This proposal completely caught Lys off guard. She masked her surprise by lifting her wine glass, trying to buy herself some thinking time...
"Cough! Cough, cough!"
Lys stared at the bottle on the table. This wasn't meant for direct consumption—it was a cocktail base ingredient, extremely high-proof vodka once specially supplied to Russian Muggle battlefields.
"Cough, cough, stop drinking that. Let me get you another bottle—cough—this isn't meant to be drunk like this." Lys was choking so hard her face turned bright red, completely losing her composure.
Hadn't this well-traveled heir from a prestigious family ever been to a bar? Even if he hadn't, the moment this stuff hit your tongue it would go numb—couldn't he taste it? And he'd already downed most of the bottle straight?!
But he used magic to pull the bottle back. "I've been training my alcohol tolerance with potion assistance since I was sixteen, for a long time..." She could see he wanted to say something more but held back.
"Future development is important. I'll give you time to consider. For outstanding people, the Karkaroff family doesn't hesitate to show our sincerity."
Lys silently activated Occlumency, then under his probing, chatted with him about Britain's recent turmoil.
When mentioning that the Malfoy family would continue cooperating with Germany, Lys could see Menelquede was somewhat surprised.
Taking advantage of his attention on his wine glass, Lys tried to extract a bottle of mead from the liquor cabinet—she really couldn't handle this vodka straight.
But the cabinet door didn't budge under Lys's magic; another restless magical force pressed against the cabinet door.
Lys slowly took a breath and picked up the vodka before her—no ice, no sweet liqueur mixer, not even chilled—and took a sip.
"Cough! Cough, cough!" Lys's face was about to scrunch up completely when she caught a hint of... disappointment in his eyes.
She closed her eyes to steady her breathing, maintained Occlumency before reopening them. "This drinking method doesn't suit me." Then she left the glass untouched and continued the Malfoy topic.
"I originally thought he'd be constrained by those short-sighted vampires for a while, but it seems his capabilities exceed my expectations." Menelquede took another document from his subordinate wizard.
"I was planning to give a partnership to Shafiq, but from what you're saying, perhaps giving it to Malfoy would also be a good choice."
Lys glanced at the document, seeing circles within circles of text that gave her a headache. She could barely read normal printed German, let alone this pure handwritten script.
But now wasn't appropriate for Lys to slowly read through documents. She considered carefully.
"Partnerships ultimately depend on final benefits. Shafiq is at their peak right now, flush with success. While relatively stable, I think the Karkaroff family doesn't lack such steady income enough to lower themselves waiting for Shafiq's supplies—that seems unnecessary."
Lys closed the document, pretending she'd already read it. "Gaining benefits while earning a friendship in times of need—perhaps that better suits the Karkaroff family's style, doesn't it?"
"Friendship! Hahaha." Hearing this word, he suddenly laughed, the flush on his face spreading considerably. His neatly slicked-back curls fell forward with his leaning motion, adding some human warmth to his already superior looks.
Lys remained unmoved, her Occlumency unwavering.
When the laughter stopped, "Profit is profit, cooperation is cooperation," Menelquede's blue eyes suddenly fixed on Lys's face, staring into those ash-gray eyes like dying embers. "Friendship?"
"Yes, friendship. Beyond inescapable interests and self-preservation—friendship." Lys met his gaze but quickly looked away, placing the document in her hands onto the stack beside her.
"Is there anything else, Mr. Karkaroff?" Lys patted the documents beside her. "I'll be quite busy next, and I'd like to hurry home first."
"Beyond inescapable interests and self-preservation? That counts as friendship?" His question carried barely perceptible mockery.
To this, Lys's lips curved slightly. "Why wouldn't it?"
"We treasure every hand extended when we need it. I'll consider the Durmstrang faculty proposal. Now then... don't let me keep you."
Menelquede was pouring himself the last drops from the bottle when he heard the dismissal and froze. Apart from his uncle, he'd never heard anyone so directly ask him to leave.
But when Lys handed him another bottle of vodka, saying: "That bottle is better suited as cocktail base—drinking it straight is far too harsh. Try this one, you should like it," his slight sense of offense faded away.
The wizard behind him took the bottle from Lys and stepped back two paces, handing Menelquede his wool overcoat.
Smoothing back his fallen curls, the standing man looked at Stalys before him, whose appearance no longer held its former refinement, his smile's meaning unclear.
"I still want to say—even looking like this now, suits and trousers suit you better." Putting on his coat, Menelquede turned his head for one final comment: "Now I suppose you have time to carefully read through that document I gave you, don't you?"
Lys maintained her smile until he left with his subordinates and Disapparated from the house's vicinity, then turned to pick up that handwritten document.
She couldn't help covering her face—this was data on what that Ministry official who'd left in disgrace without proper handover had done, not the Shafiq and Malfoy matters she'd pretentiously mentioned...
Behind her covered face, Lys's expression was completely lucid. She didn't believe a word of what Menelquede had said—"For outstanding people, the Karkaroff family doesn't hesitate to show our sincerity."
She believed more in his counter-question: "Profit is profit, cooperation is cooperation—friendship?"
After all, wasn't the Dark Lord outstanding? What was their sincerity toward him?
Though she didn't know what benefits they'd gained from it, only those forced to swallow the bitter consequences of the Dark Lord's deliberately indulged madness knew them most clearly.
Lys didn't know when she'd realized that before having absolute strength and no weaknesses, those sacrificed and forced would always be people like her—useful yet not useful enough.
Not being outstanding would certainly mean death; being outstanding didn't guarantee survival either.
After all, what had the Dark Lord done to his former friend Abraxas? Without ruthless hearts and cruel hands, how could one reach the pinnacle? They were all madmen, and in the end, Lys wished them all to have nothing...
The remaining vodka in her glass emanated harsh alcoholic fumes. Lifting the glass and swirling it, watching the liquid cling to the glass walls, she tilted her head back and drank it all.
The instantly numbed mouth and tongue, the throat that contracted sharply from the burn, and the searing chest and stomach gave Lys's facial pain an excellent excuse.
Waving her wand to float Gabon from the sofa to her side, Lys returned to her forest home.
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