Season 3 chapter 71
The Luxury Underwear Interruption
Just as Kniya was getting into his rhythm, a sharp, buzzing vibration echoed from his pocket.
"Kniya," Malesh deadpanned, noticing the flashing screen. "Someone is calling you. Based on the frequency, it's either a tactical update or a telemarketer from hell."
"Yeah, yeah, let me answer the damn thing," Kniya grumbled, stepping slightly away from the table. "Hello? This better be about the military blockade."
"Sir! My favorite G-string enthusiast!" a cheerful, overly-energetic voice boomed from the other end. "You sound stressed! Do you need the comfort of the 'Aura-Silk 9000: Ultra-Luxury Tactical Briefs'? They are limited edition, sweat-wicking, and specifically designed for billionaires who are currently overthrowing governments!"
Kniya's face went flat. "Oh, for fuck's sake. It's you. The underwear seller."
"You remembered me! I'm touched!" the Gleb member laughed. "This is our... what, third talk? One in person, a few on the encrypted line. How is my previous work performing? Is the 'Executive Support' pouch holding up, or are you ready for the upgrade?"
"Just don't talk about the damn underwear!" Kniya hissed, glancing back at the table where Filoska was already judging him. "Tell me the important thing. Why are you calling me on a secure line during a family reunion?"
The Council's Collapse
The voice on the other end suddenly lost its playful edge, though the humor remained dark.
"Alright, fine. You might want to sit down for this, because it's a masterpiece. We have successfully dismantled the entire Presidential Council."
Kniya froze. "What?"
"You heard me," the Gleb member replied casually. "The Council was infested with Royal Family lapdogs and bribed ministers who were bleeding the country dry. It was messy, it was loud, and honestly, we used a lot of ammunition. We assassinated the traitors, 'retired' the supporters, and literally just... got new ones. The ones who wouldn't sign their names to a religious massacre."
Kniya's jaw dropped. He signaled for Malesh and Filoska to come closer, putting the phone on speaker. "Are you kidding me? You replaced the entire council?"
Malesh stared at the phone in shock. "In the first place, you told us you'd find a way to blackmail the President. Now you're telling us you've replaced his entire cabinet? How do you even manage that logistics-wise?"
"The logistics were basically 'shoot first, ask questions never,'" the operative replied. "I didn't have a clean method of blackmailing everyone at once, so I figured, why not just replace the whole damn room? It was easier."
The End of an Era
The silence at the table was deafening as the weight of the news settled in.
"Listen carefully," the voice continued. "It's true. We have confiscated almost all executive powers from the President. As of ten minutes ago, those powers belong to the new Council. We've restricted all army movements and blocked the budget for the religious purges. The civil war has officially come to an end from our side. I can't replace the President, as he is democratically elected, even if he's a crook, is a nightmare to move—but he's a figurehead now. A puppet with no strings."
Malesh let out a long, slow breath. "What the fuck? We just spent the last hour making the people believe our motive, and you literally made the reality match the narrative."
"You did the proof, the military escort, the children... all of it," Kniya muttered, still processing the scale of the coup. "Thank you for the assistance, I guess."
"Welcome for that, Kniya," the Gleb operative replied, his voice returning to a cheeky grin. "But that isn't the matter of importance right now. The matter of importance is the underwear. The 'Aura-Silk 9000' is waiting for you, sir. Don't let your crotch suffer while the country heals."
Kniya aggressively hung up the phone, staring blankly at the dinner table.
"He's joking," Kniya whispered, "but the Council is actually dead. The war... the war just changed."
The Legislative Climax
Kniya stood by the dining table, his face twisted in a mix of confusion and irritation. "Hey, listen, you telemarketing freak—what the hell is a 'G-string'? Is that some kind of new military-grade guitar wire? Because I don't have time for music lessons."
The Gleb operative let out a loud, snorting laugh over the phone. "Oh, you innocent billionaire. A G-string is... let's just say it's a very minimalist approach to structural support. It's for the bold. It's for the leaders. It's for people who don't want tan lines on their ego."
"I don't care about the structural integrity of your laundry!" Kniya barked, leaning in as Malesh and Filoska tilted their heads to listen. "Tell me the details. You said you took over the council. How? What's the legal play?"
"Ah, the boring stuff," the operative sighed. "Well, we just pushed through a very special emergency mandate. Personally, I call it the 'Fuck the President 34 Act.' It has a certain... poetic justice to it, don't you think?"
Kniya stared blankly at the wall. "You did not name an official piece of legislation that."
"Okay, okay, you caught me," the voice chuckled. "The boring, official title is the Presidential Power Confiscation Act. But in my heart, it will always be about the President's incompetence. Either way, it's done. The council now holds the keys to the kingdom. The military is already receiving withdrawal orders. The civil war is officially over from the government's side. The guns are being packed away."
The Land Foundation
The table went silent. Even Malesh stopped chewing his bread, his dark eyes sharpening.
"Now, here is the important part of the plan," the operative continued, his voice turning serious. "The government no longer has the authority to hold the confiscated religious lands. But if we just release it, the bureaucrats will chew it up. You need to buy that land, Kniya. Every inch of those destroyed cities and religious sites. If you own the deeds, the government can't touch them again. You can return the land to the people and rebuild their temples under your own flag."
"Buy the land?" Kniya muttered, calculating the numbers in his head. "If I do that under Kavilson Steel or Malesh Energy, it looks like a corporate land grab. The public will hate us."
"Exactly. That's why you don't use your companies," the operative advised. "Create a foundation. A charity front. The 'DI Restoration Foundation' or whatever cheesy name you want. Tomorrow, you come to the Council. I'll have one of my guys—a G36 guard—meet you with the paperwork. You bring the money, you buy the land from the state, and you become the most beloved landlords in history."
The Masked Identity
"Wait," Kniya said as he heard the line begin to crackle. "Before you hang up... we just pulled off the biggest coup in the history of the Republic. Can't you just tell me your name? We're basically brothers-in-arms at this point."
"I'm not going to give you my real name, sir," the voice replied smoothly. "But for the sake of the paperwork, you can call me Operative 37."
Kniya scoffed. "Thirty-seven? That's it? Listen, 37, I'm going to find out who you are. I'm going to leak your confidential name to every tabloid in the capital."
There was a brief pause, and then the operative's voice dropped into a playful, dangerous tone. "Sir, if you leak my name, I am going to leak the security footage of you trying on those 'Limited Edition' ultra-luxury underwears in your dressing room. Now... you decide which is more important: my name, or your dignity."
Kniya's face went bright red. "You... you wouldn't."
"Decide yourself, boss. See you tomorrow," the operative said, and the line went dead.
The Final Announcement
Kniya slammed the phone onto the table and turned to the group. He looked at the Priestess, Salesh, and Filoska, his eyes wide with a manic, triumphant energy.
"It's over," Kniya whispered, then louder, "It's actually fucking over! The Council is ours. The military is pulling back. Filoska, Salesh, Priestess—get back on that stage. Right now! Announce it to everyone! Tell them the war is finished! Tell them their land is coming back!"
As the three of them scrambled toward the stage to deliver the news that would change the lives of thousands, Kniya and Malesh headed toward the steam-sedan.
The Priestess caught Kniya's arm for a split second before he left. "How?" she asked one last time, her voice trembling with relief. "How did it all change so fast?"
Kniya paused at the car door, a cynical, toothy grin spreading across his face. "You want the truth, Priestess? You asked how we managed all of this. The secret isn't some holy miracle or a grand ideology."
Malesh opened the driver's side door, his expression as deadpan as ever. "It's the bribe, Priestess," Malesh added flatly. "Never underestimate the power of enough money to make a saint turn into a sinner and a soldier turn into a pacifist. Bribes make the world go 'round."
Kniya let out a loud, booming laugh—"Ha ha ha ha!"—as he jumped into the passenger seat. The engine roared to life, and the heavy sedan tore out of the alleyway, leaving a cloud of dust behind.