We... Will Control Yorktown!

Karen gently stroked the thick dossier in his hands. Its destructive power was already equivalent to a forbidden curse; in fact, even a forbidden curse would be hard-pressed to achieve its effects. The Yorktown Region already occupied a special status within the Church of Order's hierarchy, and expecting a single forbidden curse to strike down most of the bishops in this region was clearly unrealistic. Even for the successor to the Fallen God, that assassin Valoti, successfully carrying out a hit at the Head Bishop's estate had only been possible due to laxity on the Church of Order's side combined with him operating at the absolute peak of his abilities. Why had Valoti chosen Karen, an influential young man, as his second target after that successful assassination? Because he knew very well that the defensive security around the other bishops and senior figures had surely been activated by then. It was just that... the six bishops the Head Bishop had brought along to the auditorium last time happened to be precisely the people on this list, which struck Karen as a bit too coincidental. Although this could be interpreted as the Head Bishop's deliberate arrangement and selection, still... Karen spoke up, "Lord Head Bishop, Bishop, may I ask a question from my personal perspective?" Wolflen raised a hand. "Of course. Ask away." "Were those six bishops—no, those five bishops—genuinely corrupt from the start, or did they only become corrupt because they happened to go that day?" Hearing this, Wolflen chuckled. "What you want to ask is whether everyone is a black crow who merely prefers to drape themselves in red clerical robes day-to-day—and when the need arises, one simply closes their eyes, reaches out, and tears off the robes to reveal that they're all black beneath? As for whether they're red or black, or whether that disguise should be torn away, it's purely a matter of necessity?" "Lord Head Bishop, that wasn't what I meant..." "No, you should mean it. Meaning it is the right attitude. In life, we ought to be a little naive, but when dealing with concrete affairs and practical work, naivety is unacceptable. "However, I can't answer this question for you. Because of my position and identity, you wouldn't truly believe my answer anyway. "How about this: ask our Bishop Bern. After all, he painstakingly gathered all this evidence of criminal conduct. Do you know how difficult it is to collect solid, irrefutable evidence without alerting the targets?" Bishop Bern replied, "That is also why, despite my dissatisfaction with you, I respect you and obey your arrangements. Without your tacit permission and support, I could never have accomplished this." Wolflen immediately waved his hand. "Come now, don't say that. It was entirely the work of a fellow lurking in the shadows like you. It has nothing to do with me. Otherwise, if word got out that I, the Head Bishop, was helping you behind the scenes to gather criminal evidence against my own subordinate bishops, it would sound terrible." "In truth, your reputation is already like that," Bishop Bern said with a faint smile. "If there were a ranking of the reputations of past Head Bishops of the Yorktown Region, yours would undoubtedly be the worst." As the head of a local interest group, he was now taking the lead in cooperating with external forces to strike down and dismantle his own side. In secular terms, it was equivalent to a king leading rebels to revolt against his own crown—an act of smashing his own rice bowl. Bishop Bern looked at Karen. "I have already acknowledged you, so, in turn, you should acknowledge me." "You... still haven't given a definite answer." "In this world, is there a fishpond so clear that it contains not the slightest impurity?" Karen replied, "None exists." "Precisely. Whether a fishpond is truly clean depends on whether the one managing it cleans it out regularly." Karen nodded, indicating he understood. Bishop Bern spread his hand, his gaze resting on his palm. "However, you needn't be too disheartened. As I've said, you and I are very much alike. Do you remember?" "I remember." "This world lacks two kinds of people least of all. "One kind only knows how to trudge forward with lowered head, choosing to sink together with the mire even when knee-deep in mud, never thinking to look up and see if stars are twinkling above. He thinks he is constantly advancing, but in reality, he is merely walking in endless circles within the mud. "The other kind sees only the stars. He is obsessed with discerning each star's characteristics, debating their size, brightness, and underlying symbolism. Yet he stands rooted in the mire, completely motionless." Bishop Bern pointed at Karen, then at himself. "We both look up at the stars, but we do not lose ourselves in their unique beauty or the moving tales behind them. We use them to determine our course, while our footsteps never once halt. "You asked me whether everyone is a black crow. I can tell you: no. The bishops and assistant bishops of the region, including the department heads who aren't bishops, are mostly clean. "If things were so exaggerated that everyone was black, our Church of Order would have collapsed long ago. "Yet are those five arrested bishops all of them? Is the dossier I investigated—the one I just handed to you—the whole of it? "No, not all of it. Of course it couldn't be. "But... the lion's share is in there." "Yes, I understand." *Clap, clap!* Wolflen clapped his hands and sighed with emotion. "Tell me, are we holding a book club discussion here?" Bishop Bern smiled. "To encounter a young person worthy of conversation is a fortunate, even joyous thing. It naturally brings an urge to share one's experience and insights with him." Karen immediately stood and bowed to Bishop Bern. "Thank you for your guidance." Bishop Bern stood as well and returned the courtesy. Wolflen picked up his teacup, took a sip, and said, "This is why succession often surpasses bloodlines. Even one's biological descendants will, in all probability, only resemble you in appearance. But if a young person carries on the path you believe in, it truly feels like living once more—or at least, granting your life another possibility." Bishop Bern nodded. "Indeed. Compared to Karen, your grandson is truly painful to watch." Wolflen: "..." Bishop Bern looked at the Head Bishop, whose face was flushed with irritation, and asked in confusion, "I had thought you were well aware of this." "Whether I am aware of it is quite different from you badmouthing my grandson to my face. Understand?" "I don't, nor do I care to." Bishop Bern straightened his clerical robe. "Alright, we can leave." "It's still early." Wolflen raised a hand. "Leon went to prepare dinner. Eat before you go." "Fine. After all, the next time I dine with you might be at your funeral." Bishop Bern pointed forward. "Holding a tray and eating in front of your memorial portrait." "If I could, I'd really love to make my portrait wink at you." "That's easy enough. I'll deliberately splash a drop of soup onto the eye of your portrait. Close your eyes and imagine the scene." "No need to close my eyes. I'm already feeling sick." "Heh. By the way, Karen is handling your funeral, isn't he?" "Yes." Bishop Bern looked at Karen. "An easy job. In all likelihood, hardly anyone will show up." "Maybe they'll all pass away before me, heh." "Dinner is ready," Leon knocked on the door and asked. "Grandfather, shall we eat now?" "Mm," Wolflen responded. "Right now." Leon wheeled in a small dining cart. Karen's gaze fell upon it, where three bowls sat... well, three bowls of something Karen couldn't even identify. Bishop Bern scooped up a meatball with his spoon, popped it into his mouth, and nodded. "Tastes good. Very savory." Wolflen slurped a piece of dough sheet into his mouth and smiled. "Not as bad as I imagined." Karen looked down at the soup of dough scraps and meatballs in his bowl and asked tentatively, "Wontons?" "Yes, Director. But for some reason, the wontons I wrapped fell apart into this after hitting the pot." Karen took a sip of the broth and said, entirely against his conscience, "Nicely done." Wolflen stirred with his spoon, making the mess in his bowl more evenly mixed, while asking Karen, "There's one thing I kept forgetting to ask. How did you guess it?" "It wasn't that hard to guess." Karen set down his spoon and replied seriously, "Mainly, I had faith in you, knowing you wouldn't just give up like this. If you had put up even a half-hearted struggle, I wouldn't have been so certain." "Well, so that was it. In truth, many things are just like this bowl of medley soup. Going by your conversation with Leon, its proper form should be wrapped intact in dough skins, right?" "Yes." "Internal church struggles are the same way. First, you must have a clear objective, and after that, all your means and measures must revolve around preserving the integrity of that objective. "That day, when that fellow Neo stepped onto the stage and flipped the table, it was indeed a decent way to break the deadlock; young people also prefer and yearn for such dramatic scenes. "However, it's just like peeling the skin away from the filling. Once it's boiling in the pot, trying to wrap it back together is almost impossible. "If you can't smash the bowl entirely, and merely rupture the skin, then even if it turns into a mushy sludge, it remains in the bowl—it can't get out. "Just like what you experienced over the past fortnight: although you told me you did nothing and only read and rested, "in truth, you knew very well in your heart that even if you wanted to do something, it would be hard to achieve any real effect. "Flipping the table feels satisfying, of course, giving the impression that all the pent-up frustration has been vented. But as long as your opponents aren't stupid, you still end up having to bend down and pick up the scattered pens and papers yourself afterward. "The correct course of action should have been to follow your superior's directions, pretend ignorance, or make him see that you know yet have no choice but to comply, following his desired procedures first. "Then, to mitigate the fallout of this affair, you would come to me, asking me—for Leon's sake, and for the sake of your having killed the assassin for me—to hand over more names and details, allowing you to use them to negotiate with the Regional Administrative Office. "With the evidence in hand, you could engage in political tug-of-war with those fellows, and they wouldn't dare make a fuss. As for me, I could help you stabilize the conflict. In the end, Yeder would likely end up like Dolph, written off as a cut-loss. "In that case, negative repercussions would be minimized, and you could even preserve your position as the public face of the Whip of Order in this region." "Lord Head Bishop..." "Hear me out. I know that in your heart, you're unwilling to compromise this way. You might think what I'm saying is overly pedantic and clashes with your convictions. Talk of 'preserving yourself to plan for the future' has probably worn calluses on your ears. "Yet at times, do not let your convictions turn into pressure that restrains you in reverse, limiting your room to maneuver. "Didn't Bern know what kind of rotten mess the Norton family was? Yet didn't he still choose to defend Vicolai on behalf of the Regional Administrative Office? "In all things, he who laughs last laughs best. "Besides, this doesn't conflict with your convictions. You wouldn't be compromising to gain personal benefit; it's merely taking a step back to lay the groundwork for an eventual burst of accumulated power. "Just like these... wontons, was it? "Since boiling them makes them fall apart, you could fry them in olive oil. Different methods, but fundamentally derived from the same food." "But Lord Head Bishop, I believe I should have my own faith and principles." "If you choose not to follow your faith, you feel guilt and anger at yourself. That is proper, but it is only the first stage: you have learned to respect your heart, obey your faith, and draw from it the courage to confront hardships and make painful choices. "However, one's perspective on things—even the simplest of statements—yields different interpretations as age and experience change. "Once you pass this stage, or once you delve deeper, you should grasp another truth: "As long as your faith is steadfast enough, your methods of struggle can be flexible and varied. "Charging into a suicidal assault while chanting long live faith is magnificent in death, of course. Yet bowing your head and curling your body to preserve the spark of faith, waiting for a grander bloom, is actually far more worthy of respect. "So long as your true heart is not lost." Karen bowed. "Thank you for your teachings." Bishop Bern said displeasedly, "You're corrupting the youth." Wolflen rolled his eyes at Bishop Bern and retorted, "I was just describing you." Bishop Bern: "..." Wolflen lifted the bowl before him to his lips, took a large gulp, swallowed, and chuckled. "Still, what can I say? What you did wasn't without effect. Only after stirring the skin and filling into a mess can we conveniently gulp it all down." With that, Wolflen tapped his spoon against the rim of the bowl. *Clink...* A crisp chime echoed out. Setting down the bowl, Wolflen wiped his mouth with a napkin, clasped his hands over his abdomen, and said to Bern and Karen: "The words have been spoken, the meal has been eaten, and the tea has been drunk. "How should I put it? It was all rather bland. "We chatted for so long, yet didn't really discuss much of use—it was nothing more than the two of you humoring this dying old man by keeping me company for a few extra words. "As for the food, my grandson made it a bit too bland, though truth be told, I can hardly taste anything anymore. The tea wasn't Falcon tea either; that ran out last week, and I didn't tell Leon to restock. "All in all, it was far too bland. I want something with a stronger kick to balance it out. "Furthermore, "when one grows old, what is feared most before departing? Loneliness and quiet. "Gentlemen, "I don't mind if few guests attend my funeral, because I already consider what is about to happen as my funeral. "I have only one requirement: "Make it loud. "My ears aren't working so well anymore. If the noise is too quiet, I'm afraid I won't hear it!" Bishop Bern and Karen bowed together to Wolflen. "Yes, Lord Head Bishop!" "Yes, Lord Head Bishop!" ... Walking out of the Head Bishop's home, Bern walked in front and Karen followed behind. Ahead on the road, a VIP car appeared. It was likely the same model as Neo's, with the difference being that one had drained personal savings to build a replica, while the other was reimbursed with public funds. However, Karen didn't look down on Neo's choice as cheap. That kind of joy was fundamentally built on how difficult it was to obtain under normal circumstances. If he were to be promoted to a high rank later and had it within easy reach, that particular joy would vanish. "I'm taking you somewhere." "Very well, my Lord." Karen and Bishop Bern got into the vehicle together, and the VIP car slipped quietly into motion, traveling under concealment. Roughly half an hour later, the car pulled up before an industrial building on the city outskirts. From the sign, it appeared to be a cement factory. There was a guard booth at the gate. After an inspection, they were waved through. But once the car drove inside, a chilling aura could be felt. Bishop Bern got out, and Karen followed. "Tomorrow, Dunk, in his capacity as Acting Head Bishop, will hold a formal, public consultation meeting with Regional Chief Harry. The five bishops in your Whip of Order detention center will be ordered released immediately, while Yeder and a bunch of small fry will be treated as sacrificial lambs. "At the same time, there will be another sacrificial offering: you, and that director who flipped the table for you. "Both of you will be discarded, and both of you will have your actions officially condemned. "Then, Dunk will represent the Regional Administrative Office in acknowledging the indispensable role the Whip of Order played in purifying the regional environment during this operation, while your Regional Chief will conduct a self-criticism regarding the errors in their work. "Both sides will tacitly reach a profound consensus, and the expansion of authority the Whip of Order secured from the previous Vicolai case will once again be recognized and preserved. "A happy outcome for all. I imagine that if I were among the higher-ups, I would be very pleased to see such a result." "Yes, you are quite right." "What we must do is wait until they reach their public agreement, issue a declaration to the entire church, and 'rescue' the five bishops—and then, armed with the evidence, arrest those five bishops all over again. "That way, the Regional Administrative Office's Acting Head Bishop shielding five criminal bishops, and the Whip of Order's Regional Chief committing dereliction of duty by releasing five criminal bishops— "all of these actions will be nailed down beyond dispute. "After all, someone claiming you're sitting on cow dung is an entirely different concept from smearing that cow dung all over your face. "Our Acting Head Bishop and your Regional Chief will both have to pack their bags this time. Heh." Bishop Bern placed a hand on Karen's shoulder and said, "Look, what we're going to do tomorrow is such a hateful thing. Everyone is breathing a sigh of relief that this raging fire is finally dying down, yet the two of us will come carrying a massive barrel of gasoline and pour it straight onto the embers. Feel that?" "I do." "Your expression is still too reserved. I had thought you would spread your arms, close your eyes, let out a soft groan, and tell me in an emotional voice: 'This scene is truly beautiful.'" "You could demonstrate first and teach me, my Lord." "Heh, I can't bring myself to do it." "Neither can I." "Yet precisely because I know I cannot, I hoped even more to see it in you." "My Lord, so did I." "Karen, you and I are truly alike. Of course, I know you wouldn't like turning into someone like me." "That doesn't prevent me from admiring you after getting to know you." "Actually, some people genuinely do prefer living in the shadows. I am one of them. However, no one likes living in the shadows forever. Just as a fish gets tired of staying in the water and wants to poke its head out for a breath of air—have you ever experienced that feeling?" "You ask if I've... experienced it?" "Mm, haven't you?" Bishop Bern took a step forward, meeting Karen's gaze. "At times, haven't you ever thought of stepping out of the shadows and standing beneath the sunlight?" Karen did not flinch, nor did his gaze waver. Instead, a faint smile appeared on his face. "Sometimes when I dream, I feel that way." "Tsk." Bishop Bern stepped back two paces and clapped his hands together. "Tell me, how do you manage to be so unperturbed?" "Perhaps because my faith is pious, and thus I have nothing to fear." "The first half can be ignored," Bishop Bern nodded. "So it's because you don't fear the sunlight will scorch you to death." "My Lord, at a time like this, you..." "I'm not probing you, nor do I intend to investigate you. If I truly wanted to investigate, Inquisitor Pavaro's matter would have been the best entry point. I was merely curious. "Yet I have a rule: never investigate out of mere curiosity. That can easily lead one into a deep trench, the kind you can never climb out of." Karen momentarily didn't know how to respond. "Just treat it as my mad ravings before a momentous event. As for whether it is or isn't, you have the answer in your heart anyway. "Alright, let us head inside." Led by Bishop Bern, Karen followed him into the largest factory workshop. Inside, it was pitch-black, as though some special presence were swallowing all light. "Karen, do you have enough manpower?" "Which kind do you mean? If we're strictly speaking of sheer numbers, it is actually sufficient." When the investigation first began, in order to fabricate an illusion of vigorous support, Bernie had summoned Whip of Order squads not only from this region, but also from other neighboring city regions to help. Many squads had arrived, but they were only assigned to catch small fry without taking any major action. After half a month, everyone's morale had plummeted, and squads were gradually submitting reports requesting to return and resume their regular duties. This was just like a king centuries ago summoning lords to lead their men to war. If they continually lost battles or simply wasted time without seeing any real gains, the lords would gradually scatter, leading their troops back to their domains. "I'm asking if it's enough to get the job done. Tomorrow, when they move to release those people, you'll have to lead men inside to arrest those five bishops all over again." Karen hesitated a moment before answering, "It might not be enough." Having suffered two setbacks in a row, Bernie, Harry, and their circle would certainly never give him another chance to run wild. Moreover, they controlled the narrative and had stripped away his aura of public acclaim, a fact evident from the sharp drop in the number of reporters recently. In addition, Minister Bernie had told him to his face that this was the church, not the secular world; and even in the secular world, relying purely on external leverage to interfere deeply with internal power was predicated on the other party still wanting to keep up the appearance of a gentleman. Karen could well imagine that tomorrow, if he truly led a force to re-arrest the prisoners, he might arrive with plenty of people, but inside the Church Affairs Building, Minister Bernie would only need to step forward and shout once for half the men to abandon the effort on the spot. And by the time Regional Chief Harry showed up, probably only three squads would remain behind him: his original squad, Neo's Hound Squad, and Gendy's squad... and a question mark would even have to be placed over Gendy's squad. Yet it wasn't as if he was truly taking people to stage a prison break or launch a rebellion; it was more like rival gangs calling people out for a street brawl. After all, neither side wanted substantive internal conflict to break out, so with too few people, what could they possibly accomplish? "I will assign men to you," Bishop Bern said. Karen asked, "Would it be against regulations for me to use your men?" "Between different branches and departments, isn't occasional cooperation the most normal thing in the world? Besides, you currently hold the authority to issue official request letters. It's just that at your current rank, if you sent request letters to higher departments or made excessive demands for cooperation, they would most likely choose to ignore you. "I am different. I, for one, love helping others, heh." With that, Bishop Bern clapped his hands. *Clap, clap!* The workshop instantly lit up. Standing in what had been total darkness were rows upon rows of garrison knights, lined up in neat, motionless formations. Flanking both wings of the formation, falcons bowed their heads, and the falcon knights mounted upon them held their reins with both hands, remaining entirely still. Although this scale and spectacle could not compare to the true Knights of Order, the garrison knights were nonetheless the highest-grade armed force each region could mobilize. In name, this force was commanded by the region's Head Bishop, but Karen had known all along that Yorktown's garrison knights were held firmly in Bishop Bern's grasp. Bishop Bern presented a black medallion to Karen, and Karen reached out to take it. "I have already dispatched a contingent of garrison troops to slip secretly into Yorktown from their station. Tomorrow, when the need arises, use this medallion half an hour in advance to send a transmission. They will appear and obey your command." Karen rubbed the medallion with his fingertips and marveled, "Are we playing for such high stakes?" "Do you remember the Head Bishop's gesture of tapping the rim of the bowl with his spoon after finishing his meal?" "I remember." "He wanted to tell you that breaking the wonton skin is nothing—if you're going to do it, smash the bowl entirely! "It's just that the Head Bishop lacks the strength these days. He failed to break the bowl with his spoon back then, so he was probably too embarrassed to say those words to you. I'm saying them on his behalf. "Don't be afraid of blowing things up. Haven't you been doing precisely that for the past fortnight?" "If I order them to assault the Whip of Order headquarters building, will they obey?" "They will." "Alright then." "Did you think I would warn you against doing so? No, I'm actually somewhat looking forward to it, heh." "Regardless, taking garrison troops into the Whip of Order headquarters to seize people is truly... unprecedented, isn't it?" "I'm the one handing you the medallion and I'm not afraid, so what are you nervous about? "After this matter, I, who originally ranked near the tail end of the bishop hierarchy, have a strong chance of taking the Head Bishop's seat. "You will also be promoted. When the time comes, arrest more people and blow the matter up bigger. With evidence of criminal conduct against so many bishops, the higher-ups will have no choice but to hold their noses and grant you another promotion, if only to manage the situation and give an explanation to the whole church. "However, our route for further advancement will be cut off; we will be nailed down to the next tier of positions. "It can be said that unless some major upheaval occurs, the seats we are about to occupy will accompany us for the rest of our lives. "Even so, what is there to fear?" Bishop Bern opened his palm toward Karen and slowly clenched it into a fist. "We... will take control of the Yorktown Region!" ... "Do we still need to prepare breakfast today?" Vic asked. Alfred shook his head. "No need. Today's case press briefing has been canceled. We just received notice that a formal consultation meeting between the Regional Chief and the Acting Bishop will be held at noon today. All the reporters will be heading there." Vic scratched Ventura's head beside him, sighed, and said, "I'm not a pessimist, but with things reaching this stage, I can't suppress the pessimism welling up inside me." "I remain optimistic." "Oh, yes, Mr. Alfred, I believe that even if the guillotine blade were already fixed right above your head, you would still face the sun with a confident smile. "But I can't do that. You know how hard it was for me to escape the negative influence of my teacher and find a new ship, only for this ship to be sinking as well. Good heavens!" "So, do you regret it, Vic?" "I don't regret it. I'm doubting myself. I suspect I'm a jinx, and my teacher only went missing because I cursed him with my bad luck." "Trust me, Vic." Alfred placed a hand before Vic. "You are a truly fortunate person, enough to make most people in this world envious." "Comparing rock bottoms? Sure, out of respect for my status as the former High Priest's student, I believe the church won't let me starve on the streets. If I fall gravely ill or suffer pollution, when sent to the church hospital, they'd at least let me get treated on credit even if I lack coupons." "Heh." Alfred offered no further explanation. In his view, anyone bathed in the radiance of a great existence was undeniably fortunate, and those who were already bathed in it without knowing were more fortunate still. The fortunate Vic turned toward Philomena, who was sitting on the bench by the door, and asked, "Has the Director woken up yet?" Philomena replied, "He has. He went to see the Director of the Second Office." "What time is it?" Vic checked his watch. "Is our Director attending this meeting?" Alfred replied, "Of course he is." "Oh, right, that was a stupid question. If our Director doesn't attend, who else is going to shoulder the blame for our side?" Richard sighed and said, "My grandfather said this matter will be very serious. The higher-ups are already preparing to make a final ruling." "Hey, everyone, no matter what happens, we must learn to face it with optimism." Alfred raised his hand encouragingly. Vic countered, "Who else can smile right now besides you? If the Director is purged from the Whip of Order, our team will probably disband entirely." "Come, smile." Alfred pointed toward the other two. Muri produced a smile, and Ventura smiled as well. Philomena gave a slight smile too. ... "So, can you let me out?" Neo asked, gripping the bars. "Don't you think that without me, such a splendid spectacle would be a colossal regret?" Karen chuckled. "How do you manage to flatter yourself so quickly?" "I'm thinking of you. Imagine, when you stand there in high spirits, looking all around—how lonely would it be if there wasn't a single person who could exchange a knowing look with you?" "I can't let you out just yet. Besides, under no circumstances should you break out on your own. I don't want to disrupt their tempo." "Then why did you come down here specifically to tell me? To let me know something exciting is happening while barring me from participating or witnessing it? Karen, you are so cruel. You did this on purpose." "Yes, I did it on purpose." "Heh." "Alright, bear with it a little longer. If everything goes smoothly, you'll be able to come out today." "If things don't go smoothly, when you decide to assault the headquarters building, just give a shout, and I'll open the array formation for you from the inside." "Are you jinxing me?" "No, if worse comes to worst, we can just defect to the Light remnant organization. It wouldn't be bad to serve as minor elders there. Or, for safety's sake, we could go undercover in another orthodox church. That way, even when Rasma can leave Mink Street two years from now, finding you won't be easy." "Alright, I have to go to the meeting. Or more accurately, I have to go plead guilty." "Go on, go on. Next time something fun happens on my end, I won't tell you either." "Like that matter with Myra?" "Who is Myra? A newly debuted movie star?" Neo shrugged. "I don't really watch movies." "How is your book coming along?" "I've already picked out the title." "Half a month, and you've only come up with a title?" "Oh, heavens, you've never written a book, have you, Karen?" "I haven't." "Then have you heard this saying? Every literate person, at some point in their life, believes they are a writer." "And then?" "And then, for the vast majority of people, ninety-nine percent of their passion as a writer is exhausted the moment they finish picking the title." "Fine. What is the title?" "*My Struggle*." Karen: "..." "Well? How does that title feel?" "Pick another one." "Is it bad?" "It's utterly terrible." "Is it? I just felt that *If I Were Given a Day of Light* was a bit too blatant." ... The meeting was convened in the grand auditorium. On either side sat Regional Chief Harry and Acting Head Bishop Dunk, with their respective subordinates seated behind them. This scene resembled the diplomatic talks between two rival factions Karen had witnessed during his security assignments; in truth, it was practically the same. Below, numerous reporters were present, along with even more spectators, and the broadcast array had already been activated. Yet compared to Karen's previous experiences, the venue was far quieter, as everyone already knew what was about to transpire and tacitly treated it as merely going through the motions. When Karen idly cast his gaze downward, he could see quite a few female journalists giving him looks of pity. In their eyes, it was truly a shame that such a handsome young man, who frequently produced breaking news, was ending his political career like this. Below, Alfred opened the dossier his young master had handed him before stepping onto the stage, sharing it with Vic beside him. At first, neither found anything remarkable about it, but after reading a few pages, their eyes went wide. Alfred quickly adjusted his expression to look as if everything had been anticipated all along, curving his lips into an amused, "Heh, just as expected" smile. Vic, however, clenched his fists and began pounding his thighs repeatedly, his eyes reddening as he muttered under his breath: "Open fire! Open fire! Open fire!" "What happened?" Philomena asked Richard, who was sitting next to her. Richard observed Vic's reaction and replied, "I don't know, but it should be something good." On the stage, the meeting proceeded in an orderly fashion. Everything developed along the path Bishop Bern had laid out the day before. First, the leaders of both sides exchanged valuable opinions, setting the tone. Next, their respective subordinates began aligning specific details beneath that framework, everything progressing step by step. Acting Head Bishop Dunk acknowledged the importance and proactive dedication of the Whip of Order's work, offering constructive suggestions for ongoing cooperation in the future, while pointing out shortcomings in their procedures and tacitly conceding that Bishop Yeder indeed harbored issues. Bernie, Karen, and Neo were singled out for criticism by Regional Chief Harry. Bernie was let off lightly, while the focus remained squarely on Karen and Neo, along with a promise that the personnel responsible for these errors would be dealt with severely. Then, the five detained bishops would be released immediately, escorted out of the Whip of Order headquarters by Acting Head Bishop Dunk's delegation. What followed was purely a concluding exchange of mutual praise, revolving around the politically correct themes of win-win cooperation between both systems to forge a splendid future for the Church of Order. When the moderator announced the successful conclusion of the meeting, those on stage and in the audience seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. This storm had arrived with ferocious momentum, but had ultimately dissipated before inflicting truly catastrophic damage. Immediately afterward, nearly all the reporters swarmed toward the edge of the stage, raising their cameras to snap photos of Karen, while the broadcast arrays locked their visuals onto him where he sat. Perhaps everyone wanted to use such an image as the closing cover for this series of reports: a disheartened youth who had courted the limelight only to trigger chaos, destroying his own bright future with his own hands. "Perhaps he should settle down and focus on doing solid work; that is the proper path a young man ought to take." ...This was a reporter from their own church. "I am deeply saddened. We may be losing him; he was meant to shine." ...This was also a reporter from their own church. "No matter how sharp the blade, it cannot withstand the twilight stagnation of Order. He did his best, but could not pierce Order's darkness!" ...This was an external church reporter. "Look, he sits there alone, hands tucked into his clerical robe pockets, so lonely, so desolate. His heart must be filled with disappointment and despair, for he could not save a Church of Order destined for decline." ...This was another external church reporter. Karen, about whom the reporters had already drafted countless biographies in their heads, silently gripped the medallion in his pocket and channeled his spirituality into it. The command was issued. Minister Bernie left his seat and walked over to Karen. He knew Karen's punishment would be expulsion from the Whip of Order, but given the scale of the disturbance he had caused, that could hardly be considered a genuine penalty! Thus, Bernie understood: this fellow before him had a faction watching over and supporting him from the shadows. Consequently, with things having reached this point, he felt none of the joy of a victor, nor did he care to gloat or mock. When all was said and done, he, who was about to be demoted, was the sole loser. He could only hope the superiors would honor their promises and not forget to reinstate him once the storm blew over. Minister Bernie extended a hand before Karen and said in a relatively calm tone: "At any rate, it's all over." Karen gently pushed Bernie's hand aside. Though sitting in his chair, he cast a gaze that seemed to look down upon him from on high: "Actually, it has only just begun."