Chapter 298 Expound.

Chapter 298: 298 Expound.

"And I think you’d fill the role wonderfully."

Okay, that was an absolute, curveball of a surprise.

I had always harbored a lingering suspicion that Jester wanted me crushed under his heavily polished boot, but to be brought in that close to the top of the food chain?

To be offered the executive suite? There were tens of thousands of registered villains across the globe who would have eagerly butchered their own mothers for that exact corporate opportunity.

In fact, knowing the Order’s HR department, I was pretty sure matricide was actually a formal prerequisite for the job.

"What—" I began, completely thrown off my rhythm.

"And this executive package would, of course," Jester continued smoothly, his digital voice echoing with a raspy, metallic hum, "involve the immediate, highly publicized rescue of your dear Glacia from federal supermax.

"I could hardly let my newly appointed second-in-command’s most able, devastatingly attractive companion rot away in a damp cell.

"And once she was successfully liberated under my official banner, I can absolutely assure you," Jester chuckled, a wet, horrifying sound that made the hairs on my arms stand up, "absolutely no one would ever dare touch her again."

I frowned, my fingers tapping a slow, steady rhythm on the desk.

The psychotic clown was entirely right on that specific point, at least. Jester’s reputation alone would actively make any A-list hero pause and seriously reconsider their life insurance policies before trying to enforce the law against me or Glacia.

But if we explicitly had the full, mobilized backing of the New Order too? We would basically be untouchable by anyone short of the suicidally insane.

But if I actually accepted his offer, it would fundamentally and permanently sink my meticulously built career.

I would be a wanted, tier-one villain in truth. I’d owe him not only my eternal allegiance, but the literal freedom of my entire league.

Especially since if I aggressively breached a federal supermax facility, my heavily armored face would be plastered on every single FBI Most Wanted poster on the planet within an hour, entirely voiding all my carefully crafted legal loopholes.

"A highly generous offer," I said slowly, weighing every single syllable.

Jester laughed again. "Yes. Yes, it truly is, isn’t it? And, needless to say, this specific window of opportunity will not remain open for long. I will expect your formalized answer within exactly five days, and I will expect it delivered in person."

Samuel reached out a pale hand and pressed a recessed stud on the metallic disc.

With a sharp electronic hum, a topographical map of the regional coastline rapidly materialized in the air.

I peered closely at it as a glowing red dot began to rhythmically flicker among the jagged mountain ranges, roughly fifty miles up the coast from the chalet.

"My fun house will be officially deployed at those precise coordinates in five days’ time. I look forward to your highly favorable reply, Polaris. Until then," Jester purred, the glowing feed violently cutting out with a harsh crackle of static.

Samuel smoothly reached out and collected the disk, making it vanish seamlessly into the tailored inner pocket of his suit.

"Do make sure to come by precisely on time," the noir heir said dryly, adjusting his bowler hat. "Father absolutely loathes the unpunctual. It tends to put him in a highly creative, surgical mood."

"I bet it does," I grunted, my eyes narrowing.

He merely shrugged, offered another mocking, theatrical half-bow, and turned on his heel to leave the room.

Sleer lingered just long enough to shoot me a look of pure, unadulterated, murderous hatred before his shadowy form slinked off, sliding across the expensive rug after the heir.

Well, that specific dynamic was probably going to be a massive, violent problem regardless of how I sliced it.

I let out a heavy, shuddering sigh the absolute second the doors clicked shut behind them.

I let the coiled, combat-ready tension aggressively ooze out of my muscles as I collapsed back into the chair, violently rubbing my face with both hands. Fucking hell. What an absolute nightmare of a day.

The door swung open a minute later, and I heard the familiar, soft footsteps of Psyren and Glacia entering the lounge.

They approached the desk slowly, cautiously, looking exactly like two kids tentatively checking in on their dad after he just pulled a grueling, fifteen-hour double shift at the chemical plant.

"Boss?" Psyren asked softly, all the bratty playfulness completely drained from her voice.

"Yes?" I muttered through my fingers.

"You okay?"

I slowly lowered my hands and looked at the pair of absolute beauties standing uncertainly in the doorway.

"Oh, I’m just fucking dandy," I said, my voice dripping with heavy, exhausted sarcasm. "Just received another hostile takeover offer to join the psychotic evil overlord of the free world.

"I just need to completely abandon the highly lucrative corporate career I’ve meticulously built from scratch. Forfeit my operational freedom.

"And go actively work as a glorified henchman for the biggest, most sadistic asshole to walk the earth in the last couple thousand years. Just standard, everyday administrative shit."

Glacia’s eyebrows flicked upward in shock, then immediately plummeted into a fiercely imperious, aristocratic scowl.

She sniffed indignantly, violently crossing her arms just beneath her highly impressive chest.

"I agree completely. It is utterly absurd, sir!" she declared, her voice ringing with icy authority. "There is absolutely no need for a man of your immense caliber to ever serve under him! It would be completely and entirely beneath you!"

"You really think so?" I asked, leaning back.

"Of course! A man with your strategic brilliance and vision? He should be actively begging on his knees to serve under you!"

"Yeah! That’s exactly right!" Psyren chimed in fiercely, her eyes briefly flashing with pink static. "Fuck those creepy Order guys, boss! We don’t need their sketchy-ass umbrella coverage. We can handle our own shit."

I couldn’t help but chuckle at their fierce, blinding loyalty, but I slowly shook my head.

"That’s simply not true, girls. From a purely tactical standpoint, we could actually use their high-level operational help a hell of a lot right now.

"Being officially integrated with the New Order would instantly guarantee that no independent cape or rival rogue gallery ever messed with us again. And it would certainly put you under total, unbreachable protection," I informed Glacia gently.

She visibly winced at the undeniable, pragmatic truth of the statement. "This is regrettably true, sir," she admitted reluctantly, her posture stiffening. "But nonetheless, I must vehemently urge you not to accept his terms. The Order should offer a man of your stature absolutely nothing less than a permanent, voting seat on the Council of Nine!"

That was actually quite flattering, I had to admit. I leaned back further in the heavy chair, resting my cheek thoughtfully in my palm as I eyed the ice queen.

"Is that right?" I mused softly. "And, purely out of academic curiosity, how exactly would one go about legally acquiring a highly coveted seat on this Council of Nine?"

"You truly do not know, sir?" she asked, genuinely surprised.

I shook my head. "I’ve actively tried to steer completely clear of the Order’s political radar for the vast majority of my professional life. So its archaic, internal bureaucratic intricacies are a bit of a mystery to me."

Glacia immediately drew herself up, a fiercely proud smile gracing her pale lips. "Then you are most fortunate that I am here to assist you, sir. I have an absolutely excellent, flawless grasp upon their internal operating bylaws."

I didn’t doubt that for a single second. And I could absolutely use any tactical leverage I could find regarding the Council right now.

"Then please," I said, offering her an inviting, theatrical sweep of my hand. "Expound."