The sun didn't ask for permission.
It barged in like it had keys to the place—light spilling across polished floors, climbing walls, settling into corners like it was checking for dust. No mercy, no tact. Just heat with confidence.
The room shrank under it.
Air thickened.
Tempers… not quite rising, but definitely stretching.
"Miss Alvie, can't you do something about the heat?" Mr Kamon sighed, already halfway out of formality. His tie had given up. One sleeve rolled like a quiet rebellion.
Victoria snapped to attention.
You could hear the opportunity.
Miss Alvie didn't even open her eyes.
"Ugh… Victoria, you do it."
Delegation. Ruthless. Efficient.
Victoria lit up like she'd just been handed a stage.
"Alright."
Mr David's eyes opened just enough to matter. A glance—sharp, quiet, measuring—and then stillness again.
I flexed my fingers.
Tempting.
Too tempting.
Qi would solve this in a heartbeat—but it would also announce itself like a flare in the dark. And here? Unknown systems. Unknown reactions. That's how people get "investigated."
No thanks.
"Try not to freeze the room," Mr David added.
Calm voice. Loaded meaning.
Mr Kamon straightened, watching now.
Victoria closed her eyes.
Nothing happened.
One second.
Two.
Then—
A breeze slipped into existence.
Not from a window.
Not from a source.
It just… was.
Soft at first, brushing past us like it was learning the room. Then it settled into rhythm—cool air threading through fabric, slipping along skin, breaking the heat apart piece by piece.
Not cold.
Precise.
The kind of control that says, I could do more. I just don't need to.
The room exhaled.
"Interesting," Mr Kamon said, adjusting his collar again—this time because he could, not because he had to.
"Close the windows," Victoria added, cracking one eye open, smiling like she knew she nailed it.
"Really interesting," Miss Alvie said, finally sitting up. "Good job, Little Bear."
That landed.
Victoria sat taller. Pride blooming, quiet but undeniable.
"No snow or ice," Mr David noted.
Of course he clocked that.
Of course he would.
I said nothing.
Just watched.
She's getting sharper.
That wasn't practice.
That was instinct maturing.
Then—
"Sir, the Prime Minister has arrived."
The door opened fast enough to cut through the moment.
Miss Shimizu stepped in, pausing just slightly as the altered air brushed against her. Not obvious—but enough to notice.
"Alright," Mr Kamon said, already reassembling himself into diplomacy. "Thank you."
And just like that—
Movement.
Clothes straightened.
Postures rebuilt.
Masks reattached.
Or… attempted.
Victoria struggled with her boots like they had personal beef with her. Hopping once. Twice. Almost falling.
Miss Alvie? Same story. Just with more dignity pretending to exist.
Mr David and I didn't help.
We just watched.
And somewhere between us—
A shared thought.
This is the future?
I glanced at him.
No reaction.
Which was absolutely a reaction.
"Come on," Mr Kamon said.
We followed.
The corridor outside felt like a different world—cool, controlled, sterile in a way that suggested nothing spontaneous was allowed to survive here.
We stopped outside the meeting room.
Only Mr Kamon entered.
The door closed.
And we—
Waited.
The lobby stretched wide, polished, quiet in that expensive way where even sound seems filtered.
Then you notice—
People.
Not many.
But enough.
On one side, the Draken entourage.
You didn't need introductions.
Power has posture. And they had it.
And there—
Victoria leaned in, whispering like subtlety was a myth.
"That's her. From before."
Miss Alvie stepped forward slightly. "Good afternoon, Lady Seliregina."
Seliregina responded with a faint smile. "Lady Alvie. A pleasant surprise."
Her voice was silk over steel.
Her eyes moved across us once.
Measured.
Dismissed.
Her gown flowed like she had walked out of a ballroom into a battlefield and decided both were equally beneath her concern.
No one behind her spoke.
They didn't need to.
Across from them—
Another group.
Miss Ayami.
An older man beside her bowed slightly to Mr David.
Returned.
Minimal.
Efficient.
The air tightened.
Three factions.
One hallway.
No one breathing wrong.
Then—
Movement.
Albrecht von Morgenstahl and Elise Krämer approached.
"Ah," Albrecht said. "Miss Victoria. Miss Heiwa. Lady Seliregina."
He bowed.
Elise mirrored him with surgical precision.
Seliregina gave the smallest nod.
Respect.
Measured like currency.
"Why is he here?" Victoria whispered.
Mr David didn't look at her.
"He was a political prisoner. They want him back. And likely a withdrawal."
Simple explanation.
Heavy implications.
We moved to the wall.
Decoration.
Witnesses to decisions we weren't allowed to shape.
Time stretched.
Long enough to forget how long.
Victoria started lowering into a squat.
"We're not doing anything… can we sit?"
No answer.
Of course not.
The sun left quietly.
No applause.
No acknowledgment.
Then—
The doors opened.
And the real players stepped out.
The Therian Prime Minister passed us with a glance that said nothing and meant everything.
Gone.
Then—
The Draken Prime Minister.
He stepped out like gravity adjusted to him.
Pale.
Ice-blue eyes.
And the moment I saw him—
My body reacted.
Qi surged.
Instinct.
Danger.
Wrong move.
Mr David's hand caught mine instantly.
Firm.
Final.
No words.
Just no.
The moment held.
Then released.
The man didn't even look at us.
Didn't need to.
Everyone else moved around him like orbiting was the only option.
"We have buried more lives than you have lived," Mr Kamon said quietly as he followed.
Not loud.
But it cut deep enough to echo.
They disappeared.
Victoria exhaled like she'd been underwater.
"How did it go?"
"As bothersome as expected."
We returned to the room.
Sat.
The air felt… used.
Like something had already been spent here.
"Therian will withdraw cultivators and artillery," Mr Kamon said. "Lord Morgenstahl remains with us."
He sighed.
Then—
The door opened again.
Albrecht and Elise entered.
"I will be in your care."
Neutral tone.
Controlled.
Miss Alvie made a small sound.
Unreadable.
"The Concord will deploy observers to the gate," Mr Kamon continued.
"So infantry leaves when they arrive," Mr David summarized.
A nod.
That's how it works.
Layered exits. Conditional peace. Nobody trusting anyone enough to go first.
"What about the blockade?" I asked.
Because outside—people were already feeling it.
"With Morgenstahl here, it will be lifted," Mr Kamon said.
A pause.
"For food and medicine."
Of course.
Relief.
But rationed.
"They argued distances. Armament rights. Territory limits," he added, pulling out a cigarette. "Endless."
"Sharq pressured the signature," Mr David said.
"Maybe," Mr Kamon replied. "But he signed."
That was what mattered.
He left.
Smoke trailing intention.
"We should go," Mr David said.
Then, almost as an afterthought—
"Little Bear is asleep."
I turned.
Victoria had folded in on herself, gone completely offline.
Mid-politics.
Mid-chaos.
Mid-history.
Out.
"…yeah," I said.
We left.
She was lighter than expected.
Or maybe adrenaline lies about weight.
The hotel came fast.
Too fast.
I placed her down carefully.
She didn't move.
Didn't stir.
Just… gone to rest like nothing in the world could reach her right now.
I dropped into the chair.
And finally—
Exhaled.
Outside, the moon hovered behind clouds like it wasn't sure it wanted to be seen.
"I should take a bath," I thought.
A good thought.
A responsible thought.
A thought that died immediately.
Sleep doesn't negotiate.
And it collected.