Naga's expression softened, and the sharpness from before melted away like ice and snow. A serene smile curved her lips.
"I hope so," she said softly, her voice seeming somewhat distant in the empty living room. "I don't have many friends. You count as one. But if the day comes when we truly have no choice but to turn our blades on each other—I won't hold back."
She raised the can of Coke beaded with cold condensation. Droplets on its surface refracted the scattered light from the ceiling lamp. The gesture was casual, yet somehow carried a sense of ceremony.
Amon looked at her and, after a moment, raised the can before him as well.
The two cold aluminum cans lightly clinked in midair, producing a brief, crisp ding, like the final signature on some invisible contract.
They tipped their heads back and drank. Carbonated bubbles burst across their tongues, sweet with cane sugar, sliding down their throats and leaving trails of chill behind.
After swallowing, Amon set the empty can back on the table. His gaze settled on Naga's face again as he suddenly asked, "I remember you once said you wanted to enslave humanity through the power of 'capital.' Have you already put that into practice?"
"Isn't it interesting?" Naga laughed. Her smile was pure and radiant, like a child discovering something novel.
She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling, and began enthusiastically explaining her "masterpiece" to Amon—the company's comprehensive system of rules and regulations.
From employment contracts to insurance and benefits, from defining work hours to detailed rewards and punishments, she laid it all out in neat order and airtight logic.
"See?" she concluded at last, her face full of pride as though displaying a perfect collectible. "Although these are merely the internal regulations of a single company,