Certain Death thought about it for a moment.
"The Holy Kingdom, the Dragon Kingdom, the Re-Estize Kingdom, the Baharuth Empire, the Slane Theocracy, and the Elf Kingdom."
"A country that is all of the human race."
Raymond Zarg nodded.
What about the other side of the strait?
"Demi-humans, alien species. Those... beings that treat humans as food."
"So, I think he was protecting us."
Raymond Zarg's voice was calm, but a complex light flickered in his gray eyes.
"It's not about helping us fight, it's not about helping us conquer. It's about encircling us and keeping the enemy out."
Certain Death remained silent for a long time.
"Cardinal, don't you think... this is arrogant?"
"Arrogant?"
"Yes, arrogance."
Certain Death's fingers tapped lightly on the window frame.
"He alone decided the fate of an entire continent. He never asked anyone whether they wanted to be protected, whether they wanted to be kept in captivity, or whether they wanted to be treated like a flower in Garden."
Raymond Zarg stared at her for a long time.
Do you think he cares?
The finger that Certain Death stopped.
Do you think he'll ask that?
Raymond Zarg continued to ask.
Certain Death fell silent.
She knew the answer.
Won't.
That person won't ask.
Because he doesn't need to ask.
He has power.
He is determined.
He has his own opinion on what is right.
"Certain Death."
Raymond Zarg's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Exist."
"You said before that the Slane Theocracy cannot be its enemy."
I said that.
Certain Death remained silent for a moment.
"And they've become even more determined."
"He's protecting us now. If he thinks we don't need protection, or aren't worth protecting..."
She paused.
"He can at least fill the strait back in."
Raymond Zarg's lips curled into a slight smile, a smile tinged with bitterness and relief.
"You're right."
He turned around, walked back behind his desk, and sat down.
"Pass down the order. Strengthen vigilance along the coast of the strait. Tell the people that this strait belongs to us."
"Yes, sir."
Certain Death bowed slightly, then turned and walked towards the door.
After taking a few steps, she stopped without looking back.
"Cardinal."
"Um."
"Is the egg pancake shop still there?"
Raymond Zarg paused for a moment.
"Exist."
"That's good."
With Certain Death stride, he stepped out of the room.
The door closed behind her.
Raymond Zarg sat behind his desk, staring at the closed door, and remained silent for a long time.
"Higashino Makoto..."
He murmured the name.
What are you thinking?
No one answered.
Only the wind outside the window rustled the curtains, making a soft whisper.
In the capital of the Dragon King Kingdom, deep within the palace, in Deloron's private room.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, bathing the room in a silvery glow.
Draudillon sat on the windowsill, her legs dangling outside, gently swaying.
She wore a white nightgown, her long black hair cascading over her shoulders, gleaming softly in the moonlight.
He was holding a large ceramic wine glass filled with cheap red wine.
She wasn't pretending.
The person sitting on the windowsill at this moment is not that little girl who looks to be in her early teens, but the real her.
A young woman with a full figure, curvaceous body, and exuding feminine charm.
She took a big gulp of wine, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and let out a satisfied sigh.
"Cool."
There was a knock on the door.
"Your Majesty, are you still awake?"
It was the prime minister's voice, deep and restrained.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open, and the prime minister walked in.
He wore a gray robe, his hair was gray, his face was thin, and his gray eyes showed a hint of weariness.
He walked to the window, stopped, and looked at Draudillon sitting on the windowsill.
"Your Majesty, you've had too much to drink again."
"No."
Draudillon swirled her wine glass.
"I've only had two drinks."
Your face is red.
"No."
The prime minister sighed but did not reply.
He walked to the window and gazed at the strait under the moonlight in the distance.
The silvery-white ribbon gleamed dimly in the night, like a frozen bolt of lightning.
"Your Majesty, who do you think... did it?"
"Who else could it be but him?"
Draudillon's tone was flat.
"That guy always says things like, 'I know him, he's someone I really dislike.'"
"Mr. Higashino..."
The prime minister murmured the name.
Why did he do that?
"For the purpose of land acquisition."
Draudillon's answer was concise and direct.
"Land grabbing?"
"Yes, land grabbing."
Draudillon of her drink, then put down the glass, placed her hands behind her back, and looked up at the starry sky.
He once said that this world is his Garden, Garden needs a fence. Otherwise, wild animals will run in and eat the flowers.
She paused.
"Now, the fence is up."
The prime minister remained silent for a long time.
"Your Majesty, don't you think... this is going too far?"
"Too much?"
"Yes, that's outrageous."
The prime minister's voice was calm, but a complex light flickered in his gray eyes.
"He single-handedly altered the topography of an entire continent. He never asked anyone if they wanted the fence. He never considered the impact it would have on the lives of the people—"
"Prime Minister."
Draudillon interrupted him.
Do you think he cares?
The prime minister's fingers paused for a moment.
Do you think he'll ask that?
Draudillon continued to ask.
The prime minister remained silent.
He knew the answer.
Won't.
That person won't ask.
Because he doesn't need to ask.
He has power.
He is determined.
He has his own opinion on what is right.
"And he gave us angels."
Draudillon's voice softened.
"Twelve angels. Each one is as powerful as an army. He gave us safety, he gave us protection."
She paused.
"Now, he has given us a natural barrier, a barrier that will prevent those Orc from easily invading again."
She turned her head and looked at the prime minister.
Do you think I should be angry?
The prime minister looked at her for a long time.
What does Your Majesty think?
I think... we shouldn't.
Draudillon's voice was very soft.
"Because he had no obligation to do these things; he could have done nothing and watched the world continue to rot, but he didn't."
She paused.
"Although his methods were rough, although he didn't ask anyone, and although he was annoying at times."
The corners of her mouth turned up slightly.
But he did what we wanted to do but couldn't.
The prime minister looked at her, at the faint smile on her lips.
"Your Majesty, you... like him?"
Draudillon's fingers paused for a moment.
Then she smiled, a smile that was hard to describe.
"Maybe, but that's not important."
"Why?"
"Because he doesn't belong here."
She picked up her glass and took another big gulp.
Therefore, I don't ask. I don't want to, and I don't expect anything.
The prime minister looked at her for a long time.
Then he sighed.
"Your Majesty, you've grown up."
I've always been big.
Draudillon looked down at her own figure.
"It's just that you won't let me show it."
The prime minister's lips twitched slightly.
"Your Majesty—it was for your image—"
"I know."
Draudillon interrupted him.
"So I usually keep a childlike appearance."
She finished the rest of the red wine in her glass in one gulp, then stood up and walked back to the bedside.
"Prime Minister, issue the order first thing tomorrow morning: establish ports along the strait."
"Port?"
"Yes, the port."
Draudillon lay on the bed, her hands behind her head, her dark eyes staring at the ceiling.
"The strait is both a natural barrier and a passage. We need ships, we need docks, and we need to maintain contact with the mainland."
"Is Your Majesty not afraid of the demi-humans on the other side?"
"I'm not afraid."
Draudillon shook her head.
"Because we have angels."
She closed her eyes.
"Go out, I'm sleepy."
The prime minister looked at her, remained silent for a moment, and then bowed slightly.
"Yes, sir."
He turned around and walked out of the room.
The door closed behind him.
Draudillon opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.
"Higashino Makoto..."
She murmured the name, a slight smile playing on her lips.
"Thanks."
No one answered.
Only the wind outside the window rustled the curtains, making a soft whisper.