In the afternoon, Lolita sat in the boardroom beside Axel, her posture regal in a black leather chair. Around her, government officials shifted uneasily.
"Prisons bleed money," she declared. "Solution: death penalty. Problem solved—no more free room and board on the taxpayer's dime."
"Lolita!" Maxwell blurted. "That's barbaric!"
She snapped, "I'm the ruler here. The laws are non-negotiable."
From her black leather satchel at her pink heels, she pulled a glossy portrait of herself—closed-lip smile, vibrant pink blush.
"Every household must display my portrait," she said. "First offence: warning. Second offence: arrest. Deface it—imprisonment."
"Most citizens can't afford frames," Maxwell protested.
"I've already ordered prints," Lolita replied, beaming like she'd solved poverty with a discount voucher. "To cover costs, we'll eliminate tax deduction on hydro, water, and electricity. Except for government officials."
Sweat formed under the collar of Sterling's white long-sleeve shirt. "Winter's coming. People will die—"
"Policy isn't a suggestion box," Lolita said firmly.
The council dispersed for a one-hour break. In the courtyard, Maxwell leaned close to Artemis.
"The new laws that Lolita is enforcing are absurd." Maxwell scowled.
Artemis shrugged. "We can't argue back without risking prison."
Maxwell's voice cracked. "She wants citizens executed for spitting on her statue. She's lost it—"
"What're you talking about?"
They turned to look at Axel's scowled face.
Maxwell snapped, "It's called none of your concern."
"You better not be talking shit about Lolita. She's a good ruler." Axel's eyes narrowed on Maxwell.
"Is there any update on Ethan's murder case?" Artemis asked.
Axel pulled out a vape pen from the pocket of his black blazer and took a puff. "The case is cold."
"What?" Maxwell's voice cracked. "The police can't just give up."
"They have no evidence to find the murderer," Axel said with a shrug. "And they're busy with solving other murders."
Artemis said, "More government funding should go towards policing."
Axel shook his head. "Wouldn't matter. They still wouldn't solve it."
"How do you know that?" Maxwell replied coldly.
Before Axel could answer, a servant hurried over. "Lolita requests your return to the boardroom."
Maxwell crushed out the last ember of his cigarette with his black Oxford shoe and followed the others inside. If only Lolita cared half as much about policing as she did about plastering her face across the country.