Three days passed before Duke Kashchey, having "lain bedridden" all that time, was finally able to rise unsteadily and walk again.
As for why it was Koshelna's vessel that had been injured, yet Kashchey's body was the one confined to a sickbed—
Naturally, it was because this vessel of Kashchey's was too well known, far better suited to stir the public's sympathy.
Meanwhile, Koshelna's body was on the verge of collapse, at a crucial stage of recovery, and could not be disturbed.
Kashchey put on the appearance of weakness, laboriously lifting a newspaper with trembling hands.
Mm… everything proceeds according to plan.
The Emperor has already reclaimed most of the power, the rest carved up between that loyalist Speaker Vitte and the various interest groups.
New aristocracy against the old, the young against the elders… the conflicts never cease.
For now, Ursus affairs can wait.
---
"Dusk, couldn't you at least paint us some LMD?"
Zhu Jiuyin wandered aimlessly through the streets of Lungmen, a scroll strapped to his back and a peachwood sword at his waist. Boredom dripped from his every step.
"What about your own money? Didn't you have plenty?" came a woman's voice from within the scroll.
"Please. Have you forgotten my role? I am a wandering fortune-teller, free-spirited and unbound. How could I possibly lug around piles of vulgar paper?"
"…You're insane."
"And you, lazy shut-in, have no right to talk."
"You know me, revealing myself in Lungmen would only make Yan uneasy."
"Yes, yes. Of course. The great Dusk, who hides inside her painted skin not because of laziness or crippling social anxiety, but purely out of consideration for others! Truly, you're too kind-hearted!"
"…Shut up!"
As Zhu Jiuyin and the hermit Dusk bickered under their breath, a white-haired, violet-eyed figure with crimson dragon horns lurked behind them, suspiciously trailing their steps.
Strange… why do I sense my sister's aura coming from that scroll he's carrying?
---
At the very top of Lungmen's tallest tower, Wei Yenwu sat in silence across from his wife, Lady Fumizuki.
"…Heh. I honestly don't know what I should do."
Wei exhaled smoke from his pipe, rare fatigue etching lines into his face.
A letter had arrived from the Eternal Duke of Ursus: in a short while, Kashchey himself would be coming to visit.
But this was not what troubled Wei.
Though the Duke had not stated his purpose, the old saying was apt: an open blade is easy to guard against; a hidden arrow is not.
Lungmen could never perfectly defend against infiltration by the Black Snakes. The only option was to accept Kashchey's request to visit.
What troubled Wei was another line in that letter: Kashchey had written that Reunion had been expelled from Ursus.
And most of their number were now heading toward Lungmen.
"…What is he playing at?"
Wei could not fathom the man's mind.
According to his own intelligence, Kashchey's position in Ursus remained unshaken, but his authority had been hemmed in, confined to his own domain.
To approach Wei now, openly and without subtlety, was bound to invite the Emperor's suspicion.
Just as Wei's own jealous younger brother once had.
No doubt, with Kashchey's impending high-profile arrival, Yan would immediately dispatch the Censorate to watch over him.
Lady Fumizuki gazed at her husband with quiet sorrow.
She understood too well the weight he bore, and the anguish he carried.
He had killed his own brother. Forced his sister into another marriage. Driven his sister, indirectly, to her death. Powerless, he had watched their children taken away.
He had safeguarded Lungmen. But at what cost?
"…Yenwu, do you think Little Talulah will ever return?"
"…I don't know. I can't even bring myself to face her. But… if she dares to raise her hand against Lungmen, then I will not hesitate."
Wei stared out the window.
Black Snake… what game are you playing?
---
What nonsense is this? The Emperor entrusts me with negotiations with Lungmen?
…Ah. Of course. This is his way of showing he still 'trusts' me.
Troublesome. These short-lived creatures are always troublesome. Fearing me, yet desperate to prove they do not fear me. Willing, still, to assign me weighty duties.
As if I am not already more versed in imperial arts than you are. I held you in my arms when you were still a child.
Still… this may trouble Wei Yenwu. Undermine his control of Lungmen. For years I have tried to plant my eyes and ears there—how could one not covet such a thriving economic hub?
Alas, results have been meager. But now… now I have an opening.
No doubt his jealous younger brother will instantly imagine a dozen conspiracies. After all, was it not such paranoia that led to Edward's death?
---
"…Talulah, why are we heading to Lungmen?"
Frostnova's puzzled voice broke the silence.
"Because Lungmen is the closest nomadic city to us—and it belongs to Yan. Once we cross into their territory, Ursus' army will no longer be able to pursue us."
Talulah's reply was calm, though tinged with resignation.
She did not want to abandon the stronghold she had poured so much into, but she had no choice.
The Ursus military had swept through Chernobog like a flood, washing everything away. If she and her comrades did not withdraw early, the casualties would have been unbearable.
And besides—there was another reason she was bound for Lungmen.
She intended to strike a deal with Wei Yenwu, to bring Reunion out of the shadows and into the light.
As for her bargaining chip…
Well—would offering to take in the Infected citizens Wei wanted to be rid of count?
That suggestion had come from one of her cadres, once the Police Chief of Lungmen, now an Infected—codename "Nine."
As for whether the information was reliable…
Talulah had always preferred to trust those she chose to rely on.
---
"Doctor Kal'tsit, why has Lungmen hired Rhodes Island this time?"
"They value our expertise in handling Infected affairs. Lungmen wants us to provide guidance on managing the Infected population in their slums… and, if necessary, direct support through action."
Kal'tsit spoke to Amiya, though her eyes drifted now and then toward the hooded figure standing silently in the shadows.
"…What do you think, Doctor?" she asked.
"..."
The Doctor remained unmoving, offering no response.
Kal'tsit herself did not know how to face the Doctor anymore.
After witnessing the near-perfect command at Chernobog, she even found herself questioning whether the Doctor's amnesia was real.
But the past was gone.
Her Highness was dead.
Babel was no longer Babel—it was Rhodes Island now.
To dwell too long on old scars would mean never moving forward.
And besides, Kal'tsit carried a heavy guilt toward the Doctor.
What had driven that once-gentle scholar into the figure of a cold, unyielding commander?
"…How is your health?" Kal'tsit finally asked.
"…Holding up."
From beneath the hood came the Doctor's voice, flat, without the faintest ripple.