Chapter 35
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The brew surprised her with its quality, surpassing her low expectations. Though no triumphant fanfare echoed in her mind, it edged out the budget brews from her grueling study sessions.
“Does this batch hit the mark? Sourced from a supplier endorsed by the Empire’s oldest coffee house.”
Kyle’s face lit up at her subtle approval, a spark of satisfaction in his eyes.
“Our patronage has surged because of it. Overwhelmed solo, I brought on help. Emily, the one who served us, handles everything with sharp efficiency.”
He gazed at Emily, his look broadcasting triumph over the hire as a badge of the café’s thriving status.
Then duty recalled him, twisting his features into a sheepish grin.
“Sorry for rambling on and holding you up with side chatter.”
She reflected that the café details had felt like the core reason for the meeting.
Gravity settled over Kyle as he squared his shoulders, signaling gravity ahead.
She mirrored him, setting aside her cup and aligning her spine.
A weighted silence hung before he ventured forth.
“Ms. Diaz, care to join forces with me?”
Context from their chat tricked her into picturing a barista role.
Such labor promised simplicity, though likely temporary, and stability weighed on her thoughts.
Resignation ever loomed in her mindset, so the proposition stirred automatic calculations.
Sensing her quiet, Kyle clarified swiftly.
“With the Blue Hawks, that is.”
Blue Hawks marked the shadow network, the Emperor’s hidden blade under Kyle’s command.
She pondered the elite assembly the Emperor curated from imperial peaks.
What drew their gaze to her?
Merely extra designation 102132.
“Blue Hawks—the real deal?”
Her murmur sought confirmation amid the haze, prompting Kyle to rub his jaw.
“Caught you off guard, huh?”
His counter-query widened his eyes in amusement, drawing a chuckle.
“Post-war, palace return ramped up our load. We need bodies yesterday.”
Worry creased his brow, underscoring the frenzy.
“Rest assured, your skills are what sold me.”
After owning the manpower crunch, he layered on the flattery, eyes locked on hers.
Ministry drudgery offered no respite either.
Her shoulders lifted in a casual shrug, brushing off the grind.
“Short-staffed that bad?”
Her sidestep probe earned a huffed laugh from him.
“Desperate for help, sure, but your talent is the true pull.”
Half-truths flavored such pitches.
She latched onto the desperation angle.
How slammed could they be?
Even Finance swelled post-Emperor’s homecoming, so Kyle’s tier dwarfed her burdens.
Peace’s return amplified their scramble?
Her eyes swept the three-year-old café, too genuine for mere camouflage.
Novel lore resurfaced: Kyle’s crew anchored in the capital, corralling nobles during the Emperor’s absence.
Frontline clashes with the Emperor demanded scant intel.
Brute dominance simplified strategies.
His absence demanded vigilance against surprises, granting Kyle lulls.
Now reclaimed, internal reins tightened.
Battle-hardened since crowning, the Emperor eyed lingering rot from prior rule—bloated schemers lurking low amid his grip on arms and adoration.
Yielding power’s allure? Unlikely for the corrupt, spiking Kyle’s docket.
Legitimacy trumped raw might in the game.
Sudden scouting clicked into place.
Yet unease lingered.
As her musing dragged, Kyle dangled the lure, sliding over parchment.
“Your hiring agreement.”
A victor’s smirk played on his lips.
“Job details stay vague for now, but…”
Blanks gaped for duties and sites.
Salary leaped quadruple her wage.
Kyle’s grin bloomed as her gaze lingered on the figure.
Polite refusal brewed in her, but…
The sum defied easy dismissal.
Perhaps probe deeper?
Catching her sway, he sealed the hook.
“Blue Hawks entry pay, straight up.”
“Entry level?”
Her pitch rose unwittingly.
He elaborated smoothly.
“Blue Hawks bind via Oath of Mana. That sum folds in risk premium matching our edge. Your slice stays tame, Finance-caliber.”
She never envisioned espionage; secrecy vow posed the snag.
Oath of Mana locked penalties on breaches.
Disloyalty equaled doom.
Numbers whispered safety in compliance.
Current pay held decency.
Quadrupled? Irresistible.
“Blue Hawks cloak members in facades. Your palace post fits—no new setup. You’ll draw dual stipends.”
Not quadruple—quintuple.
Temptation gripped hard.
Blind to fates, she’d have inked instantly.
Timing doomed it.
Pre-plot turmoil barred risks; six months to heroine’s dawn demanded shadows.
Quiet held, but palace gale brewed.
Nobles dismissed the Emperor’s war-weary mildness as raw power alone, plotting crush.
They warped his fatigue from life-scarring campaigns into softness.
Rumors of demonic thirst? Propaganda, they scoffed.
Truth halved those tales.
Killing irked him, lives weighed little.
Annoyed by buzzing pests, he’d soon unleash.
Plot clock ticked overdue for eruption—odd hush prevailed.
Other distractions?
Redemption unlikely; purge loomed.
Blue Hawks offered storm shelter?
Alternate peril beckoned.
Blind rage might cull ministers broadly, but not eradicate.
His force plunged into the fray.
Eye-of-hurricane peril; she craved slim survival.
Kyle eyed her stall, venturing soft.
“Tough call on the spot. Take all the time needed—lean yes if you can.”
Delay granted, she dipped her head.
Overthinking fueled desire.
Half-sold already, she claimed breathing room.
Six months to tale’s spark; tempest neared, extras’ fates veiled.
