The position of Regional Chief of the Yorktown Region was thus settled.
In truth, the help the Academy faction offered Karen was very simple. They hadn't pushed him up toward this seat, but they could help clear away outside interference just as he was about to sit in it.
To put it bluntly, it was to prevent another parachuted outsider from being dropped in to reap the spoils.
Karen was already satisfied with this.
For many second-in-command officials in local regions, the difficulty of advancing to the top post often had little to do with how well they had performed, and everything to do with the leadership above.
Sometimes, the better you did, the less likely the higher-ups were to give you the chief position, because the perspectives of higher and lower ranks were fundamentally different.
The instinct below was to maximize one's own power; the instinct above was to keep that very scenario from happening.
After all, from Sus to Gaspol, Karen had already lived through two consecutive parachuted leaders.
This was also one of the hallmarks of the Academy faction. Its active promotion of members was actually not that aggressive. Unlike other political or family factions, it did not follow a model where standard-bearers and their inner circle formed tightly knit leadership teams backed by systematic resource pouring and patronage.
It lacked the instinctual drive of an active political faction fighting for self-preservation and continuation, and it possessed neither a unified doctrine nor a guiding policy.
So you couldn't count on it to build a stepping stone for you from the ground up.
Yet when you relied on your own efforts and excellence to reach within a single step of your goal, countless hands would often reach down from above to grab your arms, your wrists, and your shoulders, hauling you up the rest of the way.
Was it pure?
Yes, very pure.
From the moment Karen entered the living room and exchanged greetings with everyone, he could feel that purity. Everyone was gentlemanly and understated, free of the high-pitched fervor and slick obsequiousness found in other factions. You didn't need to shout slogans pledging allegiance to anyone, and you couldn't even discern a clear hierarchy at first glance.
However...
The purer a circle was, the more pragmatic it tended to be.
Here, the weak found no support, and failures received no consolations. Only the strong could mobilize its resources.
Jakes touched his ring and said, "Lately, several departments in the university have been conducting project research commissioned by the Holy See. There are actually some interesting developments."
Jakes was a vice president of Order University. The university did far more than simply cultivate talent for the church; it often served as a think tank. Before a new policy emerged, it required a period of preparation and brewing, just as storm clouds had to gather before the rain fell. Thus, Jakes could discern the direction of the wind well in advance.
Andilao held his teacup, continuing to sip his tea, and Pare did the same.
Karen knew Jakes's next words were directed at him, so he took the initiative to ask:
"So, what interesting things would those be?"
"I believe the Holy See is making advance plans for the potential turbulence that may arise in the near future. As you know, more and more people are beginning to believe the prophecy of the Return of the Gods. Even within our Church, quite a few unusual movements occurred recently, though they were inspiring in nature, heh.
"Because of this, certain arrangements must officially begin.
"From the top down, the Twelve Knight Orders of Order will undergo full reorganization and training to reach full strength. Any vacancies left by historical or special circumstances will be filled, and the First Knight Order in particular will get ready for action.
"Following from that, personnel from the garrison will be steadily transferred into the First Knight Order over the coming days, and some retired veteran knights will also be recalled.
"As for what trickles down to the local regions, aside from the Whip of Order and the Regional Administrative Office—the two largest local authorities—a third institution is likely to be added to conduct genuine reserve training."
Karen understood. The Church was preparing to face an upcoming large-scale war, initiating a preliminary mobilization from the top down.
According to the tradition of the Church of Order, the Knight Orders of Order were the primary combat force, the garrisons were the second echelon, and the third echelon comprised the Whip of Order along with experienced personnel from other departments within the system.
Now, the intent was to formally establish the third reserve so that timely and effective reinforcements could be mobilized when a full-scale war broke out.
Yet for these words to be spoken here, and particularly to Karen, the underlying meaning was clear:
*I am letting you, the incoming Regional Chief, know about this ahead of time. How do you plan to prepare for it?*
Mobilization for war did not mean war was imminent. Moreover, the Church of Order's previous war against Samsara had set the miraculous precedent of the "First-Day War." Even among the higher-ups, few believed war would erupt immediately; in fact, the vast majority assumed that no power would dare drag the Church of Order into an endless quagmire that forced it entirely onto the defensive.
Therefore, when this policy trickled down in practice, everyone's focus would still inevitably shift to how they could extract more personal and factional benefits from it.
Thinking a level deeper: had these three heavyweights gathered here to welcome him into the circle not merely because they happened to be free, but because this meeting had been orchestrated all along as a premeditated setup?
Karen noticed that although Andilao and Pare appeared casual and relaxed on the subject, remaining silent was itself a form of keen attention.
Thus, Karen's response could not be understated. It had to be... bold and assertive.
While striving to showcase his strengths, he also had to flaunt his ambition—even greed—because he needed to cater to all three of these big figures. If he wanted them to buy in, the pie could not be small.
Karen spoke up, "If this policy is formally promulgated and confirmed to be implemented across local regions, I would be more than happy to see it happen. In fact, it would be just like being offered a pillow right when I was starting to doze off."
Jakes glanced out of the corner of his eye at the other two, then smiled at Karen and asked:
"Oh? How so?"
Karen replied, "First, I believe the true impact of this policy does not lie at the top. Both the Knights of Order and the garrisons already possess a rigorous internal operational logic of their own, making it difficult for outsiders to intervene.
"The ones most affected will actually be the local regions. Vice President Jakes, the third institution you mentioned—I presume it won't be an independent third party?"
Jakes shook his head and said, "No. Setting up an ad-hoc independent third party makes no sense, as it could never truly survive wedged between the Regional Administrative Office and the Whip of Order."
"That was my thought as well. Therefore, this third institution will likely become a subordinate branch under the joint jurisdiction of the Regional Administrative Office and the Whip of Order. In regions where the Administrative Office holds sway, it will fall to them; where the Whip of Order is dominant, it will fall to the Whip."
At this point, Andilao, a senior official of the Whip of Order, spoke up: "Across all regions, there isn't a single one where the Whip of Order completely overpowers the Regional Administrative Office. The one doing the best is your Yorktown Region, Karen. After all, your region is the demonstration model for the Whip of Order's reform. Even so, the Whip of Order in Yorktown cannot claim to suppress the Regional Administrative Office.
"Head Bishop Bern is a formidable figure, haha."
Karen picked up on Andilao's words: "Indeed. But my relationship with Head Bishop Bern is very close. On the vast majority of issues, my views and stance align with his. Furthermore, Bishop Bern has expressed more than once his willingness to entrust the future of the Yorktown Region to me."
That last sentence was pure bluster.
Bern was indeed acting that way, but he would never say it out loud; certain things could be done, but never spoken of, as staying silent left room for maneuver.
However, the situation Karen faced right now was like pitching a slide presentation to executive leadership on behalf of his project team.
While others drizzled a drop of reality over a mountain of bluster, Karen was merely sprinkling a dash of hype over a bedrock of reality—he was already being remarkably honest.
Sure enough, after Karen finished, all three present nodded quietly.
Clearly, they had run background checks on Karen and understood the situation in Yorktown well, including his cordial rapport with Bern.
There was no need for Karen to flatter himself; they could see it plain as day from Head Bishop Bern's series of political maneuvers.
While the three had been sipping tea before Karen's arrival, they had even joked among themselves about whether Karen was Bern's illegitimate son.
In short, these three big figures were not easily fooled.
Karen continued, "I can ensure that Head Bishop Bern yields practical control of this new body to me. In the Yorktown Region, the Whip of Order will face no obstruction from the Regional Administrative Office, and the Yorktown Whip of Order is currently under my complete control."
Faint smiles touched the lips of the three figures. They knew full well how utterly Gaspol had been sidelined during her tenure as Regional Chief.
"If this policy truly comes down, I am confident that we can build another model pilot in the Yorktown Region."
Karen laid heavy emphasis on the word "another."
Jakes raised a hand. "Be specific."
Karen nodded and said, "First of all, whenever a new institution is born, it is inevitably chaotic and uncontrolled at the beginning, awaiting fine-tuning from above. But with the general political wind blowing in this direction, even if the higher-ups realize the need for regulation and adjustment, they will usually apply it to the second and third batches that follow, tacitly accepting the fait accompli of the first batch.
"The Knights of Order, the garrison...
"The regional institution is merely the third-tier reserve. It may not look like the most critical piece, but we can seize this exact opportunity to boldly flesh it out!
"Order University could arrange for a batch of outstanding interns to enter this institution for field training. Exactly how many departments are established within it... would be entirely up to you, Lord Jakes.
"You could even assign prominent professors to serve directly as directors and deputy heads of these departments, letting them bring their own students along to construct the administrative framework."
Vice President Jakes chuckled. "I fear those professors might not be willing. You have no idea how arrogant they can be, nor do you know the kind of prestigious posts they could secure if they chose to leave the university. Many branches and departments would welcome them with open arms, and recruiters frequently come knocking on my door, giving me endless headaches.
"Karen, not to discourage you, but the benefits and stipends they enjoy at the university would be difficult—no, virtually impossible—to match in that new department you're proposing.
"The only thing that might tempt them is... if you could offer them freedom. I know that crowd all too well. Their competence is unquestionable, but in temperament and work habits, they are accustomed to the academic environment and often fail to adjust outside. That's why, although outside departments come headhunting every year, every year professors and scholars also come crying back to me, begging for a transfer back."
"That problem can be resolved, Lord President. Any professor or student who comes over will keep their official affiliation with the university; there is no need to transfer their credentials to the Yorktown Region.
"After all, my Yorktown Region... couldn't afford them anyway."
Hearing this, Vice President Jakes straightened slightly. If this took shape, it would mean Order University gaining a massive operational outpost of its own on the outside.
No, not just one. If this concept truly succeeded, Order University could establish such an outpost in every single region!
Karen said, "How many departments are set up beneath this body will be entirely up to you. As many professors, scholars, and specialists as you can mobilize, that is how many new offices can be opened. All our region needs to do is provide the office space."
Jakes fell into thought.
Karen turned to Andilao. "My Lord, if this plan is overfulfilled, it will mean the Whip of Order gains another leverage point against local Regional Administrative Offices, helping Whips of Order in other regions accelerate the reclamation of their authority. Furthermore, establishing this institution in the Yorktown Region would nominally formalize the Whip of Order's administrative model, allowing us to establish oversight branches accordingly."
Andilao rubbed his chin with his hand and said, "Your concept is very bold, but I think the Whip-Wielder would indeed be interested."
"Indeed. Our Whip of Order has only just begun to revive across the board. Even if our status is nominally restored and our authority claimed back from the Regional Administrative Offices on paper, without the personnel, matching departments, and operational capacity, we cannot avoid continuing to be constrained by them. But if we possess our own operational system... then the power of the Whip of Order can be genuinely executed and enforced.
"After all, supervising others is certainly easier than supervising oneself."
"Hahaha," Pare burst out laughing. "If a region really runs two redundant administrative apparatuses, what an enormous waste that would be!"
Karen replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world: "Exactly. So let the Regional Administrative Office stand down and let us take over."
"Heh, you've got quite an appetite, kid." Pare quietly drew a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, pulled one out for himself, and offered the pack to Karen.
Karen took a cigarette. Fortunately, though he had quit smoking, he retained the habit of carrying a lighter, so he proactively offered Pare a light.
Pare leaned forward slightly, cupping his hand to block the wind out of courtesy.
As Pare exhaled his first puff of smoke, Karen remarked, "A new department, a new system... imagine how much equipment and apparatus will require a fresh round of procurement."
Hearing this, Pare licked his lips and silently drew in a long drag.
Aside from those enshrined in the Temple of Order, most of the divine artifacts within the Church were held by the containment space.
In ordinary times, the containment space's ostensible sideline income came from fees for requisitioning divine artifacts.
In reality, however, the containment space commanded the church's highest-end equipment manufacturing technology; its chain of interests and industrial pipeline reached into many systems and departments across the Church.
In name, they participated in very little, but in profit, they reaped tremendous windfalls. There was no helping it—who told them to hold a monopoly on the most cutting-edge craft?
Karen had learned this inside information from Vic, whose teacher, former High Priest Rasma, had once served in the containment space.
The containment space system was not large in scale, but it was unquestionably lucrative. Rasma fit the Church of Order's politically correct profile of an "orphan"—a High Priest without family backing—yet before assuming the position of High Priest, he had been deliberately assigned to the containment space, an arrangement that had secured him crucial backing.
Karen stood up and said, "I believe this is an exceptional opportunity, and I believe we are certain to succeed."
Jakes rubbed between his brows. "If this succeeds, the rewards are indeed tempting. But if something goes wrong, the scrutiny from above will be exceedingly ugly."
Andilao said, "Karen, you are heading out with the investigation delegation to the Desert Church next, correct?"
"Yes, My Lord. We muster and depart the day after tomorrow."
"By the time you return from the investigation delegation, Gaspol's arrangements should be settled. As for this proposal, let Gaspol submit it."
This was a way of shifting the risk. If things went south, it wouldn't mean the men present bore no responsibility, but at least a designated scapegoat was clearly established.
Karen said nothing. In truth, he didn't care much about who would take the blame if it failed, because his time was limited; when it came to political gambles, he had no need to fear the fallout.
"I don't think we need to trouble the Regional Chief with this. I can make the proposal myself, and I am willing to bear all consequences."
However, the three big figures completely ignored Karen's remark, treating it as nothing more than polite posturing.
Pare flicked his cigarette ash and said, "Whether this succeeds or not still depends on how events unfold. If some new incident occurs soon, or if another church produces credible rumors of a god's return, the Holy See's tolerance for our actions will increase accordingly."
Jakes looked toward Pare. "Have a few divine artifacts in the containment space spit out prophecies claiming they sensed their masters' aura of return?"
Pare shook his head. "Too fake. And it would implicate me too deeply. Actually, this current opportunity is quite good. Karen, do you see where I'm going with this?"
"The Desert Church?" Karen asked.
Pare exhaled another puff of smoke. "Whether it's the wastes or the desert, since you're part of this investigation delegation, you'll have room to maneuver. When the time comes, you can handle the investigation report however you see fit. Or better yet, cook up some omen of a returning god—that would be ideal, heh. I've heard the delegation's preliminary work hasn't been going smoothly at all."
"That's quite a tall order, My Lord."
"That's why it's being entrusted to you, Regional Chief Karen. We recognize your capability." Pare put out his cigarette and spread his hands. "In short, however large a table you can set, that is how many dishes we can serve."
...
The conversation came to an end, and Karen left the study. After his departure, Pare lit a second cigarette and remarked:
"That kid has nerve. We originally only planned to test the waters and feel our way forward, but right off the bat he went for the most radical option. I honestly worry he might be a madman."
Jakes rested his clasped hands on his knees. "Perhaps a madman like that is exactly what we need. Wasn't that what we hoped from him all along?"
Andilao said, "In a while, I will sound out the Whip-Wielder. If this proposal gains his approval, our personal exposure will be minimal. And if worse comes to worst, if Gaspol alone isn't enough, we can throw Karen overboard as well."
Pare nodded. "What I appreciate most about the kid is that he knows he's taking a gamble, and he knows enough to shoulder the risk himself. Still, whether this project can actually get off the ground comes down to our Vice President here."
Pare and Andilao stood to reap institutional benefits, and if things blew up, the risk would be diluted across their systems. But the Vice President had to actually deploy personnel into the field; his exposure was the highest.
Jakes picked up his cold teacup, took a sip, spat out a tea leaf, and said:
"I'm in no rush. I'll watch how things develop."
...
After saying goodbye to the group outside the drawing room, Karen walked out of the manor accompanied by Jax.
"How does it feel?" Dean Jax asked.
"Very comfortable," Karen said.
Jax smiled and said, "It's a good circle."
"Yes, it truly is."
"Do you need me to arrange a car to drive you back?"
"No need, Lord Dean. I'd like to take a walk by myself."
"Alright, then I won't see you off." Jax turned and walked back toward the estate.
In truth, Karen had left early. For a newcomer who had just joined the circle, this was supposed to be a faux pas.
Yet Karen saw nothing improper about it. Many people believed that one had to hustle to blend into a circle, but in reality, when your strength reached that tier, the circle would come to accept you of its own accord.
Karen began strolling along the lakeside. The scenery here was pleasant, and the gentle evening breeze cooled his slightly overheated head.
Indeed, not even Karen himself believed that the proposal he had outlined in the study could actually be realized—it was simply too extreme.
But it didn't matter. Every year, the files tossed into the trash across all departments of the Church of Order... could probably generate enough electricity to power a small city if burned.
As he walked, Karen saw a black crow fly up in front of him, guiding his path.
Karen followed the black crow to a three-story villa across the pond. In the courtyard, Hiderod sat grilling steaks.
"Professor, you have a house here as well?"
"Surprising?" Hiderod smiled. "The university raised the funds to build these back then. Once you reached a certain rank, they would cover fifty percent of the cost. Her grandmother and I weren't divorced yet, so together it covered a full hundred percent."
"So that's how it was."
Karen sat down in the chair beside Hiderod.
Flipping a steak with his tongs, Hiderod remarked, "This is also the only asset we never divided."
Karen said, "I imagine it wasn't out of nostalgia."
"Indeed. Neither of us could afford to pay the other half in coupons."
"Houses here are that expensive?"
"Originally, it was just an employee benefit for staff of a certain rank. But later, leaders from various outside departments bought property here, and other churches purchased houses for student retreats. The prices skyrocketed out of hand."
"Ah, no wonder."
"Seeing how leisurely you were strolling along, I take it the gathering went well?"
"Yes. It seems I will smoothly take over your granddaughter's post."
"Hahaha." Hiderod wasn't offended. "It's about time she set her work aside and thought carefully about her life. Look over there..."
Karen looked over. On the pond, two small boats drifted side by side.
"The Holy Child and her, one boat each. The Holy Child is angry, yet she insists on shadowing him, which only makes him angrier. I'm truly at a loss with this granddaughter of mine. When she ought to draw closer, she keeps him at arm's length; when she ought to give him space to cool off, she glues herself to him."
"In terms of work, the Regional Chief is beyond reproach."
"Just like her grandmother. Her grandmother was beyond reproach at work too—outranked me long ago, heh. But there is a kind of person in this world who gets along smoothly and normally with outsiders, yet when they return home and face the person who should be closest to them, they have no idea how to interact."
"That does happen. They habitually save their best moods for outsiders and never bring them through the front door."
"I can hardly understand it." Hiderod removed a steak and began slicing it.
"Perhaps their sense of self and identity relies on outsiders and external affairs to feel validated. At home, they are lost."
"Lost?" Hiderod placed the sliced steak onto the plate before Karen, then popped a piece into his own mouth, chewing slowly. "I don't think they're lost. They just don't care. They take everything at home for granted, and the people at home are just a blur to them."
Karen didn't answer. He picked up his fork and dug into the steak; he was hungry.
Those Academy faction folks were truly too refined—drinking only wine and tea without even preparing dinner!
Hiderod asked, "You're close with the Lord Holy Child. What kind of person do you think he is? Karen, I'm asking you in all seriousness. Please give me an honest answer."
Karen replied, "He has never forgotten that he is the Holy Child."
Hiderod pressed his lips together. "Could you be more specific?"
"In Wien, there is a way to distinguish an aristocrat from a commoner. When undressing for a bath, the one who shows embarrassment in front of others is usually a commoner, while the one who remains entirely unconcerned is an aristocrat. But that isn't because aristocrats lack a sense of shame."
Hiderod said, "Because aristocrats are accustomed to undressing before servants, and in their eyes, servants are not human."
Hiderod began flipping the second steak. "I worry greatly about my granddaughter, for her future."
"Though it may sound cruel, I think you should respect her choice."
"However, she is just like her grandmother. At times, they lack the capacity to make choices in certain areas. Just as you said, they are flawless at work, but in emotions and family, they are completely lost.
"Most importantly, I could divorce her grandmother to find relief, but I cannot sever the flesh-and-blood bond that makes her my granddaughter. This is a grandfather's love for his granddaughter. Can you understand that?"
"I understand." Karen nodded—after all, his own grandfather had even severed the bloodlines of the rest of the family just to bestow them exclusively upon him.
"I know you can influence the Holy Child."
Karen set down his fork, took a sip of water, and paused eating. He asked earnestly, "What are you trying to say, Professor?"
"What's done is done. The engagement is set. I cannot change it, nor do I have the power to. I only hope the outcome can be as normal as possible. I hope you can help her—no, help both of them.
"I don't have much to offer you as a token of gratitude, but I looked around..."
"You don't need to be so courteous with me, Professor. The lecture you gave me this morning was more than enough. Furthermore, while I cannot say for the future, at least for now, the Lord Holy Child treats me as a friend. Wanting a friend's life to go well is only natural."
Karen had always had a clear understanding of Mavaglio. Mavaglio lowered himself because he wanted to play at familial affection or friendship, but he was always well aware that he was crouching down.
Then again, the pot couldn't call the kettle black. Mavaglio often clung to his reserved pride as the Holy Child, while Karen occasionally let slip a mindset of being "apart from the rest."
Being around him was actually a convenient reminder for Karen to practice self-reflection.
"I have photocopies of the Mad Pope's diaries and essays, left behind during his time as an exchange student here. And the dorm room where the Mad Pope once lived was carved out of the dormitory building and sealed away by the university, but I have a way to enter.
"You know, as a historical researcher, one can hardly resist reading the words they left behind or visiting the places they once inhabited—it is an opportunity to resonate with their spirit and flesh.
"Are you interested in this?"
Karen answered frankly, "I am interested, but I don't wish to make a transaction with you, Professor."
Hiderod shook his head. "This isn't a transaction. Consider it supplementary tutoring."
"Very well, Professor."
After finishing his meal, Karen left. But just as he reached the lakeside, the two small boats pulled ashore.
The first to step off was Mavaglio. Even the dimness of the night could not conceal the gloom in the Holy Child's eyes.
After Gaspol stepped ashore, she offered Karen a perfectly normal smile. "The gathering went well, I assume? They were very eager for you to join."
Look at that—the Regional Chief was back to normal.
Karen answered, "Very smoothly. What's more, I proposed a rather risky and radical plan. Lord Andilao suggested you submit it before stepping down, so you can shoulder the risk if it fails."
This was not an affectation of honesty; there was simply nothing to hide. No one was a fool, and Gaspol would figure it out herself eventually anyway.
Gaspol's expression turned slightly solemn upon hearing this. After a pause, she said, "It is what I should do."
Mavaglio suddenly sneered, "With me around, even if you really mess up, you won't face any real punishment, right?"
Clearly, tonight's abysmal date had infuriated the Holy Child so thoroughly that he couldn't help resorting to bitter sarcasm.
Gaspol replied, "Because the nature of my work has changed."
Mavaglio retorted, "However, regarding your current work, I am very un—"
Karen reached out and slung an arm around Mavaglio's shoulder. Mavaglio froze.
It wasn't that he disliked Karen's "presumptuous" gesture; in fact, in their day-to-day interactions, he was usually the one who preferred such familiarity, while Karen was the reserved one maintaining boundaries.
"Do you know the difference between internal family conflicts and external ones?"
Mavaglio was capable of cooling his temper around Karen. He sighed and asked, "What, you're going to lecture me?"
"Yes. Why shouldn't I?" Karen asked with a smile. "Since you don't understand, shouldn't I teach you?"
"Heh, the nerve of you..." Mavaglio pursed his lips, then shrugged. "Fine, enlighten me."
Karen pointed into the distance at Lord Andilao, who had finished the gathering and was bidding farewell to the others at the manor gate, preparing to board his car.
"He proposed letting your wife take the fall and carry the blame."
Mavaglio glanced at Karen. "And?"
"Once his car drives out, go intercept it."
"Ha! And then what? Beat him up?"
Karen patted Mavaglio's chest and countered:
"Why not!"
Mavaglio looked at Karen in surprise. "Karen, do you even know what you're saying?"
"With your status, if you go beat him, would he dare fight back? Afterward, he won't dare report it either. He'll just have to swallow the beating for nothing. So why not? Go on, Mavaglio. Go teach him a lesson."
Mavaglio frowned. "But why should I go teach him a lesson?"
Karen pointed at Gaspol standing opposite them and answered:
"Because only after you teach him a lesson will you have the right to come back and teach her one."
"I..."
Karen said, "'I stood up for you and vented your frustration. If you still make me swallow anger in front of you, the fault lies with you.'"
"Right and wrong?"
"Yes. Right and wrong."
"Can married couples even divide things like that?"
"Your inability to divide them is your own problem, not a flaw in right and wrong."
"Hehehehe..." Mavaglio laughed. "I thought you were going to preach some grand logic of familial responsibility, but I never expected you to say something so naive. Karen, you really surprise me."
"It's fundamentally the same thing: 'I did something and sacrificed something for you and this family. I don't demand an equal return, but you should at least offer a smile.'"
Theories of absolute truth rarely solved practical problems. Karen felt that for someone like Mavaglio—noble and haughty to the bone—and the Regional Chief—lost when it came to intimacy—high-minded counseling was useless.
It was far better to ground their relationship in pragmatism, turning it into a dynamic of plus signs and equal signs, evaluating right and wrong by tangible contributions to the household. That was far better than endlessly draining and hurting one another.
Two squirrels single-mindedly hoarding nuts for their home were, in fact, quite happy.
Mavaglio rolled up his sleeves. Even he didn't know whether he was about to beat someone up for his wife's sake or simply to give face to his friend Karen.
Seeing this, Gaspol took a deep breath and said:
"Lord Holy Child, please do not act recklessly."
Hearing that, Karen gave Mavaglio a push and said:
"You hear that? Go beat him up, she's hurrying you."
Mavaglio's figure transformed into a cloud of black mist and drifted away.
Only Karen and Gaspol were left standing by the lakeside.
The two waited in silence for a while.
Karen broke the silence: "Regional Chief, I thought you would blame me for meddling in marital affairs."
Gaspol shook her head and said, "I wouldn't, because I know you mean well."
"Then why can't you show that side of yourself to Mavaglio?"
Gaspol replied, "For some reason, I can't. I admit that his anger today is my fault. He took the initiative to do a few things today, and I shouldn't have responded the way I did."
"I once had a subordinate who was just like that."
Karen thought of Philomena.
Gaspol asked, "And how did she solve the problem?"
*She didn't solve the problem; she just personally solved her grandmother.*
"It takes time. Sometimes, all it needs is a tiny breach... right here." Karen pointed to the center of his forehead between his brows.
*Didn't Philomena run a blade straight through her grandmother right there?*
"Then what should I do specifically?" Gaspol pressed. "I felt guilty toward him today."
"Because you know he's trying."
"I want to as well," Gaspol said with a faint smile. "Whether you believe it or not."
*I believe it. You even cut your finger today.*
"I have a suggestion. You said living and being married to him is work, but have you truly treated it like work? Though it may sound inappropriate and improper, I suggest you treat our Lord Holy Child as one of your subordinates.
"When a subordinate accomplishes a task and returns, you know to reward him. The greater the merit, the richer the reward. You can set up a progress milestone chart for yourself."
"That works too?"
"Of course. The prerequisite is that you must respond. Absolute equality of sacrifice in relationships doesn't exist, but emotional equality is achievable."
"Emotions? So what specific rewards should I offer?"
Karen hesitated for a moment. Just then, he caught sight of the black mist returning in the distance—the Holy Child had finished beating up his man and was heading back. So Karen deliberately replied:
"For instance, when a certain milestone is reached, you could allow him not to use the syringe."
Gaspol's face fell, filled with disbelief. "Karen, you and he really are close friends. He actually told you about that?"
*Buzz!*
Right on cue, the black mist descended and the Holy Child appeared. "I just broke one of his arms and one of his legs! When he and his security guards saw it was me, neither dared lift a finger to fight back, heh."
Immediately afterward, the Holy Child pointed a finger at Gaspol. "Alright! Now let's settle the score for how you upset me this afternoon. I'm going to teach you a lesson!"
Gaspol's furious gaze shifted from Karen to Mavaglio. Finally, as if some long-bottled emotion had finally found an outlet, she snapped:
"Get lost!"
Having cursed him, she spun around and walked toward her grandparents' villa.
"Huh?"
Mavaglio stood frozen in place. Karen stood beside him.
Once the Regional Chief's figure had disappeared from sight, Karen spoke up: "Do you need me to explain?"
"Hahahahahahahaha!"
The Lord Holy Child suddenly bent double with laughter, cackling like a fool, pointing toward the direction his fiancée had walked off in.
"Hahaha! She actually got mad! Karen, did you hear that? She told me to get lost, ha!"
Chapter 730