Volume 1. Chapter 32. Compromise

Sergey Gromov, a man with a heavy gaze and ice-cold composure, was the first to break the silence.He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together, and his voice—low, like a stone rolling over rough ground—cut through the tense air.— I can offer you information, Keito. Deep, precise, impeccably verified. Political intrigues, the routes of illegal shipments, dossiers on people even governments fear to mention. I know who has weaknesses, who can be nudged toward the abyss, and who is best left alone.There was no smile, no attempt to impress—only the quiet confidence of a man who had once stared death in the face and made it retreat.Chao Linfei spoke next.— I bring a debt. A debt that may prove useful to you.His voice was silk, but there was steel beneath it.— People who owe me their lives, their honor, their very existence. Politicians, assassins, merchants—the ones in power and the monsters lurking in their shadows. One word, and they are yours.Friedrich Weiss, who had remained silent until now, narrowed his pale eyes slightly. Adjusting the glove on his right hand, he smirked.— I don't care for word games, — he said with cold German precision.— I have weapons. Troops. People who don't ask questions and follow orders, no matter the moral cost. If you decide you need someone's head on a platter, just say the word. I'll have it delivered before you finish your cigarette.Yamato Reijiro, thoughtful and reserved, gave a slow, measured nod.There was no haste in his movements—only the precision of a blade waiting for the right moment to strike.— I can offer you honor, Keito, — he finally said, his voice soft yet carrying weight.— But not the kind found in books about samurai. The kind that cannot be bought. I can be your sword. And not just a sword—I can be your hand, your ears, your eyes in places you would rather not step into yourself.Richard Winters, lounging lazily in his chair, let out a short chuckle.— Ah, everyone's so serious, so focused, — he mused, flashing a smile at Keito.— But what if I offer you chaos? Pure, uncontrollable chaos—the kind that shatters plans and ruins fates. I have connections with those who can start a war over a single careless word. I have access to a world where deals are sealed in blood and betrayal is an art form. You want to flip the chessboard? Just say the word, and the pieces will fall.The last to speak was Ludovic Dupont. Unlike the others, he took his time, savoring the moment like a fine vintage.— And I, my dear friend, offer you something far more delicate, — his voice was rich, smooth, intoxicating.— Art. Recognition. Immortality. I can etch your name into history so that a hundred years from now, people will whisper it in reverence. I know how to turn a man into a legend—how to make him a shadow feared even by those who have long forgotten what fear is.A silence followed his words.They had placed their bets. Now, there was only one thing left—to see which card Keito would draw.— You know, Ludovic, if I wanted fame, I wouldn't be hiding here, in this breeding ground of geniuses.Keito rose lazily, stretching as if the conversation had bored him before it had even begun. His neck gave a quiet crack, but he didn't bother removing the blindfold.— Still, I appreciate that at least you didn't stoop to offering me wealth, like Lady Zhao. — He let out a quiet chuckle, as if confirming something to himself. — Otherwise, I'd have to seriously question whether any of you actually listen to me.He strolled leisurely across the spacious office, then stopped by the window, staring into the distance with sightless eyes. From up here, the view unfolded in all its beauty—rolling green hills, a silver ribbon of a river winding below, the sun flickering behind scattered clouds. The world looked peaceful. But Keito knew—it was nothing more than an illusion.— I don't need your money.His voice, calm and quiet, still carried a strange weight—one that made it impossible to ignore.— I'm after something else.He turned, letting the silence stretch just long enough to see if anyone would figure it out on their own.— In your vaults, — he finally continued. — I'm certain there's something there that would be of real use to me.The corner of his mouth twitched in the faintest shadow of a smile.— You understand what I mean, don't you?The silence hung heavy, suffocating.Someone's fingers tightened involuntarily around the armrest of their chair. Another drew in a sharp breath through clenched teeth.Was this… a joke?No.Judging by the expression on Keito's face—absolutely not.And that was more shocking than when he had casually loosened his grip and released that terrifying red energy.The greatest minds, the most powerful magnates, the most ruthless strategists—each of them had laid their most extraordinary gifts at his feet. Political power. Absolute protection. Technologies capable of reshaping the world. Even Zhao Meili, cold and calculating, had placed mountains of gold and personal connections on the table without much hesitation.And he…He rejected all of it.For some ancient trinkets?— P-pardon me… — The first to break was Friedrich Weiss, a brilliant financier who had spent his life believing that money could solve anything. — Are you seriously saying that…— Precisely.Keito's response was calm, unbothered, as if he didn't notice the stunned stares fixed on him.The room fell into silence once more, heavy and charged.No one could grasp what exactly he was planning, but one thing was certain—this man was playing a game whose rules only he understood.Ludovic Dupont ran his fingers nervously along the pristine cuff of his expensive suit. He was used to reading people, seeing right through them. But now… Now, he was looking at something unfathomable.— Keito, — he said slowly, enunciating each vowel with deliberate care. — I can understand a man who craves power. I can understand one who desires wealth. Even the pursuit of fame and immortality makes sense to me.He laced his fingers together, leaning forward slightly, his sharp gaze fixed on the enigmatic young man before him.— But you… — his voice dropped to a near whisper. — You ask for artifacts long forgotten, even by their creators.Sergey Gromov, a broad-shouldered man with the stance of a soldier, let out a dry chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest.— You know, kid, I've met plenty of people who shroud themselves in mystery just for the sake of the game. You don't seem like one of them. So tell me—why do you want this junk?Keito, who had been quietly watching the sunset through the window, slowly turned his head.— You see… — He paused, as if tasting the words before speaking them. — I only seek what holds true value. Not for you. Not for the market.His voice remained calm, unwavering.— But for the world.A quiet scoff came from the corner—Zhao Meili.— How poetic. You sound like a man willing to overturn the entire board for a single pawn.Keito smirked, but there was no amusement in it.— A pawn? Perhaps. — He took a step forward, shoving his hands lazily into his pockets. — But placed correctly, even a pawn can topple the king.His fingers idly brushed the hem of his cloak as he spoke, his tone slow, almost mocking. Yet beneath that lazy drawl lurked something sinister—like a predator stretching out, knowing its prey had nowhere left to run.— You people live in your neat, predictable little world, blind kittens fumbling in the dark. You wake up, go to work, celebrate, make plans… convinced you understand how life works.His smirk widened, but it held no warmth.Someone swallowed nervously.— But the truth is, everything you call reality is nothing more than a thin layer of dust covering the abyss. You have no idea what happens behind the curtains.His gaze swept over the room, slow and deliberate, as if weighing who would break first.— And trust me, it's better that way. Because if you knew…Keito tilted his head slightly, studying them the way one might study an insect just before crushing it.— You simply wouldn't survive.The silence that followed was deafening.