The bell chimed sharply.
Harold Jin didn't hesitate.
His chair detached from the floor, rising with a soft mechanical whir, and hovered forward in a straight, controlled line to the central platform.
It stopped with exact precision.
Harold stepped off, shoes tapping lightly against the platform, posture upright but casual—he carried the air of someone who wanted facts to speak louder than appearances.
He bowed in greeting. Then he began, his voice calm and measured.
"My name is Harold Jin. I am a Senior Economist specializing in public finance and resource management for post-crisis societies. Over the past twenty years, I have advised multiple governments on sustainable allocation of emergency resources and the oversight of complex societal programs. I am here to examine the economic implications of the Male Protection Act."
He leaned slightly forward, hands gripping the edge of the platform.
"The Male Protection Act is expensive. Extremely expensive. Maintaining this system costs far more than what is justified for a post-emergency society."
On the Piao side, Camille's fingers curled slightly against her lap.
Angel noticed immediately and rested her hand lightly over Camille's wrist.
A quiet warning.Not now.
Harold continued, voice steady and precise.
"The issue is not whether the system works. The issue is whether the system is worth what it costs."
"Supervision, medical priority, training programs, rehabilitation facilities, transportation of genetic material across borders, payments to donors—this is not a minor expense. We are spending resources that should be directed to sustainable public infrastructure, to growth and innovation."
Harold's voice carried across the room, controlled and analytical.
"You call this protection, but it is a resource-intensive system in a population that has already stabilized. Survival-level costs are being applied to a society no longer in crisis. That is not efficiency. That is misallocation."
At that, Camille shifted forward slightly in her seat.
Angel's hand tightened around her wrist.
At the same time, Dr. Lucian Harrow placed his hand lightly over Camille's other hand, resting against the armrest.
Not forceful.Just enough.
A silent, coordinated restraint.
Harold stepped in a small, deliberate circle, letting the words settle.
"And the scale of this spending is private, yes—but private funding does not eliminate economic consequences. The system ties global trade, research priorities, and innovation timelines to one family's operations. That is risk. That is dependency. That is unsustainable."
Camille did not move again, but her jaw had tightened.
Harold paused, eyes sweeping the room.
"If the Male Protection Act was necessary during the emergency, it is not now. The emergency has passed. Continuing these expenditures is not prudence. It is a choice—and it is one that affects more than just one family."
He straightened slightly.
"An emergency system is designed to end. If it does not end, then it was never an emergency system. It was a permanent structure."
Camille's fingers tightened once more.
Angel glanced at her.
Camille turned her head slightly and mouthed,I want him.
Angel held her gaze for a brief second—then gave a small, almost invisible nod and released her wrist.
Understanding. Permission.
Camille immediately used her now-free hand to lightly tap Lucian's hand.
He withdrew at once.
Across the room, Harold stepped back onto his hover chair.
It lifted smoothly, carrying him back to his original seat.
Camille watched him the entire way back.
She did not move toward the bell yet.
She waited.
The moment his chair settled and the hum faded—
She reached for the bell.