General Dante stared at the clutter of papers on his desk, his jaw tight and a simring anger flickering in his eyes.
The dim office light cast a yellow glow across the docunts, making the shadows stretch long and uneasy.
The muffled noise from outside, the chants, the argunts, and the restless footsteps only agitated him further.
He still couldn’t believe it. Soone had started a vicious rumor in the base claiming that he had hoarded massive amounts of food and that once he beca the military base leader, he would generously distribute one kilogram of rice to every citizen.
Absurd. Malicious. And clearly designed to corner him.
The worst part was that everyone seed ready... no, eager... to believe it.
Citizens marched to his office day after day, righteous fury burning in their eyes.
So demanded he step up and take the position of base leader imdiately, insisting that such generosity made him the only worthy candidate.
Others accused him of being selfish for keeping food to himself rather than contributing to the starving masses.
"Self-righteous traitor," soone had shouted the previous night before hurling a rock at him. That rock was still on his floor.
The scandal had spread like wildfire. Protesters sward the gates.
So even climbed over the fences, ignoring the soldiers’ warnings, just to get close enough to throw stones or scream insults in his face.
At first, Dante bit back his temper and focused on finding the person who had started the rumor.
But soon he realized sothing else, the crowd was behaving strangely. Too unified. Too aggressive. Too bold.
It was as if they had been injected with so kind of stimulant... fear, desperation, madness, or sothing far more intentional.
Every person demanded the sa thing: either he donates food, or he steps down and leaves the base entirely.
"And even then," Dante muttered bitterly, rubbing his temples, "they expect to pay half of everything I own as so kind of righteous sacrifice."
His fingers pressed harder into his skull as the headache pulsed.
’I protect them every day. I shield them with every soldier I have. But sohow, that’s not enough?’
A knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," he said, voice calm but heavy.
General Frank stepped inside, his boots clicking sharply against the floor.
Dante straightened and gestured to the chair. Frank sat without hesitation, his expression annoyingly composed.
"I’m here to make a deal," Frank began. "Since you appear to be in a rather tight position."
Dante narrowed his eyes. "What kind of deal?"
Frank crossed one leg over the other, leaning back leisurely.
"I can beco the base leader. All you need to do is give one-third of your food. I’ll donate it under your na and announce that the rumor was false, that you’ve given everything you can."
Dante’s brows knitted. "Then why not do it without expecting my food?"
Frank chuckled under his breath.
"Because the public isn’t stupid. They’ve seen you. Healthy. Strong. Well-fed. They know you have food. Now they expect righteousness from you. This is your chance to show everyone the kind of leader you are."
Dante’s anger simred dangerously.
"First of all, the food my household has is what my youngest son earned with his own money. I do not have the authority to simply give away what belongs to him. Second," he continued, voice sharpening, "even if I do have food, I cannot just hand it out because others are suffering. My duty is to protect them, and I am doing exactly that."
His hands curled into fists.
"If they are selfish enough to think protection isn’t enough and they want to strip of everything I own as well, then I’m sorry... I am not their parent. I don’t need to pamper this crowd. It’s the military’s job to show their stance and shield instead of folding under pressure."
Frank shook his head slowly.
"You’re not understanding the deeper implications. As long as you cooperate..."
Dante cut him off sharply.
"And even if I decide to donate food, I will do it as the base leader. Why should you take the credit I rightfully earn?"
Frank studied him for a mont.
’Silas... you have truly sharpened your father,’ he thought. Dante’s reasoning was clear, even strategic. But Frank exhaled and leaned forward.
"If you beco the base leader," Frank said calmly, "you will be targeted. Everyone will investigate you. And when they discover that you donated only a third of your supplies while keeping the rest, they’ll turn on you again."
He tapped the desk lightly.
"But if I beco the leader, the public will assu you’ve already given your best effort and that you don’t have much left. Their suspicion will fall on , not on your household."
Dante massaged his temple again, the throbbing headache fresh.
"Do you think I don’t know you’re the one who started these rumors?"
Frank’s smile widened. "I didn’t do it. But if you need a villain in your story, feel free to bla ."
He stood and straightened his uniform.
"It’s your decision now. Donate one-third of your supplies or take the position of base leader and risk the consequences."
Dante finally looked at him, resentnt evident in his eyes.
"Do you think it’s alright to attack my family like this?"
Frank paused, taken aback for the first ti. "I never targeted your family."
Dante let out a cold, humorless laugh.
"Your little move was clearly aid at them. If we don’t hand over the food, people will turn hostile. And that hostility puts my family in danger. You broke the unspoken rule between us."
Frank’s expression hardened, but he forced a composed smile.
"You’re taking this too seriously. As long as you donate the food, your family won’t be hard."
Dante’s eyes flashed dangerously. "I will rember this, Frank. And I will take revenge."
For the first ti, Frank looked unsettled.
He hadn’t expected Dante to be this emotional... this stern.
But the plan had already been set in motion. He had to report back to the Black Vulture’s leader.
So Frank simply straightened his posture, kept his stern persona intact, and walked out of the office, leaving Dante alone with his fury.
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