"…What on earth do you want."
Sydney Wellesley's lavender eyes trembled.
From her perspective, this was a deal she absolutely could not afford to lose.
"Aiden. Good work. You may leave now."
"Yes, Colonel. Please speak comfortably."
Click.
Once Aiden withdrew, only Sydney and I remained in the office. A strange silence flowed.
I rested my chin on my interlocked hands atop the table.
"Don't freeze up so much, Director. I'm not going to devour you. Do I look like some heartless monster?"
"…Considering the path the Colonel has walked thus far, even the title of monster would be insufficient."
At her sharp reply, the corners of my lips rose on their own.
To be honest, I could have demanded a very 'personal' price from her right now.
Just like Maid Ellie inside the train in the past. I could have torn away that cold Intelligence Director's mask right now and thrown her down atop the table to violate her.
She wouldn't have been able to resist. For the sake of her homeland and her queen, she would have gladly spread her legs.
But that would have been a foolish act befitting only a third-rate villain.
Sydney Wellesley was the Intelligence Director of the United Kingdom. Talented, young, and the Queen's closest confidant.
She was literally one of the highest-grade talents rarely found in this world.
To consume all of that for a mere one-time pleasure?
'The cost-benefit ratio doesn't just fail to add up; it makes absolutely no sense.'
Taking her body could come later without delay. For now, it was more important to hold the leash itself firmly in my hands.
I pulled a document folder from the drawer and tossed it onto the table.
"The price is simple. Thoroughly reasonable and pragmatic things."
"……."
The tension eased slightly. At least relieved that I wasn't demanding 'that sort of thing,' Sydney seemed to relax.
I briefly recited the core points.
"First. A ten-year exclusive right for the Sternberg Company to the post-war Londinium reconstruction project. Construction, railways, telecommunication network restoration—the United Kingdom's government-in-exile must officially guarantee and hand over every single lucrative concession to this side, separate from the Empire government's cut."
And second.
"A ninety-nine-year lease on major colonial ports including Santa Barbara, plus tax exemption privileges. I demand extraterritoriality whereby my personal assets and merchant fleets may come and go without any interference. Of course, in official documents bearing Queen Charlotte's royal seal."
"That is… complete highway robbery."
Sydney spat out through clenched teeth.
"It is no different from saying you will strip the royal family's pride and national wealth entirely, is it not?"
"You speak from ignorance. Are not the highway robbers the Reds of Londinium who seized an entire nation? I am merely requesting a rightful commission in exchange for returning the goods to their original owner."
Sydney bit her lip at my sound argument. It was an undeniable fact.
"Moreover, Her Majesty the Queen will find this acceptable as well. Rather than twiddling her thumbs in exile and losing her homeland forever, borrowing another's hand to reclaim the throne is a far more profitable venture. Is it not?"
Money and concessions could be sorted out slowly after rebuilding the nation anyway. When the country was on the verge of ruin, what did exclusive rights matter?
"…If it is only those two, I shall try to persuade Her Majesty."
Sydney nodded with difficulty.
But my demands did not end here.
"And third."
I tossed back the remaining whiskey and locked eyes with her.
"This is the core. The first two are merely formal business."
Clack. Setting down my glass, I leaned toward her.
"Director Wellesley. I want 'joint control' over the United Kingdom's Royal Intelligence Agency."
"…What did you say?"
For a moment, Sydney's voice shook greatly. Her lavender eyes dilated as if in disbelief.
"Just now… what did you say? Control of the Intelligence Agency?"
"That's right. If the government-in-exile's army and my Yeager Brigade are to conduct joint operations on the front lines, it is only natural that intelligence be shared transparently. I have no intention of tolerating you people blocking information under the guise of classified secrecy."
I drew a cold line.
"My subordinates' lives are on the line. Therefore, effective immediately, all intelligence collected by your agency, agent rosters, and covert operation plans must be reported to me equally—no, with the highest priority—and not only to Her Majesty the Queen. Along with the authority for me to exercise veto power."
"Utter nonsense!"
Sydney shot up from her seat, unable to contain herself.
"The Royal Intelligence Agency exists solely for the United Kingdom and Queen Charlotte! To hand over even half the agency's command authority to a mere Imperial officer—that is tying my hands and feet to make me the Colonel's slave……!"
"A slave, you say. You choose your words rather aggressively."
I leaned back leisurely and looked up at her.
'Status Analysis.'
[Name: Sydney Wellesley]
[Status: Overwhelming resistance; absolutely impermissible.]
[Emotion: Is this man saying he will trample even the most intimate domain of myself and my homeland? I can never tolerate this! My very identity is at stake!]
As expected, her rejection was extraordinary.
It was understandable. The intelligence agency was a nation's most secret domain. To share that with a foreign colonel?
It was madness. It was like sharing one's own wife with the neighbor.
'Enchanting Eloquence.'
[Skill 'Enchanting Eloquence (Lv.3)' has been activated.]
"Wellesley, Madam Director. This is not about becoming a slave. It means let us build true trust as equal partners. Is it not?"
Her eyes seemed to waver.
But.
[The target's strong identity and convictions have repelled the skill's influence!]
[Persuasion has failed!]
[Failure risk has been greatly reduced; the target's strong backlash will not occur.]
'Hmm.'
Even the cheat skill had failed without mercy.
Just as I thought. No matter how much of a cheat skill it was at Level 3, it could not overturn that woman's lifelong devotion to her homeland and queen with a mere snap.
Rather, thanks to the [Greatly Reduced Failure Risk] effect, it was fortunate she hadn't drawn her gun and flown into a rage on the spot.
"…No matter how you dress it up, that is coercion to privatize a nation's most private domain by a mere officer."
Sydney glared at me with bloodshot eyes.
"Just because military supplies are coveted before our eyes, I cannot sell my homeland's secrets. This proposal… I must refuse it."
Her voice trembled ever so slightly, yet it was resolute.
However.
I was not impatient in the slightest. There was nothing to regret. I had already expected the persuasion to fail.
"Is that so."
I sighed and leaned back. Rather, a faint smile formed at my lips.
"To think you would throw away the opportunity to stand at the vanguard and reclaim your homeland—most regrettable. Well, I understand. It must have been a frightening proposal."
Sydney's shoulders stiffened with a jolt.
"But remember this. Without the procedures Aiden has prepared and the command's approval… the government-in-exile's army can only stand and watch as the Empire occupies Londinium. The seat Queen Charlotte will take at the post-war negotiation table will be all the more pitiful for it."
"……Urk."
I slowly rose from my seat.
The important thing was the board itself. The picture of the checkmate I desired was already complete. From the beginning, the one with the authority to decide this matter was not Sydney Wellesley.
"I hold your lofty patriotism in high regard, Director, but this deal is ultimately a matter for Her Majesty the Queen to decide."
I picked up the coat draped over the back of the chair and slowly slung it over my shoulders.
"Whether to yield control of the Intelligence Agency and gain real military might and the glory of reclaiming the mainland, or to miss this opportunity because of pride."
Sydney's gaze was fixed on every movement as I fastened my collar. Yet she could neither refute me nor stop me in the end. The sheer weight of reality had sealed her mouth shut.
Clack.
Before grasping the handle and opening the door, I turned my head slightly and looked down at her over my shoulder.
"You may take your time with your answer."
After all, it was not my side that would be left wanting.
As the door closed, my steps into the corridor were endlessly light and leisurely.
The United Kingdom could do the worrying. Whether they spent the night clutching the telegraph in a nerve-wracking back-and-forth, or stayed up through the night with open eyes.
I simply needed to issue brigade operation orders and leisurely pass the time fooling around with my women while waiting.
As always, I held the upper hand.
*
That night.
Without fail, I used [Shared Vision].
Static.
With faint noise, another's field of vision connected to my retina once more.
A dimly lit room with only a small light turned on.
Sydney was sitting in the Class 1 secure communications room hidden inside her quarters, just as yesterday.
Only unlike yesterday, she was even wearing a neat outer garment.
Clack, clack.
Sydney's fingers struck the telegraph roughly.
[Emergency report. Colonel Max Yeager, commander of the Imperial Army's 207th Brigade, has put forth three conditions as the price for a backroom deal regarding the joint offensive operation.]
[1. Ten-year exclusive rights to the Londinium reconstruction project. 2. Ninety-nine-year lease and tax exemption rights on major colonial ports including Santa Barbara.]
Her fingers pressed down on the telegraph keys with force.
[And 3. Joint control and prior censorship rights over the Royal Intelligence Agency.]
[Your Majesty, demands 1 and 2 are humiliating but negotiable considering the war situation. However, 3 is a clear infringement on sovereignty and an arrogant ploy to hand Your Majesty's eyes and ears over to the Empire.]
[I strongly reject this third demand and propose finding an alternative negotiation route with Admiral Ruchel or other Imperial Army high command.]
Having finished transmitting, Sydney caught her breath.
Lying on the sofa in my room, I let out a snicker.
'An alternative negotiation route. As if that would work.'
What negotiation would the Empire's haughty generals conduct with a worthless government-in-exile? Among the local commanders, I alone was flexible enough to approach this as 'business.'
Shortly after.
Beep, dit.
From across the sea, in the New Continent, Queen Charlotte's reply began to arrive.
Sydney read the spewing paper tape.
[My dearest Sydney. The Colonel's conditions are certainly outrageous and rude.]
It was the very moment Sydney seemed to exhale in relief.
[However, we must accept all of his conditions.]
A single sentence tore through the air of the secure communications room.