Gale opened his eyes and found himself inside the room from his dreams. That room had changed and turned into a vast structure composed of multiple dreams.
In each dream, different historical figures appeared. Some he recognized immediately, others he did not. But each of them was willing to speak with him, share their ideals, and teach him.
"This is the place…" Without knowing where these people were, Gale always had an intuition and wandered aimlessly until he encountered that person.
This time, he arrived at an open field, where a man sat on a wooden chair, gazing at the vast landscape.
"Have you lost your way, boy?" the man asked, noticing Gale's presence with slight interest.
"And you are…?" Gale did not know who the man was, but with just a glance, he could tell he was someone brilliant.
"You should introduce yourself first. That is usually what is done when someone wants to meet another person," the man corrected Gale with a gentle smile.
Surprised, Gale quickly approached and said, "I am Gale Hawthorne. I have no title, nor am I someone remarkable, so getting to know me…"
"Isn't that normal? You are only a child. It is not common for children to achieve great things when they are still learning. It is nothing to be ashamed of." The man smiled and said, "My name is Napoleon, and I believe that in a place like this, titles no longer matter."
Like any other historical reflection that appeared in Gale's dreams, Napoleon was aware that he was dead.
But unlike many others, he knew that there was a purpose in appearing here, and when Gale arrived, he understood that this was the reason why he was here.
Gale's appearance stood out for his maturity. He was definitely not a curious or naive child; there was a strong trace of coldness in his gaze, and upon his shoulders rested an oppressive weight that slowly suffocated him.
"Napoleon Bonaparte…" Gale whispered the name with deep astonishment.
"It seems you know me, but that does not matter. Tell me your story." Napoleon pointed to the chair beside him, inviting Gale to sit.
Gale then summarized his story, mainly telling him how his dreams connected him with remarkable figures and what he was about to do in Paradis.
Napoleon did not interrupt him at any moment. He remained silent, his fingers interlaced over his knee, observing the horizon as if every word Gale spoke was being placed upon that invisible landscape only he could see.
When Gale finished, the air seemed to grow heavier.
The man exhaled slowly.
"So, you desire a coup d'état…" Napoleon murmured, as if savoring the idea on his tongue.
Gale did not respond immediately, but his gaze did not waver.
"Yes."
Napoleon slightly turned his face toward him, and for the first time, his expression lost some of its warmth. "That is not a decision a child makes… Nor an ordinary man."
There was a brief pause.
"Tell me, Gale Hawthorne… do you want power because you believe you can change things… or because you fear what will happen if you do not?"
The question fell like a blade.
Gale frowned, but did not look away. "If I do nothing, hundreds of thousands will die."
"That does not answer my question."
Silence stretched on.
The wind blew across the open field, carrying with it a sense of unease.
"…Both." Gale finally admitted.
Napoleon smiled faintly, satisfied. "Good. Honesty is the first requirement for ruling… even if you only rule within your own conscience."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Listen carefully. A coup d'état is not a battle… it is a play."
Gale blinked, confused.
"Power," Napoleon continued, "is not taken by force alone. It is taken through perception. People must believe that change is inevitable… or even necessary."
He pointed at the ground with the tip of his shoe.
"When I took power during the Coup of 18 Brumaire, I did not do so as a conqueror… but as a solution."
His eyes locked onto Gale.
"You must become the answer to a problem that everyone already feels, but no one knows how to solve."
Gale clenched his fists slightly. "Then… am I right to manipulate them?"
Napoleon let out a soft laugh. "Manipulation is a word used by the weak when they do not understand strategy."
He leaned back in the chair. "Call it leadership."
The field seemed to expand with his words.
"First: identify the true pillars of power. Not titles… people. Who moves the troops? Who controls information? Who holds the loyalty of the people?"
Gale immediately thought of the Garrison… of Hannes… of the refugees.
Napoleon noticed the change in his expression.
"Good. You are already doing it."
He raised a finger.
"Second: never strike when the enemy is alert. You must make them lower their guard… or better yet, make them look in the wrong direction."
His gaze hardened.
"And third…"
There was a longer pause this time.
"When you take power, you must act with brutal speed. Indecision after a coup is what destroys leaders. Your enemies will not give you time to consolidate."
Gale felt a chill run down his spine.
"And what if I fail?"
Napoleon looked at him intently.
"Then you will die… and someone else will take your place."
There was no cruelty in his tone. Only certainty.
"But if you are right… if you can truly prevent that massacre…"
He slowly rose from the chair.
"Then not acting would be the real crime."
Silence fell between them once more.
Gale lowered his gaze for a moment, processing every word.
"Remember this," Napoleon added, turning his back to him as he looked toward the horizon.
"A leader is not the one who desires power…"
He slightly turned his head.
"But the one who is willing to bear the consequences of using it."
The wind blew stronger.
And for a moment, Gale felt that the weight on his shoulders did not disappear… but instead took shape.