Forty minutes had passed since the meeting was supposed to begin.
Garfield—the old man who had instructed me to arrive twenty minutes late—was becoming restless. Despite orchestrating the lateness himself, he now acted as though he were the victim of poor timing.
When he began to speak, he nudged my hand to grab my attention. I complied quietly, knowing that refusal would earn his grudge.
As he rambled, I noticed Grace's subtle movements from the corner of my eye. I saw her assistant approach Madam Piao and hand her a document.
A shiver ran through me.
I thought I caught a glare directed at me. Was it from the assistant? Either way, my body tensed, like a coiled snake climbing my spine.
When I blinked to confirm, it was indeed the assistant, Jessie. She smiled politely at Madam Piao before stepping back. My instincts told me something was off.
The old man continued, oblivious to the tension he had created.
.
.
.
The "gum event"—a small slip, like mismanaging the distribution of gum—had demonstrated just how controlled Grace and Jessie were. Even such a minor observation could have led to disaster.
In contrast to the government, my father, and all the others, the Piao family was terrifying in their precision and foresight. But I knew that as long as I didn't provoke them, I could maintain my pitiful act and stay safe.
After that exchange, Grace returned to her hologram tasks. No one else dared move immediately.
I turned my attention to my own hologram, reviewing orders while remaining fully aware of the security measures preventing anyone from seeing another's desk. This was a perfect opportunity to examine government data, even in enemy territory.
My main objective—assigned by the government—was to delay the meeting long enough to explore headquarters and locate the Tree of Knowledge. I studied the instructions carefully, formulating a plan while biding my time.
An hour passed.
Finally, the doors opened.
The twin sisters arrived. Everyone paused, heads turning in acknowledgment. The proposition side and all assistants rose to bow respectfully.
"Deputy Head Angel, welcome," they called.
"Welcome, Young Lady Piao," they repeated.
I analyzed them quickly.
The sister in the military-style uniform was undoubtedly Deputy Head Angel Piao. The other—the renowned genius Angela Piao—wore casual, slightly oversized clothing with cute prints, fluffy pants, and slippers.
In her arms, she carried a small, poofy creature. Curious, I focused on it. Its eyes glimmered with a faint red light. That poofy creature was likely a prototype recording device. Angela's ingenuity and attention to detail were impressive—but potentially dangerous for me.
I remained standing in respect, followed by the civilian representatives. The others on my side begrudgingly rose to acknowledge the young ladies.
I couldn't afford to miss a single detail. Every movement, every expression could hold significance in this room.