Perun and Lukman sat on opposite ends of the couch, the dim yellow light casting long shadows across the living room. The air smelled faintly of stale tea and dust,.
Lukman leaned back, rubbing his temple.
"Buying a private port outright isn't possible right now," he said calmly, though his eyes flickered with calculation. "I don't have that kind of cash. But… I do have an alternative."
Perun looked up. "An alternative?"
Lukman nodded. "A friend of mine is the governor of Indus City. Urus. The sea port there is small—almost forgotten. Half-cut from the open sea. Barely profitable." He paused, watching Perun's reaction. "Do you think it will work?"
Perun exhaled slowly. "It could. But how do we acquire authority over a port, even temporarily?"
A faint, crooked smile appeared on Lukman's face.
"As I said, I have good relations with Urus. He's… a debauche of sorts. Reckless. He spends without thinking—sometimes even dipping into the city's budget." Lukman's fingers tapped lightly against the armrest. "Money speaks clearly to people like him."
He frowned for a moment, then added, almost casually, "Ah, I forgot—how long do we need the port?"
"Two or three weeks should be enough," Perun replied after a brief calculation. "But take it for a month. Less suspicion."
Lukman nodded. "Alright. I think five thousand dollars should be enough."
He leaned forward and picked up the landline resting on the table. The dial tone hummed softly in the silence. With practiced ease, he dialed a number etched deep into his memory.
"Urus," Lukman said when the call connected, his voice warm, almost friendly. "I need a favor. I want to acquire your port—for one month."
A pause.
Urus's voice came through the receiver, sharp and suspicious. "Why? That port is nearly cut off from the sea. There's no profit in it. What are you planning?"
Lukman chuckled lightly. "Nothing troublesome. Just a private matter. Temporary use."
Another pause—longer this time.
"I don't like this," Urus said. "It smells unnecessary."
Lukman's tone softened, then hardened subtly. "Five thousand."
Silence.
Urus resisted, questioned, complained. Lukman countered patiently, dismantling each objection one by one. After several minutes of bargaining, Urus finally sighed.
"Five thousand five hundred," Urus said. "Final."
"Done," Lukman replied instantly.
The call ended with a dull click.
Perun had listened to everything without interrupting. He nodded slowly.
"It works," he said. "Just like you said."
Meanwhile, Vaelor and Truman stood inside Augustin's office. The curtains were half-drawn, muting the daylight. Robert and Jackson had already arrived, standing quietly near the wall.
Augustin sat behind his desk, fingers interlocked. His expression was unreadable.
"You all will act for the sake of the Vice-Chancellor," he said at last. "Based on your abilities, I've decided your assignments."
The room grew colder.
"Vaelor and Jackson. You will investigate the Three Family Union."
He turned slightly.
"Robert and Truman. You'll search for the so-called 'big shot' operating behind the scenes."
Then, after a pause, "I will personally investigate whoever is connected within the parliament."
No one spoke.
Augustin leaned back. "You're exhausted after the last cases. Tomorrow is the weekend. Get some rest." His eyes sharpened. "You begin on Monday."
Silence filled the room—not peaceful, but heavy. They all understood. Something intense was coming.
Elsewhere, inside a grand mansion wrapped in shadows, Junwell, Alfred, and Caeson sat together on a velvet couch.
Alfred was on the phone, his jaw clenched.
"Move faster," he snapped. "I don't care how."
The voice on the other end protested. Alfred's face twisted with frustration.
"Fine. Just don't fail again."
He cut the call and turned to Junwell. "They can't move right now. The High Chancellor is still cautious."
Junwell frowned. "Without our men, we can't control the Senate. Even if conquering the Third Division was not that difficult but other one with just we become troublesome."
Caeson leaned forward. "What about the bar people?"
Junwell shook his head. "They're not skilled enough."
Alfred scoffed. "Don't you remember? You and those bar idiots got your asses kicked by just two people when you get after Lukman and his niece." His eyes narrowed.
He continued coldly, "Those sheriff-hat fools are useless."
A brief silence followed.
"I think we should ask for help," Alfred said slowly, "from that Ricardo bastard."
Junwell hesitated. "Wouldn't that hurt Caeson's pride?"
He glanced at him.
Caeson's face darkened. "Are you two making fun of me?"
Alfred smirked faintly.
"Then do something," Caeson snapped. "Instead of talking."
The next morning, the city woke beneath a veil of murmurs and half-truths.
On the television screen, Elane Russo sat poised behind the news desk, her expression professional—but her eyes carried a flicker of intrigue.
"Breaking news," he said. "The Indus Sea Port has been officially acquired for temporary private operation by Arthur Conan and Raven, both registered travelers. The agreement grants them full operational authority for the coming month."
The words echoed softly through the room.
Inside Ricardo's residence, the broadcast ended. The screen faded to static.
Simpson lowered the remote. "That's the news, big brother."
Ricardo sat back in his chair, fingers steepled. For a moment, his face was blank—then, slowly, a smile crept across his lips. It wasn't joy. It was recognition.
Saggy frowned. "Brother, what do we get from this?" he asked, genuinely confused. "They acquired a port that's small, old, and almost cut off from the sea. And why would this even make the news? It's not important."
Ricardo let out a quiet chuckle.
"You still don't see it," he said.
Saggy scratched his head. "See what?"
Ricardo turned to him. "Do you remember the three men from the Three Family Union?"
Saggy hesitated. His brows tightened. "No… I don't." He clicked his tongue in frustration. "I was unconscious after that clash in the kaspus bar."
Ricardo nodded slowly. "Figures."
He rose and walked toward the window, gazing at the distant skyline.
"They want a point of invasion," he said calmly. "A silent one. A place that won't draw attention at first."
Saggy's eyes widened slightly.
"They want to move their Union into Florith," Ricardo continued. "And that port—small, forgotten, barely watched—is perfect."
Simpson leaned forward. "They contacted you?"
"Last night," Ricardo replied without turning around.
He finally looked back at them, his smile gone now—replaced by something colder.
"And this is important," he added, "because the High Chancellor is now backed by the Senate."
The room fell silent.
Saggy swallowed. "So… this isn't just business."
Ricardo shook his head. "No," he said softly. "This is preparation."