Chapter 86: Cooperation
The pavilion was dead silent.
Cecilia's face alternated between pale and green. The calm, confident deanor she had just displayed, her sense of control—everything seed shattered now.
She had been caught off guard by Ryan’s sudden counterattack, and even more so by his analysis, which directly targeted her greatest secret, causing beads of cold sweat to form on her skin.
This was impossible. A son of the Velt family, whose territory lay in the desolate northern corner of the kingdom, whose father was a nearly exiled, failing viscount—his eighteen years of life had a clear trajectory: Viscount’s land, the capital, the academy—three points in a straight line.
He had never entered the true power circles, had never seen the shadows deep within the royal palace, and aside from the stubborn Duke’s daughter, he had no connections with any families of marquis rank or higher.
What was a normal response when such a young man was faced with a naked offer of mutual benefit from an imperial princess?
It would be to calculate gains and losses, weigh the pros and cons, to either appreciate or fear the favor, or at most, to cautiously probe the true cost of collaboration.
He shouldn’t—he absolutely shouldn’t—have, in the first mont, bypassed all surface-level formalities and directly exposed her deepest, most dangerous secrets, including her thirst for the throne, and the claws that must never be seen in the sunlight.
How did he know?
No, he didn’t know, he had seen it.
From the appearance of the Royal Knights, he inferred they had been executing a foreign mission; from the mission, he inferred that she possessed a hidden, forbidden power; from the hidden power, he deduced her true ambitions...
This kind of reasoning did not require intelligence reports; it was instinctive understanding of the rules of power gas and human nature.
This wasn’t a perspective that an eighteen-year-old boy, trapped in a family and academy quagmire, should have.
But he was only eighteen. The records were correct.
Cecilia felt a chill rise up her spine, mixed with the shock of being completely seen through. She could even feel the fabric on her back, dampened by cold sweat, sticking to her skin, bringing an uncomfortable chill.
She maintained the regal posture of a princess, lifting her chin slightly and straightening her shoulders, as if she still controlled the situation.
But her hands, hidden beneath the luxurious fabric, trembled slightly, betraying her composure.
The only sound in the pavilion was the wind and the heavy breathing of the three people.
Ten heartbeats passed.
Cecilia closed her eyes for a mont. When she opened them again, the turmoil in her gaze had been forcibly suppressed.
She raised her hand and waved it lightly.
"Enough, Ilis." Her voice was hoarse. "Withdraw your mana. Leave."
Ilis turned sharply, her purple eyes filled with disapproval. "Your Highness, he—"
"Leave." Cecilia repeated, her tone unwavering.
The black-haired girl bit her lip, and the purple light at her fingertips abruptly extinguished. She took a half step back, but her body remained taut, like a leopard ready to pounce.
Cecilia took a deep breath, the breath long and slightly shaky.
She turned to Ryan, trying to force a smile, but it only ford a bitter, shallow curve.
"Seems... I miscalculated." She whispered, admitting it plainly. "I apologize for my earlier attitude toward you."
She adjusted her posture, trying to regain her montum, but the invisible pressure she had exerted earlier had almost completely dissipated.
"Then, Ryan Velt," she changed to a more formal title, "what if I were to invite you again, this ti as an equal partner? Not as a subordinate, not as an employee, but as... allies, each with our own needs and goals? What do you think?"
Ryan did not sit down imdiately. He remained standing, looking down at her.
From this angle, he could see a strand of her golden hair slightly out of place and the faint sweat at her temple.
"Then please et my conditions." He said.
"Please speak."
"First, I have the right to refuse anything I don’t want to do. But I will give my all within the scope of my promises."
"Agreed."
"Second, during our collaboration, you must provide with the necessary resources, intelligence, and support to the best of your ability."
"That’s only right."
"Third," Ryan’s gaze sharpened. "You must never endanger my people."
Cecilia paused. "Your people? Your father and the Velt family?"
"No." Ryan answered firmly. "Cosette. My maid."
"As for the people in my family... you need not worry. I have... certain matters to personally settle with them."
Cecilia froze. She looked at Ryan, and Ryan looked back at her.
For a mont, Cecilia seed to understand sothing but did not ask further about the details of these "matters." She only nodded slowly.
"I understand," she said. "I accept your conditions."
There were no more verbal sparring, no complicated bargaining.
An unspoken understanding was quietly ford in that mont, after their intense ntal battle.
Cecilia took out a contract scroll she had prepared earlier, one that was likely very different from what she had originally planned, along with a magic feather pen adorned with tiny sapphires.
She made brief magical adjustnts to the key clauses before sliding it toward Ryan.
Ryan took the pen and quickly scanned it—clear terms, responsibilities defined, no hidden traps, even including wording based on the principle of equal partnership.
He signed his na at the end, and the magical seal flashed with a faint glow. The contract was complete.
She extended her hand again—slender, white, with long fingers, neat nails trimd into soft rounded edges, the faintest pink hue to her skin, smooth and delicate as if untouched by water.
This was not the hand of soone pampered and weak, but one that knew when to hold a pen, when to play chess, and when to... offer an olive branch.
"Then," her voice beca lighter, "I, Cecilia Ishtar, swear in my personal na—rather than any hollow royal title—that we will form an alliance. I will do my utmost to provide you with the resources and protection you need to grow. In turn, when I need it, I hope you will respond to my expectations and stand by my side, not behind ."
Ryan watched her extended hand, paused for a mont, and then reached out to grasp it.
The feel of her hand was cool, delicate, yet it carried an unspoken sense of nobility and distance.
This was the first ti Ryan had formally shaken hands with a woman, as an equal ally, since arriving in this world.
Cosette didn't count—that was family.
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