Constantine

Ferdinand had read plenty of articles analyzing the weaknesses of human nature in his past life, and now he was putting that knowledge to practical use. It seemed to be working quite well.

The teachers at the University of Bulgaria were now crying without tears, yet they could not refuse. They could only console themselves that this was a price worth paying to oppose the tyranny of a dictatorial government and to stand by a friend.

Reading a self-criticism in front of the entire faculty and student body was indeed humiliating. However, if it was for the sake of opposing government tyranny and protecting a friend, even if word got out, everyone would only give them a thumbs-up for their character! Decades later, it would be a fine tale; having sacrificed their interests for the sake of reputation, they would be beyond reproach.

Don't let Chekhov's tough talk from earlier fool you; in truth, he was feeling quite guilty, for he had also used his position to smuggle someone in.

That person was none other than the future renowned Konstantin Stoilov, leader of the People's Party and future Prime Minister of Bulgaria.

Not long ago, Konstantin Stoilov, who was wanted by the government, had sought out his old classmate to beg for asylum.

Compelled by their friendship, Chekhov took him in, but fearing trouble, he hid him at the university, planning to recommend him to Ferdinand once the heat died down to clear his own name.

He hadn't expected to run into this situation. Now, Chekhov dared not delay any longer; he knew the cabinet had gone mad, and if Konstantin Stoilov were caught, his fate would surely be grim.

Since Christmas, the Stambolov cabinet had ordered the execution of no fewer than a thousand people. This was the primary reason Chekhov decided to defect from the Liberal Party and throw his lot in with Ferdinand.

He held no hope for the future of the Liberal Party. After weighing his options, he felt Ferdinand held the most potential. Cabinets could change every few years, but a Grand Duke could not be replaced so easily, placing him in an inherently invincible position.

He decided it was time to have an open conversation with Konstantin Stoilov; he recognized the capabilities of his old classmate.

However, for a political figure, the key was their stance. If he was willing to stand with him, then things would be easy. If not, he would have no choice but to let him fend for himself.

Konstantin had been feeling very depressed lately. For the sake of safety, he had spent a long time in a small, cluttered storage room, even having his food delivered at night. That he hadn't gone insane yet was a testament to his inner strength.

Seeing Chekhov arrive, Konstantin was somewhat excited, mixed with anticipation, and blurted out, "Chekhov, my friend, why are you here? How is it outside? Has the heat died down? It must be good news, right!"

Chekhov smiled faintly and teased, "What are you thinking? The situation outside is even more chaotic! You know about what happened on Christmas Eve, don't you? It won't blow over that easily; the police are busy arresting people everywhere!"

Konstantin's face changed drastically, and he said with a bitter smile, "Ah, God! When will this hellish life end! Do you know, Chekhov, I stay in this godforsaken place every day without a soul to talk to, eating and sleeping right here. Can you smell if there's an odor?"

Only then did Chekhov notice that Konstantin looked like a cornered rat, with scruffy stubble and disheveled hair, and there was indeed a thick, foul stench in the room.

"Oh, God! You really are miserable! Let's go outside and talk; it's terrible in here!" Chekhov said sympathetically.

Konstantin was shocked, grabbing Chekhov by the shoulders and saying, "God! What did you say? I can go out? Didn't you say the police were hunting me? Going out now..."

"Stop, let go of me, you idiot! Don't you know how filthy you are right now?" Chekhov scolded.

Konstantin released Chekhov and said, "Sorry! I was just too excited. You know, I don't want to spend another second in this hellhole! But can I really go out? What if someone sees me? It will implicate you!"

Chekhov walked out of the room and put on a look of utter grief, saying, "Oh, God! Poor Konstantin, you must have been driven mad by being cooped up in here; you're not even thinking straight anymore!"

Konstantin sprinted out of the room, took a deep breath of fresh air, and then said angrily, "Chekhov, you bastard! Stop with the sarcasm and tell me what's going on!"

Chekhov smiled and said, "Fine! Since you're so pathetic, I'll tell you! As of today, the police are no longer allowed to enter the university, so you are safe for the time being!"

Konstantin asked excitedly, "Really? Tell me, what happened during this time?"

Chekhov smiled and said, "This morning, the police illegally surrounded the university. The Grand Duke, in a fit of rage, dispatched the Palace Guard to take over the school, so it's safe here now!"

Konstantin said excitedly, "That's great! I can finally leave this hellhole!"

After saying this, Konstantin began to vent in the courtyard, running and roaring like a madman! A moment later, having regained his composure, he walked up to Chekhov and said with deep gratitude, "Thank you, my friend! I know you must have put in a lot of effort for this! Really..."

"Alright, we're friends, aren't we? You should go take a bath and get a good night's sleep. I have things to do, so I'll be off. I'll come see you in a few days!" Chekhov interrupted Konstantin's gratitude.

Having finished his conversation with Konstantin, Chekhov knew the matter was settled. Unless he wanted to continue living in the shadows, he would never refuse.

Ferdinand, still in the palace, did not know that Bulgaria's next Prime Minister was about to defect to his side; otherwise, his mood would have been much better.

"The Conservative Party and the Democratic Party are all good-for-nothings. It's one thing that they can't beat the Liberal Party, but they can't even manage to provoke them! It's been days and there's still no reaction!" Ferdinand thought with frustration.

In fact, Ferdinand was already prepared, just waiting for the Liberal Party and the Conservative Party to go to war so he could wipe out all the hidden dangers in Bulgaria in one fell swoop.

As a hardcore history enthusiast, Ferdinand knew that every successful reform was accompanied by blood and carnage.

Living a second life, Ferdinand did not want to dirty his own hands. Having experienced the great internet age, he knew that once he was stained with scandal, he would be cursed to high heaven by future generations; those public intellectuals wouldn't care about the "greater good."

Therefore, for the sake of his reputation both in life and after death, Ferdinand had indulged the Stambolov cabinet's tyranny. Otherwise, he would have stepped in to stop it long ago.

Now that it had come to this, Ferdinand still felt a pang of guilt. After all, it involved the lives of tens of thousands of people, and he didn't know if he should stop now.

"Your Highness, the fish has taken the bait!" Hoover rushed in to report.

"Hmm, I see." The layout was complete. Ferdinand said calmly, without excitement or pain, as if he were detached from the world and everything had nothing to do with him.