The Student Council conference room was a place of order and hushed power. Dark wooden panels, a long oval table, chairs with a straight back. The cold light of the neon lights fell on the tense faces of the representatives of the factions. There was the leader of the Falcons, a neutral but influential faction; the representative of the Spiders, specializing in intelligence and the black market in school; the new spokesperson for the White Tigers, a nervous boy named Tae-Sik who tried to hide his fear behind a bravado. And Lee Min-Ji, chairing the session with cold impartiality.
Kim-Do - or rather, the Do/Kai dyad - sat at the table. A square that had been designated for him, in front of Min-Ji. His entry had stopped the whispers. All eyes were on him, charged with fear, hatred, curiosity, or calculation.
Do felt Kai's presence stiffen, like a mental muscle preparing for the effort. Don't look at them all. Fixed Min-Ji. She is the key. The others are noise, thought Kai, his inner voice cutting like a blade.
Do obeys. He met Min-Ji's eyes, looking not for a challenge, but for an opportunity. She opened the session.
"The purpose of this meeting is to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Park Jin-Ho's defeat created an imbalance. We're here to build a new one. Rules. Borders."
The leader of the Falcons, a tall, thin boy named Seo-Jun, spoke first. The law of the strongest. Kim-Do is the strongest. Why change?"
It was a trap. A provocation disguised as a naive question.
He tests your intentions, Kai quickly analyzed. He wants to know if you're going to take advantage of your victory to swallow everything. Respond like a leader, not a predator.
"The law of the strongest leads to permanent war," Do replied, his voice bearing in the silence of the room. He could feel Kai's words coming to him, but he formulated them with his own conviction. Even the strongest eventually fell, worn out. I'm not here to be an exhausted tyrant. I'm here to offer stability."
Min-Ji tilted his head slightly, a glimmer of interest in his eyes. Tae-Sik, the White Tiger, burst out: "Stability? You crushed Jin-Ho! Do you want us to bow nicely now?"
Anger rose in C, an instinctive reaction. But before he could answer, Kai intervened, colder. Let him speak. He's panicked. The more he speaks, the more he reveals the weakness of the Tigers.
Do merely supported Tae-Sik's furious look, without saying anything. His silence, more than a replica, became oppressive. Tae-Sik finally lowered his eyes, clearing his throat.
The Spiders representative, a young woman with piercing eyes named Ji-Woo, spoke in a soft voice. What are your conditions, Kim-Do? What do you want in exchange for not... crushing us?"
This was the heart of the negotiations. Do felt Kai mobilize his memories, his knowledge of territories, rackets, points of friction.
Ask for the management of training grounds in the east and the control of sales at the canteen, Kai said. They are sources of income and influence, but not vital enough to push for immediate war. In return, leave them the western sports fields and the supply market. Proposes a rotation system for neutral zones.
Do set out the terms, with a clarity and precision that surprised the assembly. It was not the outsize demand of a greedy victor, but the calculated proposal of a statesman. Even Ji-Woo looked impressed.
The discussions flared up, but Min-Ji channeled them with remarkable mastery. Do/Kai negotiated point by point, yielding on details to win over the essentials. Sometimes it was Do's cunning, his intuition of hidden motives, that prevailed. Other times, it was Kai's infallible memory of debts and old conflicts that gave them the advantage.
For nearly two hours, the dyad was a single two-headed negotiator, invisible and relentless. Mental fatigue was beginning to weigh on Do. Managing the flow of Kai's thoughts while talking and analyzing reactions was a brain marathon.
As the meeting drew to a close, a precarious agreement on the table, Kang Seong made his silent entrance. He did not sit down. He stood near the door, his notebook in his hand, and his gaze, behind his glasses, landed on Kim-Do. It was not the gaze of the neutral observer, but that of the hunter who finally spotted a trail.
He knows, Kai thought, a sharp alert running through their shared mind.
What does he know? asked Do, panicked.
Not everything. But he feels the difference. Your way of negotiating... it's a mixture of your old awkwardness and my old experience. For him, it's an anomaly. A fact to study.
Min-Ji followed Kang Seong's gaze, then turned it back to Kim-Do. His forehead folded slightly. Distrust, dissipated for a moment, returned.
"We seem to have a framework," she said, ending the discussions. "We will formalize this in writing. Any violation will be considered a declaration of war against the agreed balance, and the Council will intervene."
The other representatives stood up, exchanging complicated glances. They were suspicious, not entirely satisfied, but relieved that immediate war was avoided. They left the room, leaving Kim-Do alone with Min-Ji and Kang Seong, who had still not moved.
"A remarkable performance, Kim-Do," said Min-Ji, putting his records away. "Almost too remarkable. It looks like you've aged ten years in strategy in a few days."
Do felt Kai's need to take control, to respond with the former leader's coldness. He resisted. It was up to him to deal with that. He was the face.
"The battle against Jin-Ho made me see things differently," he repeated, but the chorus began to sound false, even to his ears.
"Really?" Kang Seong spoke for the first time, his soft and dangerous voice. "Because according to my notes, your way of assessing territorial friction points corresponds exactly to conflicts dating back three years, which only the Kim-Do of the time could have known with such precision. Conflicts that have never been documented."
A freezing cold ran through Do's spine. Kai, in his mind, remained marble. He searched. He talked to people. It's a danger.
Min-Ji looked at Kang Seong, then Kim-Do. "What does that mean, Kang Seong?"
"It means," said the observer, stepping forward, "that either Kim-Do has suddenly regained a photographic memory of minor events, or... he has a very knowledgeable adviser. An advisor who knows his story better than he does."
The trap was closing. They couldn't guess the truth - cohabitation - but they knew something was wrong.
Do inspired deeply. The fear was there, but it was channeled by Kai's cold determination. He had to play it all.
"Everyone has secrets, Kang Seong," he said, rising in turn. He stood upright, projecting an assurance that he didn't fully feel." And everyone has sources. You spend your time observing. I spend mine building. Don't confuse your puzzles with my reality. The agreement is on the table. That's what matters."
He supported Min-Ji's gaze. "The Council wants stability. I'll give it to you. How I do it is my business. Unless the Council prefers chaos?"
It was a poker move. Putting Min-Ji before his own principles: order before curiosity.
Min-Ji stared at him for a long time, the conflict visible in his eyes. Then she lowered her eyelids. "The agreement holds. For now. But watch your secrets, Kim-Do. In this school, they tend to flee."
With that, she turned her heels and went out. Kang Seong remained for a moment, with an enigmatic smile on his lips, before disappearing in his turn.
Alone in the conference room, Do let out a long, trembling breath. Sweat flooded his back.
It was good, Kai thought, and there was a real note of approval in his mental tone. You held on. But Kang Seong is a problem. He won't give up.
What do we do? asked Do, exhausted.
"We do what leaders do," said Kai, her mental presence taking on a strategic, almost sinister hue. We identify the threat. We evaluate its weaknesses. And we're getting ready. Because next time, he won't just ask questions. He will act.
The truce was sealed. External stability, precarious, was acquired. But a new, more discreet and dangerous war had just begun. A war of information, of espionage, of shadow against shadow. And in the center, a divided man had to protect his most intimate secret, while, somewhere in the city, Lyra and the regulators were preparing the final assault on a god of machines. The path to freedom was narrower and more dangerous.