving to complete this task impeccably!
With renewed determination, Rita spread open the files and swiftly started reviewing them.
Guidelines for Harnessing Public Imagination through the Hive System to Advance Technological Development; Suggestions on Integrating Valkyries and Machinery Troops Organically; Guidelines for Further Purging Outdated Forces; Recommendations on Dissolving Schicksal and Anti-Entropy Organizations for Reorganization... Guidelines after guidelines, covering myriad topics across countless domains. Even this brief glance sufficed to demonstrate the emperor's boundless interests and his unyielding, authoritative demeanor.
"Gulp!"
Rita swallowed hard, truly comprehending the immense weight represented by the title 'Emperor.'
"Sip—Do you have any questions?"
"No, none at all! Rita will do her utmost!"
"Then let's begin."
Zeke set down his teacup as floating windows reappeared around him.
Throughout the night, Zeke continuously refined various macro-plans into actionable documents, handing them one after another to Rita for further refinement and supplementation.
Despairingly, Rita watched as her diligent efforts only led to an ever-growing pile of tasks. Her mind raced at an unprecedented speed, yet it felt like pouring water onto a raging fire—an insignificant effort. Despite this, she had no choice but to meticulously understand and improve each document, crucial for shaping civilization's future.
The night swiftly passed by.
At dawn, as the sun rose outside the window, casting its orange-red glow, Zeke moved his stiff neck—cracking sounds echoed—and then picked up the tea Icarus had poured for him.
"Sip—"
One cup of tea, a pile of documents, a single night, and a miraculous feat—that was the emperor's life, plain, unadorned, yet monotonous.
As Zeke watched the ripples on the tea surface, he contemplated for the nth time pushing both Welt and Otto into the Earth's molten core for a hot bath. Yet also for the nth time, reason prevailed—he couldn't do it now; these two still served their purpose. At least, not until after Finality has been defeated.
The thought of Finality inadvertently led Zeke to consider preparations for meeting with that young lady face-to-face.
"Click!"
Just then, holding hands, Kiana and Durandal pushed open the door from Zeke's bedroom.
Dressed in simple nightgowns, they emerged laughing and chatting, only to spot Zeke sipping tea bathed in the morning light. More importantly, there was Rita, scantily clad, slumped on the sofa like her soul had departed—her disheveled hair, long legs encased in sheer black stockings, the vacant expression, and hollow eyes—all unmistakably hinted at an unspeakable aftermath unfolding before them.
"Ze!Ke!"
Boom! Kiana's disheveled silver hair floated without any breeze as her white armor and red longsword materialized, sparks scattering through the air.
"How dare you cheat on me behind my back! Prepare to die! Aaaargh!"
"Kiana..."
"Bam!"
Durandal had barely raised her hand to stop Kiana when she witnessed the Silver-Haired Queen crash face-first next to Zeke's sofa chair with a massive lump forming on her head. Her face was half-buried in the floor, yet she still managed to extend a trembling index finger forward—Durandal couldn't comprehend this scene but felt utterly stunned.
"Kiana..." Durandal murmured blankly, albeit belatedly expressing her intent to save her friend. Had she spoken just a tad quicker, she might have prevented the mishap.
"Good morning."
Zeke, holding his teacup, tilted his head towards Kiana lying on the ground.
With a thud, Kiana lifted her face from the shattered floor, pouting as she dryly responded:
"Good morning!"
Simultaneously, the Herrscher's Herrscher Dress and Flame Blade vanished as Kiana stood up, dusting off her slightly grimy face and nightgown. With one hand on her hip, she pointed at Rita with the other, exasperatedly asking,
"What happened to her? Why is she dressed like that? And what's with that worn-out expression? What did you two do last night?"
"We completed some tasks; perhaps it was too taxing for her? As for her attire... I believe it's purely personal preference, not something worth my concern."
"Oh, well then, no worries. I'm going to wash up now."
"Sure."
Zeke nodded nonchalantly, seeming somewhat preoccupied with his thoughts.
Kiana turned back, took Durandal's hand again, and continued smiling towards the restroom as if nothing had occurred.
As they walked, Durandal couldn't help but glance down at the dent in the floor where Kiana had face-planted earlier. Then, observing Zeke and Kiana acting oblivious, her delicate eyebrows involuntarily twitched.
"Kiana, your relationship with Sir Zeke... is truly fascinating."
"Huh? What do you mean? Oh, you also think it's outrageous for a married man like him to spend an entire night alone with Rita, who has long legs, a slender waist, and ample assets, hiding it from me? But trust Zeke's integrity; if he says nothing inappropriate happened, then it didn't. On this aspect, Zeke remains quite reliable!"
"No, I meant... interacting with Sir Zeke seems to require an astonishingly high level of resilience."
"Really? I've gotten used to it. Zeke isn't that brutal, generally speaking. He doesn't resort to violence casually against others, except for me, of course! Eh heh!" Kiana rubbed the slowly diminishing lump at the back of her head, blinked, placed her hands on her hips, and displayed an inexplicable sense of pride.
"..."
Wait, is she considering this a positive thing? At that moment, Durandal had countless remarks ready to burst out but ultimately found herself speechless.
Kiana and Durandal entered the bathroom, while Rita finally managed to pull her wandering spirit back into her weary body. She gazed softly at Zeke and asked with a tone of utter resignation:
"Why did Lady Durandal emerge from Sir Zeke's bedroom?"
"Ask her yourself; I'm not explaining it."
"...Understood," Rita replied, feeling utterly drained.
At least Lady Durandal's chastity appeared intact—for now, Rita's life should be safe as well. With no energy left to uncover hidden truths, she let it rest.