"You're a doctor as well?"
Theresa's lips parted slightly, her gaze upon Felix now filled with fresh curiosity. She had assumed he was simply a sharp-minded entrepreneur with political instincts. To find that he excelled in research too…
What couldn't this man do?
Hearing her call him Doctor, Felix's mouth twitched. The title… sounded odd. No one had ever called him that, despite his stack of doctoral degrees. In Columbia's academic circles, he was addressed by name like everyone else—after all, in that country, doctors were as common as pebbles on the street. Throw a brick and you'd probably hit two.
The only place he'd ever been addressed differently was at Rhine Lab, where his researchers would call him "Professor" or "Mentor." Never Doctor.
Now he noticed the Doctor's gaze upon him—sharper, more probing than before. The hooded figure spread the report open in gloved hands.
"As the author of this paper, could you explain your findings to me? The balance between Originium's influence and Terra's ecosystems fascinates me."
Theresa found this moment unusual. In her impression, the Doctor's curiosity extended broadly—toward Terra's phenomena, its peoples, its mysteries. But rarely toward an individual. Aside from Cautus Amiya, whom the Doctor had personally brought back from the wastelands, this was the first time she had seen them take such a keen, personal interest in someone.
On Babel's ship, only Dr. Kal'tsit could consistently keep pace with the Doctor's thought process and research. But Kal'tsit had her own work—her twenty-four hours were never enough. That didn't mean she cared less for the Doctor; indeed, no one in Babel cared more.
"What exactly do you want to know?" Felix asked.
"Everything."
The Doctor's gloved hands rested on the desk, their hood tilted slightly downward.
"I am curious about all things on Terra. Ecology is no exception. So please, Mr. Felix… tell me everything."
Felix nodded. He wasn't particularly concerned. This NPC, whom players rarely had the chance to interact with, stirred neither affection nor aversion in him. In his past life at Rhodes Island Pharmaceuticals, the Doctor had been the nominal leader. Sharing knowledge that everyone already knew hardly seemed an issue.
After all, Felix had earned a doctorate in ecology. And afterward, he had studied for a long time under Muelsyse. He had learned about her people's struggles, about the dilemmas they faced, and about the importance of the "Horizon Ark" project. At Rhine Lab, her greenhouse had always been one of his favorite places to visit.
By the time Kal'tsit concluded her meeting with the medical staff, half an hour had passed. She glanced at the time and knew she was late. Quickly tidying the papers on her desk, she made her way to the conference room.
When she opened the door, the scene before her made her wonder if she'd walked into the wrong room.
The conference chamber had been transformed into something resembling a university classroom. A blackboard stood at the front. A Sankta youth with a halo above his head was sketching diagrams and explaining theories.
The hooded Doctor sat diligently in the front row, notebook open, scribbling down notes like an exemplary student. Beside them, Theresa rested her chin in her hands, watching the lecturer with a gentle smile that never wavered.
Kal'tsit did not interrupt the "class." Perhaps she understood why the Doctor was here, listening intently. Quietly, she took a seat beside Theresa. The princess, noticing her arrival, greeted her with a warm smile, and Kal'tsit's lips curved ever so slightly in return.
From the lectern, Felix noticed. He sneered inwardly. Well, well, Kal'tsit. In my last life you wore that scowling face for everyone—me included. Now look at you. Did your facial muscles finally heal?
Kal'tsit, of course, had no idea of Felix's thoughts. She listened for a while, piecing together what he was explaining. Though she had some familiarity with ecology and Originium, she had never delved as deeply into the subject as Felix clearly had.
Felix carried with him not only the weight of Rhine Lab's reputation but also Muelsyse's expectations—and by extension, the hopes of her entire Elf people. Their relationship had long since gone beyond that of simple colleagues; what he had promised her, he was bound to fulfill.
The lecture stretched on for two hours. Aside from a sip of water midway through, Felix never once stopped. What truly gratified "Professor Felix" was that none of the three "students" before him fidgeted, lost focus, or dozed off.
At Trimount University of Technology, his own classes were typically one-on-one. He had occasionally sat in on other professors' lectures, though—and those classes were never this quiet. Students there were like those in any university: some attentive, others distracted, some diligently taking notes while others simply idled away.
But these three? Their concentration was absolute. It moved Felix more than he cared to admit.
By the time the session concluded, the sun had already set, and the twin moons hung high in the sky. Felix finally waved a hand, bringing the ecology lecture to a close. In truth, after all these years at Rhine Lab, and with the experience he had accumulated through exchanges with the various department heads, he knew that with a bit more networking, securing a professorship at any major university would be no challenge at all.
…Wait. What was it he had originally come into this meeting room to do?
"That was wonderful."
Theresa glanced at the Doctor's notebook, filled margin to margin with notes. Turning to Felix, her eyes shone with warmth and delight. "Even though it was only a few hours, I feel as if I've rediscovered Terra. It was truly enlightening."
"Truthfully," Felix replied, "Terra's current ecological trajectory is inseparable from Originium. The relationship is reciprocal—there are benefits as well as dangers. Originium Arts and related technologies have become indispensable. The sole, devastating drawback is its infection of Terrans."
He sighed softly. "My mentor once told me that if Originium did not infect terrans, Terra's technological development could be at least twenty years ahead of where it is today. But because of its effects on the body, because of the existence of the Infected, research has been forced to move cautiously, always shackled by fear of what might follow."
"…Yes," Theresa murmured. "We know how daunting a problem Oripathy is to cure. And yet, that's precisely why it must be a challenge we conquer in the future."
She spoke without the slightest hesitation, her expression alight with confidence and resolve.
Felix noticed the Doctor's gaze fixed on him, and he gave a small nod in acknowledgment before shifting his eyes to Kal'tsit.
Kal'tsit had already recovered from her surprise. "Mr. Felix, what exactly are you doing here?"
"Because," Theresa answered with a soft smile, taking Kal'tsit's hand, "Mr. Felix has agreed to cooperate with us. From today onward, Tomorrow's Development will be a strategic partner of Babel, Kal'tsit."
Kal'tsit stiffened slightly, then looked toward Felix. He raised an eyebrow. "Didn't I tell you we'd meet again, Dr. Kal'tsit?"
"Strategic partner… Understood." Her voice was calm, though her gaze lingered on him. "On that matter, Mr. Felix, I'll need to discuss the projects of cooperation with you in detail."
"No problem."
"Mm… but since it's already so late," Theresa said, clapping her hands lightly, "why don't we have dinner first?" She looked at Felix, fingers closing warmly around his. "I'd like to show you our cafeteria, and introduce you to some of Babel's operators."
---
The Babel cafeteria—or rather, the cafeteria that would one day belong to Rhodes Island—was a place Felix knew well. In the future, during Rhodes Island's era, chefs from every corner of Terra had been recruited, ensuring that no matter where an operator hailed from, they could taste the cuisine of their homeland without ever leaving the ship.
Tomorrow's Development had adopted a similar model. Its cafeteria was practically a carbon copy of Rhodes Island's, staffed with master chefs from across Terra.
But in Babel's time, things were different. Kazdel's civil war was raging, mercenaries were barely scraping by from one meal to the next, and no sane Terran would willingly step into Kazdel—coming here was little better than a death sentence.
The only exceptions were the doctors and medics who had thrown in their lot with Babel, abandoning their homelands to dedicate themselves—and their passion—to this land. Beyond them, there were only Babel's operators.
Resources, of course, were scarce. To expect a wide variety of international dishes here was simply unrealistic.
"Your Highness... it's the princess."
"Doctor Kal'tsit and the Doctor as well."
"…Wait, is that… a Sankta?"
When the Sarkaz mercenaries caught sight of Felix, their eyes flashed with hostility. Yet, after a moment's hesitation, the dangerous gleam faded. After all, the cafeteria was not only filled with Sarkaz but with operators of many different races.
The Sankta were hardly the only race to have once gone to war against the Sarkaz.
And judging from the looks being exchanged, it was clear this Sankta was here as the princess's guest. To keep glaring at him would be crossing a line—Babel's mercenaries, whatever else they were, still had their pride and dignity.
Felix's eyes swept across the room. He spotted Ace and the companions gathered around him. Their expressions remained composed, so Felix withdrew his gaze for now.
The food in Babel was hardly luxurious. In wartime, how could it be? Still, the portions were generous, and Felix himself wasn't a picky eater. Back when he was just a player, eating had been about one thing: filling the satiety bar. Only much later did the Rhodes Island cafeteria spoil him into developing more delicate tastes.
Most of the mercenaries' gazes weren't on him at all—they were fixed on Theresa, alight with respect and devotion. She was long accustomed to such looks. Her voice was low as she began explaining Babel's current structure to Felix.
Cooperation meant little unless they defined the terms. Felix had no intention of inserting himself into the ideological battle between Theresa and her brother. To interfere as a third party would be unjustifiable both in reason and in principle.
And then, there was the matter of who he was—his race, his identity. Theresa might trust him, but what about her mercenaries?
For now, the first and clearest avenue of cooperation was material exchange.
As mentioned earlier, the civil war between Babel and the Military Commission had brought commerce in and around Kazdel to a halt. No merchant in their right mind would risk entering a warzone with wagonloads of goods, only to be robbed—or killed.
The sole exception was Ulšulah's city, now the so-called Frontier Zone. It had become the safest corner of Kazdel, its Undead administrators honest in speech and fair in trade. Merchants trusted them not to rob or cheat, and so were eager to do business there.
Thus, the first step was to reopen trade routes. Much like trade caravans in the Civilization series, the Frontier Zone would deliver goods to Babel, and Babel would pay in kind.
It wasn't that Babel lacked money. Rather, they had no safe way to spend it. Felix was offering them exactly that: a channel.
After dinner, the four returned to the meeting room. Kal'tsit tried to impose a note of formality, but one look at Theresa sitting beside Felix, her expression soft and warm, left her feeling faintly powerless.
Only Her Highness could so easily bridge the gap with a Sankta.
The second topic Felix raised was mercenary employment.
Tomorrow's Development now counted over two million players among its ranks, but the Sarkaz population itself numbered in the hundreds of millions. To pit his players directly against Sarkaz mercenaries would be foolish—and Felix would never allow it.
Instead, he suggested this: exploration missions, map-making assignments, and other such tasks could be contracted through Tomorrow's Development. His organization would then post those requests to its adventurers, who would complete them as commissions.
In effect, Tomorrow's Development would act as a middleman.
As for whether players might choose to defect to Babel? Felix wasn't overly concerned. Such cases were inevitable—Terra had no shortage of factions, and players had options. But with over two million players joining Tomorrow's Development in the early stages of version 2.0, Felix already considered himself fortunate.
At present, Babel offered players very little of tangible value. It was, after all, an idealist's organization—not the pragmatic, benefit-driven machine Tomorrow's Development had become.
Felix had no fear of losing his player base. Even if a handful left, it would remain an anomaly. As long as he maintained strong central control and steady benefits, the majority would remain loyal.
The meeting continued for about an hour. Half the agenda was covered; the rest would be discussed in detail tomorrow. Kal'tsit and the Doctor eventually excused themselves, leaving only Theresa and Felix.
Rising with a gentle smile, Theresa once again extended her hands. She seemed to favor this gesture, as though she took comfort in it.
"The Doctor needs regular checkups," she said softly. "Come, Mr. Felix. Allow me to show you to your room."