Understanding What He Meant

The few sentences echoed relentlessly in her mind: she had seen Mattheos as someone worthy of her side, despite his commoner status and ignorance of the Syndicate's inner workings.

Her younglings had been left in the dark as mere pawns for her manipulation. Perhaps those harsh words weren't meant for the bunny, but rather for the dragoness to recognize the need to resume her old ways of training her juniors—through unyielding discipline.

Yet, could Matt handle it? The Syndicate's newcomer training had always been a brutal gauntlet, a blend of torment and rigorous training. In the past, only a handful out of hundreds ever made it through.

Today, it was typically the Fifth Seats and above who selected candidates, discarding those who couldn't endure the pressure. The process had become a gauntlet of its own, a relentless culling that spared no mercy.

Arashi and nearly all Covert Ops members had fought tooth and nail to achieve their current ranks, their rise marked by struggle and sacrifice.

Mavislin thought back to those earlier times, when Beast was far more hands-on, appearing randomly to challenge new recruits with brutal trials.

Back then, earning the rank of Second Seat required proving one's worth not only to the First Seats but also to Beast himself, whose expectations were notoriously unforgiving.

Now, the process had become more streamlined, though perhaps less rigorous. Attaining the rank of Second Seat—or any rank for that matter—now depended largely on the approval of the current First Seat.

The challenge had shifted from proving one's mettle in grueling tests to navigating the often opaque politics of the Syndicate's hierarchy.

Mavislin pondered the changes with a mix of nostalgia and apprehension. The Syndicate was different now, more refined yet less formidable in some respects. The old ways, harsh as they were, had forged resilience and strength.

The new methods, though perhaps more efficient, lacked the crucible that had once tested the true mettle of its members.

Could Matt handle the grueling trials that had shaped the old members, or would she need to devise a special training plan for him?

No, that was what had infuriated Arashi in the first place—why did the bunny receive special treatment while the rest were left to fend for themselves? Mavislin shook her head and sighed.

She knew that if she wanted to retain her position and authority, she had to ensure fairness. If she began creating exceptions, she risked undermining the very principles that had once defined the Syndicate.

The challenge lay not only in testing Mattheos's mettle but also in upholding the standards that had forged the Syndicate's strength.

The dragoness then halted before the Viceroy's door, standing still as she remembered the blonde's words.

'After all, a leader who does not understand the hearts of others will never be able to lead'

Earlier, Mavislin had not grasped the full meaning of the words. But seeing Void's evident distress over the idea of her treating Mattheos better than the others, she finally understood the gravity of the situation.

Was it too late to correct her course? Her heart pounded in her chest. What was this feeling—fear? Trepidation? The dread that her younglings might turn against her if she failed to understand and address their concerns truly?

She needed to navigate this precarious situation carefully, or she risked alienating those she relied on most.

"Are you planning to stand there all day? Or do you like my door that much?"

The authoritative voice of the Viceroy shook the dragoness out of her thoughts, causing her to snap her neck up to meet his attention. 

"My apologies... I just had some things I needed to do..." murmured Mavislin, her voice heavy with worry.

Zenos, who looked like he had never gone through a bombing or stabbing, quickly scooped the mopey girl into his arms and went to his massive bed.

"What the hell?! Let me go!" screamed the dragoness and she flailed and kicked around.

Without a word, the hulking blonde threw the helpless girl onto the bed. Though his actions were rough, Zenos ensured that his force wasn't so great as to make Mavislin bounce off and slam into the nearby wall.

As she landed on the soft mattress, the dragoness instinctively wanted to protest, but she found herself swiftly pinned down by the Viceroy's entire body.

Fortunately—or depending on one's perspective—Zenos had discarded his combat clothes and was now dressed in casual attire. Mavislin, on the other hand, wore a simple blue flower dress, having felt no need to remain in her armor.

The Viceroy said nothing as he eagerly scanned his trophy beneath him, with both hands pinning hers on either side of her head. His tongue could not help but licked his lips in anticipation as he lowered his head beside her rosy cheeks.