Chapter 102: THE BIG PLAN

The room had no windows. Its walls were lined with dark wood panels—old mahogany, with grain that had faded with age—and the only light came from a low-hanging lamp above the long table. That lamp—a lamp with a tarnished metal shade—fell right in the center of the table, illuminating five chairs behind it and leaving the corners of the room in shadow. The table itself was made of stone—black, with a cold, gleaming surface—and on top of it, there was nothing. No papers. No pens. No glasses. Just the empty stone surface, like an operating table waiting for a patient.

Five people sat behind that table. They didn’t move—didn’t lean back, didn’t cross their legs, didn’t tap their fingers. They just sat—with their backs straight, with their hands on their laps, with eyes staring straight ahead. Their faces—their faces couldn’t be read. No emotion. No expression. Just—emptiness.

In front of that table—in the center of the room, beneath the lamp—a man stood. He was around sixty years old—with graying hair at his temples, with a wrinkled white shirt, with a tie slanted to the left. His hands—his hands were trembling. Couldn’t stop. He tried to hide them—by gripping the edge of his shirt, by putting his hands in his pockets—but the trembling was still visible. Like a leaf in autumn—shaking without being able to stop.

"My name is Roky," the man said—his voice hoarse, with a tremor he couldn’t hide. "I—"

"We know who you are," cut in the man in the rightmost chair. His voice was calm—too calm. With slicked-back hair, with a neat black suit, with a gold watch gleaming on his wrist. "What we want to know—" he paused for a moment, leaning his body slightly forward, "—is why you carried out that attack. Without our orders."

Roky swallowed. Gulp. "I—I have a reason."

"We’re listening."

Roky drew a breath—slowly, with shoulders slightly raised. "I learned that Leonhard—the man who lives at that old base—he knows where the Crimson Stone is. I thought—" he paused for a moment, searching for the right word, "—I thought if I could capture him, I could interrogate him. Get the location of that stone. And—" he shrugged slightly, "—hand it over to you."

Silence. No one moved. No one spoke. Only the sound of the lamp above the table—hissing softly, hfff—and the sound of Roky’s irregular breathing.

Then—the man in the leftmost chair laughed. Ha ha ha! That laugh—a loud laugh, echoing throughout the room—didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s your opponent?" he said—still with laughter remaining in his voice. "You attacked that place—with all your troops—and you lost?"

Roky looked down. "I—"

"Do you know how many troops you’ve wasted?" the man in the leftmost chair cut in—he stopped laughing, and his face turned cold. "How many people did you send there? How many didn’t come back? All for a piece of information you didn’t even know was true?"

"It wasn’t just any information," Roky said—his voice a little louder now, though still trembling. "Leonhard knows something. I’m sure of it. If I could capture him—if I could make him talk—"

"But you lost," cut in the man in the second chair from the right. His voice—that voice was younger than the others, with a light tone, almost joking—but his eyes showed no humor. "You wasted troops. You got nothing. And now—" he leaned his back against the chair, "—our existence is known to the outside world."

Roky looked down again. Deeper this time. "I’m sorry."

The man in the rightmost chair—Tommy—raised his hand. Slowly. Just one movement—but everyone in that room immediately fell silent. Even the man in the leftmost chair—who had laughed earlier—closed his mouth. "Information about the Crimson Stone," Tommy said—his voice calm, but there was something in it that made the air in that room feel heavier. "We already know about it. We also already know who the keyholder is. But we didn’t move—" he paused for a moment, staring at Roky directly, "—until conditions were favorable for us."

Roky lifted his head—slowly, with eyes slightly widening. "So—so you already knew?"

"We already knew," Tommy said. "And your foolish attempt—" he leaned his body forward, "—only made our existence known to the outside world. Do you understand what that means?"

Roky didn’t answer. He just stood there—with hands still trembling, with a face already pale, with breath getting shorter.

"Give me one more chance," Roky said—his voice almost a whisper. "I’ll fix it. I’ll—"

Tommy raised his hand again.

Four guards appeared from behind the shadows—from somewhere, somehow—and they stood behind Roky. The man turned—his eyes widening—and he opened his mouth to speak. "Wait—wait, I—"

BANG!

The first bullet pierced Roky’s kidney—from behind, from the left side. Roky staggered—hgggh—and he grabbed the side of his body with trembling hands. Blood seeped through his fingers—drip... drip...—and he opened his mouth to scream. But no sound came out. Only ragged breath—hff... hff...

"Please," he said—finally, with a voice barely audible. "Please—I—"

BANG!

The second bullet pierced his heart. Roky staggered again—worse this time—and he fell to his knees. Thud. Blood flowed from two wounds on his body—from the kidney, from the heart—and he stared at Tommy with glistening eyes. "I—I just wanted—"

BANG!

The third bullet pierced his right lung. Roky fell to the floor—thud—and he coughed. Cough. Blood came out of his mouth—red, thick—and he writhed, trying to crawl, trying to get away. But his body wouldn’t cooperate.

Tommy stared at him—flat, without emotion. "Your punishment," he said—his voice calm, like he was reading from a book, "—is to be shot four times. In different places. If you can survive—" he paused for a moment, "—then your punishment will be forgiven."

Roky lifted his head—with difficulty, with eyes no longer focused. "Please—"

"But I should have said that before the punishment was carried out," Tommy continued. "But it’s the same. Because in the end—" he raised his hand slightly, "—you will die."

BANG!

The fourth bullet pierced Roky’s head—from behind, from above—and the man fell to the floor. Not moving. Blood flowed from his wounds—forming an ever-widening puddle—and Tommy stared at him for a moment before he lowered his hand.

"Goodbye," he said—softly, almost like a whisper, "—Mr. President."

The four guards dragged Roky’s body—slowly, without a sound—and they disappeared behind the shadows. The floor in the center of that room—the floor that had been clean—now had a drying puddle of blood. No one cleaned it. No one moved.

"So what are we going to do now, Tommy?" asked the man in the leftmost chair—Seike—with a voice that had returned to being light. "If we want to find his replacement, it’ll be a bit troublesome."

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He stared at the table in front of him—for a long time—and he leaned his back against the chair. "I’ve already handled the matter of the presidential replacement," he said. "How about you, Seike?"

Seike shrugged—casually. "Government affairs are in an unstable state," he said. "Well—" he smiled faintly, "—a little cleaning is needed so they can accept the new president."

Tommy nodded slowly. Then he turned to the man in the middle chair—Aqua—who had been silent all along. "Has the man who was with Leonhard during the attack been identified?"

Aqua lifted his head—slowly, with eyes slightly narrowed. "Not yet," he said. "He seems to be one of his former members."

"Oh—" Tommy nodded slowly, "—so that’s how it is."

Aqua put on a somewhat sullen face—with the corners of his lips slightly down, with eyes staring blankly at the table. The man to his left—Detta—turned toward him. "Why, Aqua?" he asked. "It’s rare to see you with such a sullen face."

Aqua shrugged—slowly. "It’s nothing," he said. "It’s just—" he paused for a moment, "—I hope I can find my older brother."

Detta blinked. "Oh, right—" he said. "Your brother was a member of Leonhard’s group, wasn’t he? If I’m not mistaken—" he paused for a moment, searching for the name, "—the Grim Reaper?"

Aqua nodded—slowly, with his jaw tightening. "Yes. And I will never forgive Leonhard for killing my brother."

Tommy didn’t say anything. He just looked at Aqua for a moment—for a long time, with unreadable eyes—then he turned to Detta. "How about you, Detta?" he asked. "I heard your business is also experiencing some disruption."

Detta raised his eyebrows. "Are you referring to the Ten Gates?"

"Yes."

Detta smiled faintly—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Don’t worry," he said. "That problem has been handled. From my subordinate’s report—" he paused for a moment, "—he has found a fairly competent person."

Tommy nodded slowly. Then he turned to the man on the right—Eron—who had been silent all along. "How about you, Eron?"

Eron lifted his head—slowly, with sharp eyes, with a firm jaw. "We must eliminate all remnants of the Grim Reaper," he said—his voice cold, without emotion. "Because they will become the biggest obstacle for us to move in this country."

Tommy nodded. "As for that—" he leaned his back against the chair, "—don’t worry. From the former president’s report—" he paused for a moment, like he was remembering something funny, "—during that attack, Leonhard couldn’t do much. What we need to be wary of—" he looked at Eron, "—is the man who was with Leonhard. He was able to take out those mercenaries while protecting Leonhard."

Eron furrowed his brow. "What about the other man who helped during the attack?"

Tommy smiled faintly—a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "As for him—" he said, "—I’ve already found his data. He is Raven. One of the Grim Reaper members still active. But he always moves without using his real name."

Eron nodded slowly—but didn’t say anything.

Tommy stood from his chair—slowly, with his hands at his sides, with eyes staring at the four people in front of him. "Now—" he said, "—it’s time for us to move earlier than planned. This country—Black Forest—will become our country of power. So make sure—" he paused for a moment, "—during the presidential inauguration process, there are no disruptors."

All of them nodded in unison. "Yes."

Tommy smiled—a smile wider than before, a smile that made his face look younger. "Because Viel—" he said, "—in the end, will be the one standing above the world."