[The Spacetime That Might Exist] Negotiations

Early morning, on a long corridor outside a building somewhere in the Imperial Capital.

Gluck followed behind Kanon, leaning on his cane. The iron-clad end of the cane struck the smooth stone surface, producing a clear, rhythmic "tap, tap" sound that echoed briefly in the spacious, high-ceilinged corridor.

Kanon, who was half a step ahead, slowed his pace slightly upon hearing this and turned his head to the side.

"Currently, it belongs to the Empire..."

"National Day, I know." Gluck smiled, a smile with a hint of something else. "Heh... Now I don't have to attend those tedious and hypocritical social banquets anymore. Thinking about it, it's actually quite nice."

Kanon didn't respond to the remark. He stopped in front of a heavy, iron-gray metal door. The door was undecorated, except for a simple handle in the center. He grasped the handle, pressed down, and pushed it open. The hinges turned smoothly, almost silently. Then he turned to Gluck and made a simple "please" gesture, his movement as precise as if measured with a ruler.

The room was much darker than the hallway. It was completely empty except for a heavy metal table and two chairs of the same material.

Gluck went in, tapping his cane on the ground with a dull thud. He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the bare walls and cold floor. Kanon followed, closing the door behind him. With a soft click, the lock clicked shut.

Kanon walked to the wall, took off his dark trench coat, and hung it on a hook with meticulous care. Then, he removed his signature peaked hat and hung it up neatly as well, revealing a neat black ponytail hanging down his back. Underneath, he wore a close-fitting dark uniform, the two silver stars on his epaulets gleaming with a cold, hard luster in the dim light.

Gluck sat down as well, his cane resting on his lap. His gaze swept over the two distinct silver stars on Kanon's epaulets.

"Where are the usual interrogators? And who are you...?"

"Kanon," the other party replied, their voice calm and devoid of any extra emotion. "They belong to the Empire Army, the Magical Special Forces."

"Magical Special Forces..." Gluck repeated softly, his gaze lingering on the two silver stars for a moment. "Judging from your rank, you're the vice-captain, right? My treatment is quite high. What, have you already labeled me a traitor?"

Kanon placed his hands, folded together, on the table. His fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles.

"Lord Gluck," he began, each word distinct, "You only need to say one sentence—'I was deceived by the Demons Macht.' That alone is enough."

He looked up at Gluck.

"Conspiring with Demons is a grave crime. Even if His Majesty wishes to show leniency, there is little room for leniency in the face of such a charge."

Gluck listened quietly, his face expressionless. Only after Kanon finished speaking did he slowly lean back in his chair, the wooden back creaking slightly.

"That means," he said, "That I will be executed secretly, just like the other nobles who are singled out. Right?"

"Under normal circumstances, I'm afraid so," Kanon acknowledged, his tone remaining calm. "But please understand, His Majesty the Emperor does not wish to treat a minister who has just eradicated corruption within the Fortress City Weise and rendered meritorious service to the Empire in this way."

Gluck suddenly smiled. He raised his hand and touched his neatly trimmed goatee.

"Do you think I'm not prepared to go to hell?" he chuckled. "If there's really going to be an execution, please make it a grand affair. Evil deserves a public trial, not a silent disappearance."

He paused for a moment, then continued.

"Furthermore, eradicating corruption is something I, Gluck, cannot accomplish alone; my power is insufficient. This achievement was accomplished by Macht and me together. Therefore, I am not the only contributor."

"I understand," Kanon replied immediately. "Lord Gluck, I am well aware of this. Therefore, please also..."

Gluck didn't speak immediately. He stroked his beard, seemingly deep in thought.

After a moment, Gluck raised his eyes and looked at Kanon. A sharp glint flashed in his weathered eyes.

"Who sent you?" he asked. "Duncan? Hmm... Was it Duncan, the Court Magic...? No, that can't be him. Duncan knows very well how much I despise corruption, and he knows the ending I want. He wouldn't go to such lengths."

"It seems your owner is someone else. Duncan's current actions will directly affect this person's interests... I see."

"That's why they deliberately delayed my interrogation until the National Day holiday. That way, Duncan would be busy with court celebrations and wouldn't have time for anything else... Haha, I never thought I'd get dragged into this kind of political struggle."

He leaned back in his chair, a knowing look on his face.

"You want to use me as a hostage to blackmail Duncan? What do you plan to make him do? Or... are you just worried that Duncan's next move will be detrimental to you, so you want to use me to distract him?"

Kanon sat opposite him, silent. His dark eyes were calm and unwavering, neither confirming nor denying, and showing not even a hint of being proven right.

Gluck looked at him for a few seconds, then slowly exhaled.

"... Fine. I don't have a choice anyway. Do as you please."

Kanon didn't speak, but simply took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. The pack was flat and plain, with some minor wear on the edges. He stood up, walked to Gluck, bent slightly, and handed him the cigarettes.

"Lord Gluck, if you don't mind, please have some." His voice was particularly clear in the empty room. "I wonder if this cigarette suits your taste?"

Gluck lowered his eyes and looked at the pack of cigarettes. He reached out, his fingers lingering on the pack for a moment, then picked it up. He opened the lid, revealing several dark brown cigarettes neatly arranged inside. The tobacco had a peculiar aroma, strong yet with a strange bittersweet taste.

"Your sense of smell is too acute." Gluck took out a cigarette, held it between his fingers, and looked up at Kanon. "I'm not asking you to please me."

Kanon didn't respond. He took out a box of matches from his inner uniform pocket and struck one. The flame rose and Burning steadily, illuminating half of his expressionless face. He leaned forward to hand the match to Kanon.

Gluck raised his other hand, palm up, making a slight obstructive gesture.

"No need," he said, "I can do it myself."

He took the box of matches, pulled out a match, and struck the phosphorus side hard. With a soft "hiss," an orange-red flame lit up. He cupped his hands, lowered his head, and brought the cigarette close to the flame. He took a deep drag, and the cigarette tip quickly lit up with a dark red light, followed by a wisp of straight, thin blue smoke.

He exhaled smoke, which slowly Swirl and distorted within the beam of light.

Kanon withdrew his hand and sat back down in the chair opposite him.

Gluck looked at him and took another drag of his cigarette. Smoke slowly escaped from his nostrils.

"You probably don't smoke," he said.

"Our captain really enjoys smoking," Kanon replied, his gaze lingering on a spot on the table, "So I always carry some with me."

"Is that so?" Gluck responded softly. He leaned back in his chair, took another drag, and let the smoke linger in his mouth for a moment, savoring it. "I see... I do remember the taste of this tobacco. It's been recently..."

He paused, as if confirming the timeline of his memory.

"Oh, no. For you, that was more than half a century ago, haha."

He raised the hand holding the cigarette and flicked the ash lightly with his index finger. The grayish-white ash drifted down and silently scattered on the gleaming metal tabletop.

"Who is the current captain of the Magical Special Forces?" His gaze pierced through the rising smoke and landed on Kanon's face.

Kanon did not answer. He remained seated, back straight, his dark eyes calmly meeting Kanon's gaze, his face devoid of any expression.

But Gluck saw it. Deep within those eyes, perhaps it was just a barely perceptible contraction of the pupil, or perhaps just a barely perceptible twitch of the corner of the eye muscle—a confirmation of something precisely touched.

After all, he had previously mentioned that he was familiar with the smell of the tobacco.

"I see." Gluck nodded, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. "It's Fres."

Kanon: "..."

He took a drag and slowly exhaled. The smoke blurred the lines on his face.

"If that guy is your owner, then everything makes sense. That little girl is a captain now," he murmured, as if talking to himself. "Time really flies."

The cigarette Burning quietly between his fingers. His gaze drifted to the small window high above, looking at the small patch of azure sky cut off by the window frame.

The floodgates of memory were opened by that unique and familiar tobacco scent, and scenes from more than fifty years ago came rushing back to him as clearly as if they were yesterday.

More than fifty years ago, at the Gluck residence in Weise.

The afternoon sun was a bit too bright, making the stone path in the courtyard appear white.

A completely black four-wheeled carriage stopped in front of the mansion's main gate. The door opened, and a foot wearing a gleaming military boot stepped out first, making a clear sound as it landed on the stone steps.

A woman got off.

She had short, neat blond hair that gleamed with a cold, hard sheen in the sunlight. She wore the standard wide-brimmed hat of the Magical Special Forces, the brim pulled low, obscuring half her face except for her sharply defined jawline and tightly pursed lips. She wore a crisp black uniform over a long, fitted overcoat, buttons fastened all the way to her neck. Her shirt collar was stiff, and her vest cinched her waist, creating a sharp silhouette. Several rows of brass buttons adorned her chest, each one polished to a shine. Several leather belts of various functions were cinched at her waist, and a square leather weapon sheath hung on her right side. She wore small black lambskin gloves.

He stood there like a javelin driven into the ground. He was meticulous, capable, and exuded a commanding, unspoken sense of professionalism.

She is Fres, an envoy sent by the Empire to "inspect" Weise.

She raised her head, her gaze landing precisely on a balcony on the second floor of the mansion.

Gluck was leaning on the stone railing, casually looking down.

Their eyes met in mid-air.

It only lasted for a fleeting moment.

Fres was the first to look away, straighten her hat brim, and strode into the mansion, led by her attendant. Her military boots clattered on the stone slabs, the sound of her footsteps regular and steady, echoing in the quiet afternoon courtyard.

Gluck withdrew his gaze and turned to leave the balcony.

Macht stood behind the desk, like a silent sculpture draped in a golden coat. His purplish-red eyes gazed toward the door, his face expressionless.

"I think we should kill her here," he suddenly said.

Gluck was taking a bottle of red wine from the wine cabinet when he heard this, and paused. He turned to look at Macht, a smile on his face, a smile with a hint of amusement.

"This is the first time I've heard of this," he said, pulling out the cork and pouring the dark red liquid into two glasses. "It's quite unusual that you would volunteer to kill someone."

He picked up a glass and handed it to Macht. Macht didn't take it, his gaze still fixed on a certain point in the void.

Gluck didn't insist. He placed his glass on the table next to him, picked up another glass, and gently swirled it.

"She's just here for an inspection," he said casually, taking a sip of his drink. "A perfunctory response will suffice. Or perhaps—"

He raised his eyes and looked at Macht.

"You don't trust me?"

Macht finally turned his head, his crimson eyes meeting Gluck's gaze.

"She possesses the power to destroy the entire Fortress City Weise," he said, enunciating each word clearly, his voice devoid of any exaggeration, simply stating a fact he had observed. "Her combat abilities are far beyond what one would expect from an envoy. There must be a reason for this."

Gluck smiled, walked to the window, and looked down at the conspicuous black carriage in the courtyard.

"Is that so? Are they trying to convict us?" He swirled his wine glass, his tone even tinged with amusement. "Perhaps this isn't so bad."

"Your joke has gone too far," Macht said. He lowered his eyes, placed his right hand on his left chest, and performed a standard Northern Countries greeting with fluid and practiced ease.

"Lord Gluck," he spoke again, his voice lower and clearer, "Although she is strong, I can deal with her. Please allow me to fight her."

Gluck had his back to him, gazing out the window. After a few seconds, he slowly turned around, still wearing that smile.

"You still don't understand politics, Macht." He walked back to his desk, sat down, and placed his wine glass on the table with a soft "clink."

"For us, there is no way out if we go against the Empire. Killing an envoy might be easy, but then what? The Empire's army, the Magical Special Forces' follow-up investigation... Weise can't afford to take that. Since you yourself said she's so strong, then the only one who can kill her is you, old friend. We can't hide it from you anymore."

Macht remained standing silently, his hand on his chest. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on his golden coat.

"All of Weise's enemies will be eliminated by me, Macht," he finally said, his voice calm and even.

Gluck stared at him for a long time. The study was quiet, with only the faint sound of a clock pendulum from somewhere in the mansion in the distance.

Then, Gluck suddenly laughed. The laughter was not loud, rather short, and contained a complex mix of emotions.

"Very good," he said, leaning back in his high-backed chair, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the armrests. "It wouldn't be bad if it really became like that."

He raised his eyes and looked at the intricate relief decorations on the ceiling, his gaze drifting into the distance.

I hope that day never comes.

Macht didn't speak again. He lowered his hand, straightened up again, and resumed his silent and steady guarding posture, like a true sculpture standing in the study light.

A moment later, there was a knock on the door, two knocks, rhythmic and restrained.

"Come in," Gluck said.

The study door opened, Fres walked in. She had taken off her wide-brimmed hat and tucked it under her arm. Her short, golden hair was neatly combed and tied into a sleek ponytail at the back of her head. She had regular features and a dashing air about her.

She walked to a suitable spot on the desk, stopped, and stood with her heels together, making a soft tapping sound.

Then, a smile appeared on her face, her eyebrows curving upwards. The smile was standard and appropriate, perfectly softening her otherwise cold and hard demeanor. But Gluck could see clearly that deep within her blue eyes, there remained calm and still, like a frozen deep sea.

"Lord Gluck," she began, her voice clear and polite, "I have come to Weise on the orders of His Majesty the Emperor. Excuse me for the intrusion."

Gluck rose from his chair, walked around the desk, and put on a warm and polite smile. He tilted his head slightly, adopting a posture of attentive listening, as if the other person were a distinguished guest from afar, rather than a messenger who might carry a fatal judgment.

"Captain Fres, you've come a long way, you must be tired." He gestured to the chair beside him, "Please have a seat. You must be weary from your journey, would you like some tea and refreshments?"

"You're too kind." Fres readily accepted, sitting down in the guest chair with her back still straight, placing her hat on her knees. "I have official business to attend to and cannot delay. Let's begin."

"Of course, of course." Gluck sat back in the main seat, placing his hands clasped on the table, leaning slightly forward to show complete cooperation and attentiveness. "What would you like to know? Weise's recent tax records? Defense deployments? Or the progress of ore mining? I'll have the clerk fetch all the relevant files..."

The conversation unfolded in an atmosphere that appeared harmonious but was actually rife with subtle tensions. Fres's questions were precise and incisive, pointing directly to key aspects of Weise's governance, some even touching upon the delicate balance of interests between Gluck and other nobles in the empire. Gluck, on the other hand, handled the situation with ease, answering flawlessly, sometimes cracking jokes to deftly gloss over sensitive topics, and sometimes showing sincerity by proactively providing some seemingly insignificant data.

Macht remained standing half a step behind Gluck, like a lifeless decoration. But his crimson eyes were fixed on Fres the entire time, his gaze calm yet like an invisible probe trying to penetrate that perfect official mask and measure the true depth of danger hidden beneath.

Fres seemed to completely ignore the Demons guard's presence. Her entire attention was focused on her conversation with Gluck, her smile impeccable, her tone calm and professional.

Only once, when Gluck mentioned the rotation schedule of a certain border patrol unit, Fres picked up her tea and gently blew on it. Her gaze seemed to unintentionally sweep over the shadow behind Gluck, lingering for a moment on Macht.

Then, she lowered her eyes and took a sip of tea.

Everything is as usual.

The cigarette in the interrogation room had burned down to its last embers.

Gluck stubbed out the last bit of his cigarette on the metal table. The dark red embers struggled for a moment before going out completely, leaving a small patch of charred marks and a faint, almost imperceptible, burnt smell.

"In the end," he said slowly, his voice hoarse from smoking, "I still choose to remain in this pointless state of mutual probing with Fres."

He raised his eyes and looked at Kanon, who was still sitting upright opposite him.

"That guy was a troublesome villain," Gluck said calmly. "Now, I regret my choice. If I had known it would turn out this way, I should have had Macht kill her back then."

"Now my old friend is gone too..." He forced a smile, letting out a short, self-deprecating gasp, "It's true what they say, 'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.'"

He leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers interlaced, chin resting on the back of his hands. This posture made him appear less imposing than a lord.

"Heh," he chuckled, his gaze refocusing on Kanon's face, "You've had it tough too, helping that cunning she-vix advance her schemes. It must have been exhausting, haven't it? If you need any advice, I can offer it."

Kanon's facial muscles remained completely still. He didn't even blink, simply calmly meeting Gluck's gaze.

"I appreciate your kindness, Lord Gluck," he said, his voice as steady as before, showing no sign of offense or wavering. "I will state in the report that this case requires discretion and a lenient sentence."

He paused slightly, letting his words settle for a moment in the quiet room.

"If you need redemption, then continue to serve as the lord of Weise, fulfilling your duties to the people there until the very end."

After speaking, he stood up. The movement was swift and decisive, and the chair legs scraped against the floor again with a slight creak. He walked to the wall, took down the long, dark trench coat hanging there, slipped his arms into the sleeves, and straightened the collar and shoulder line. Then he picked up the wide-brimmed hat, put it on his head properly, and the shadow of the brim fell back onto his face.

"This is also His Majesty the Emperor's wish." He faced the door, his back to Gluck, and concluded, "After all, no one is better than you. If you want to go to hell, it's not too late after that."

His hand gripped the cold doorknob.

"Furthermore, if you believe that Weise's current peace is due to the efforts of the two of you, then you are even more wrong..."

"What do you know?"

Gluck's voice interrupted him. It wasn't loud, but it was deep, like a stone thrown into stagnant water.

Kanon paused for a moment, then said, "I misspoke."

"I don't know what your plans are in the Imperial Capital," he finally said, "But I just hope that before we go to hell, those places aren't already full of you."