The World Is Mine For The Taking

"I see..." James replied with that cryptic smile of his.

That smile. I swear, even now, it lingers in my head like a carved brand that refuses to fade away. It wasn't just an ordinary smile... it was sharp and cutting, like the edge of a blade held against the throat. A smile that felt unnatural, wrong, yet perfectly controlled. To anyone else it might've looked harmless, maybe even charming. But to me? It was the kind of grin that reeked of danger. The kind of smile that belonged to someone who would burn the world down if it meant getting what they wanted. It wasn't the smile of a friend, nor even of an enemy—it was the smile of a demon in human skin, testing how much destruction he could cause before anyone dared to stop him.

"Well," he continued, the corner of his lips never faltering, "I guess that sounds really promising. If he's doing good, then I suppose there's no need for me to worry."

The way he said it, though, was anything but comforting. His words carried a casual tone, but behind them there was that low, almost mocking undertone, like he already knew the ending of a story I hadn't even begun reading.

I narrowed my eyes. "You came here to meet me personally… just to say that?"

The question left my lips sharper than I intended. But really—what other reaction could I have? James had dragged me out to this desolate, forgotten part of the Empire. There was no people here at all and there was no witnesses. Only the dry sand that was still hot beneath our feet with the dead wind cutting across the alley, and the silence stretching between us like a taut rope ready to snap. For him to go this far, to choose here of all places, just to ask if the Emperor was fine? That was far too suspicious to brush off.

James tilted his head slightly, as if amused at my skepticism. The moonlight, weak as it was, caught in his dark eyes, making them gleam with something unreadable.

"Well," he said smoothly, his voice carrying just enough weight to feel intentional, "I came here with a warning as well."

His eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, and for a brief moment it felt like the entire place around us quieted further, as if even the air itself was holding its breath. And in that gaze, I caught something—an intensity, a glimmer of knowledge, maybe even danger—that pressed against me like an invisible hand.

"Christopher Faust is planning to come here sometime this summer, am I right?"

I blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Christopher Faust? Ah, you mean the owner of Leonamon. I did hear the officials and ministers talking about that, but I didn't exactly expect to hear it confirmed from the Emperor's own mouth."

James chuckled lightly, but it wasn't out of humor. It was more like a confirmation, like he'd expected my answer.

"Well," he said, "the Emperor doesn't always know the ins and outs of every official's schemes and what they're trying to implement. Christopher Faust isn't coming here for the Emperor, but for the officials. Three of them, to be exact. They're planning to ask him for business opportunities—to expand their own ventures—and more importantly, they want to buy some of the blueprints of the products he's monopolized these past few years."

I felt my brows furrow. "I see…"

The words slipped out quietly, more to myself than to him. My mind wandered, tracing old threads of thought.

There were indeed three businessmen in the Empire who thrived off commerce, who treated the market like their personal battlefield. But when the Leonamon company had erupted into existence, their paths to glory were suddenly blocked with their profits swallowed up by the overwhelming wave of Faust's innovations. Leonamon's sudden boom had crippled their chances to flourish, no matter how much money or influence they threw into the mix.

That desperation had led to underhanded tricks. I'd heard the whispers that thieves slips into Leonamon facilities as well as assassins lurks in the shadows of it with all hoping to uncover the secrets behind their technology. But none of it had worked. Faust's empire was impenetrable. His security was ironclad, built with paranoia and precision, making it nearly impossible to breach.

"Well," I finally said, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, "it's certainly amusing that they're going about this in such roundabout ways. They could've just waited a few more years. Once the Empire strikes the Milham Kingdom, they'd get the items and blueprints easily, after Leonamon was crushed under the imperial army's boot. But no… I suppose those people are far too impatient for that."

James let out a low laugh, one that made my skin prickle. "Being impatient is only natural when it comes to money. That's the very reason business exists at all. If money isn't involved, people don't bother. They won't work, won't build, and won't create. Greed is the fuel, and impatience is the fire."

His words hung in the air, heavy but not untrue. I hated to admit it, but he wasn't wrong. People craved money. Always had. Always would. Everything else—like loyalty, honor, even survival—came second.

"And so?" I asked, my voice cutting through his philosophy. "Why are you telling me this?"

James's smile widened just a fraction, and somehow that tiny change made it far more sinister. He leaned slightly forward, lowering his tone just enough to make the air between us feel suffocating.

"Well," he said, "I think you've been assuming it's perfectly normal for someone like Christopher Faust to step into the limelight like this. But think about it—he's traveling to another country, not to meet its ruler, but its officials. And he's doing this while sitting atop an empire of his own, larger than almost anything else in the world. Doesn't that strike you as suspicious? I can't shake the feeling that there's a hidden agenda here."