Solomon wrote around two thousand words before tossing the computer aside.
First, because he didn't particularly like writing on a tablet—he preferred the feel of a physical keyboard. Second, because he believed that writing more than two thousand words a day was a sign of genetic mutation and needed to be strictly avoided. Third, because today was his day off, and on a day off, one should not work. Although he couldn't resist picking up the computer at first, he quickly began to reflect and firmly uphold his decision to rest. None of these were the most important reason, however. The real reason was a pale, slender arm that had draped itself over his shoulder. "We already missed lunch and dinner, darling." Solomon's eyes widened. "It's been the whole day!"
"You already know how this ends, darling. It's happened more than once—on the days and nights of your adult vacations—each time more intense, more passionate." Bayonetta narrowed her eyes, her fingertips trailing lightly down the Magus's skin like a feather. She said cheerfully, "Even though you did pretty well today, I only passed out a few times. That's still not nearly enough!"
"My lord, I need you to look at this document." Stephanie hesitated as she looked at the Magus slumped in his office chair. From the start of the day, Solomon had been dozing off and showing rare signs of listlessness. "What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Should I call the medical team?"
"No, no need. I just didn't sleep well," Solomon said, rubbing his eyes as he seriously flipped through the document. "This is a proposal. To use divination magic to locate Adapted Individuals? Submitted by you and Maya Hansen?" he asked. "Do you two really think this will work?"
"At the very least, it can quickly determine the location of Adapted Individuals and identify the populations with matching gene sequences," Stephanie shrugged. "I may not know the exact process of transforming a Praetorian Guard, but I do know each transformation is highly specialized. You need test subjects with similar gene sequences but unsuitable physical conditions—otherwise, you wouldn't require cloning experiments prior to transformation. If you allow us to proceed, the timeline of the Praetorian Guard transformation experiments will be greatly shortened."
The Magus let out a long sigh, as though weighing the pros and cons.
"Approved." He finally stamped the document with his personal seal. Stephanie, perfectly in sync, handed him the next document. "Every document is a test of my humanity, Stephanie," he said. "This is another pain I must endure."
"This is the pain you must bear to realize your ideals, Solomon." Stephanie unhesitatingly addressed him by name, shifting from the Director of Internal Affairs and Solomon's private secretary to his friend. She bent over and helped open the kraft-paper cover of the file, speaking with serious intent. "I've never heard of a supreme power-holder living an easy life."
"I know. I'm just venting a little. What, you think I'm not entitled to that? Fine, let's see these three hundred pages… Damn, there's an appendix. Hm… is this the Mafia's ledger and relationship network?" Solomon looked at Stephanie with suspicion. "Did Constantine actually let you do this?"
"He borrowed a few clerks from me. Permanently. Unfortunately for him, all the clerks were trained by me," Stephanie said calmly. "I won't allow anything in this organization to operate beyond your oversight, my lord. Whether or not you delegate authority to Constantine and his future fellow Guards, I'll do the same regardless. And no one manipulates administrative systems better than Hydra. As long as we move fast enough, it won't matter who the next Prime Minister of Italy is—we'll be the ones who decide. Only by controlling a nation can our cause truly take off, don't you think?"
Stephanie spoke with notable passion and pride.
Although this document involved a power dispute between the Praetorian Guard and the Internal Affairs Department, the root cause was Stephanie's belief that the power of the Eternal City was still insufficient. A nation—even one like Italy—was the proper stage for the Eternal City. With control of Italy, many of the Eternal City's affairs would become far easier—Solomon saw right through her intentions at a glance. He understood she had once again fallen into Hydra's mode of thinking: parasitize, corrupt, incite rebellion, then reveal their true face. And honestly, she wasn't entirely wrong. The ways that the world's financial syndicates, military-industrial complexes, and countless secret business alliances controlled capitalist states weren't all that different from Hydra's. Stephanie's previous role had been using the power of the Eternal City to infiltrate and quietly replace those groups.
When the time came for the Eternal City to step into the light, all the groundwork would save significant effort.
But ultimately, this was still power seized indirectly. Stephanie's ambition couldn't tolerate remaining behind the scenes forever.
"Patience. I think Mr. Gideon Malick understood the value of patience well," Solomon said. "You should learn from your father, Stephanie. Do you remember how I persuaded the Malick family? Money is just numbers. Votes are just tools for pandering and backroom deals. Real power is steel and fire. That's why the Malick family always pursued the Inhuman God. Stephanie, focus your efforts on sustaining the army. The army is the foundation of everything."
Seeing the Hydra heiress's expression worsen, Solomon added at the right moment, "That said, your proposal is not without merit. In fact, controlling a nation to serve the Eternal City is a very sound idea. Just not by our direct involvement. Use the old methods—don't link anything to the Eternal City. Support both the ruling party and the opposition, stir public conflict. It's slow, but it's steady. Feminism, environmentalism, human rights, LGBTQIADK and so on—there are plenty of causes for those fools to latch onto. Anyway, once the alien invasion happens, all that nonsense should disappear. And those who believe in that nonsense are probably going to be the first to die. Think about John D. Rockefeller. Back then, the Rockefeller name wasn't exactly praised. We can't afford that kind of reputation yet."
"So you're saying… you approve?"
"Call Constantine. This is something we need to discuss together." The Magus lowered his head and continued reviewing the file, but he already knew Stephanie had clenched her fists, ready for a fight. "Don't be so combative," he said. "If Constantine recruited your trained clerks into the Mafia to handle its finances, that means he agrees with what you're doing. Don't forget—I'm the one who modified his brain. I know exactly how intelligent he is. He's not just my bodyguard. He's also my advisor."
"Looks like someone's going to be out of a job soon." The Hydra heiress, like a locomotive puffing steam, furiously tossed her chestnut-blond hair and—with the aid of gears and mechanisms—forcefully pushed open the alloy-plated, embossed oak doors and strode out of the office. She was so angry that the Sisterhood artificial human standing guard thought something serious had happened inside.
"Nothing at all. She's just a little competitive," Solomon explained to the slightly dull-witted artificial human on duty. "If you can, go have a cup of tea. I'm quite safe in here. Really, I'm not lying—the Praetorian Guard will be here to relieve you shortly."
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