The clock hand swayed to the IXth & Stars sprinkled over the moonless velvet black curtains.
Molten gold river flowed through the dense streets and houses by the grace of white-grey industrial veins, as the gas flickered and ignited within the head-sized glass chambers.
Bathing in its golden lumination, in an opulent private dinner overlooking the city through an open balcony, two people were having a lavish dinner together against the background of an classical music over gramophone.
"Aha, Sir.Victor! If I'd known you were coming, I'd have definitely prepared something more suited for your taste. Hahaha."
"...There is no such need," replied Sir. Victor humbly.
"Please, don't shy away! My manor here in towan has plenty of excellent chefs. As they say— One's favourite is the best fuel for happiness!"
A dirt brown haired man with slicked back silvering hair donned with expensive accessories and silky fabrics, boisterously invited the stoic ordinary looking officer in navy blue seated opposite.
"Mr.Bern, there's no need for such customary, we are but another civil servants of the Empire. Neither a blessed knight nor a miracleblooded aristocrat."
Humbly, he lowered his navy blue cap to chest. Bowing slightly in mannered respect.
"No, no. You misunderstood my intent!"
He spoke in slight embarassment.
"Us tycoons of common origins can only operate and function in high society safely due to the power delegated to public by the previous emperor."
"O But O, the Eternal Sun knows how much those aristocrats hinder our business in the name of charity. Two faced bastards—Ahem!"
Quickly, he caught his crude off tone and continued earnestly with an amiable smile.
"So, as a fellow commoner and as a civil servant of the people who I benefit from, I wished to sincerely extend my gratitude by sharing a delightful dine together. No ulterior motives like those miracle blooded."
He picked up his utensils— A silver knife & Fork, gracefully cutting into the juicy piece of meat and savoring its seasoned flavours in the mouth.
—What meat is this~!
"It's quite well made tonight, they outdid it again!," He praised, while adding two green mint leaves.
"There's nothing better than a conversation over good food! If no favourites, It's only right to enhance what's on the plate already to one's taste."
Heeding the suggestion, Sir.Victor expressionlessly stabbed the leaves with the fork. Decorating his dish with an unusual amount of mint leaves. Leaving him stunned.
'Uh…isn't that too much?! That offsets the flavour ratio!'
His inner food critique was immensely frustrated at the culinary blasphemy occurring in front of him. Unable to hold back his frustration, he gave another suggestion passively.
"Mr.Victor? That's quite enough…don't you agre—?"
"No. I think I'd like to add more, for a stronger taste. My apologies for cutting in."
"A-ah, No worries. Everyone has preferences…"
'Seriously, is something wrong with his taste buds?'
His earlier frustration melted into pity, 'Must be hell to live like that…'
After that, he actively introduced some taste enhancers and food additives in his stocks as they made a few more small talks.
And as the long hand of minutes swayed to the first quarter, he finally addressed the crux of the matter.
"So, Sir.Victor,... may I ask on what occasion did you happen to drop by? I mean It's time for bed."
Wiping his lips with some tissues near, Sir. Victor nodded and calmly elaborated.
"Official business. Just a few rounds of questioning for finalizing testimonies. You may withhold if it involves personal details."
He tensed up, not expecting to be questioned at such late hours. But didn't worry much, for the fact that they had personally visited his manor at night, instead of calling him.
This was a sign of mutual benefits and cooperation. Away from prying eyes.
It's a silent agreement between tycoons and bureaucrats to not dig up dirt, as no giant organisation or business ever truly is white. And imperialists cannot be allowed to consolidate more authority from any internal fallouts.
'Must be something about taxation or some routine surface appearances to appease some aristocrats.'
Afterall, he knew a few aristocrats who hated his guts for overtaking their business ventures. So the bureaucracy has to make some surface appearances now and then to shield him from groundless scandals and accusations.
For Lord's sake —They once accused him of adultery with some street prostitute just because he visited the lower docks of the city where the poor resided!
Goodness, as if I'd ever cheat on his wife!
His conjecture further solidified when Sir. Victor took out a note from his pocket.
'Surface appearances Eh…'
' What a hard working man, to work this late,' Berns thought, silently admiring this quality of Victor.
"According to our intelligence, Mr. Bern. You had secretly visited the lower docks[1] on the 25th of last month and this month. May we be informed why a tycoon such as you needed to personally visit such a shabby space?"
That again…
He touched the crude bracelet on his right wrist, and spoke reminiscently,
"You might've not known, but a decade ago, I was barely middle class, no different from a rabble[2] before rejuvenating my declining family business and moving into this lovely neighbourhood."
"As a young man, I'd at dawn visit the church and attend the early prayer services. Work at one-day pay jobs at toxic factories to barely scrape by. Ah, and the food was horrible..."
"Haha, though my lovely wife and precious daughter may not truly sympathize due to their upbringing. It is the place of my humble beginnings. So as a growing old man, I tend to get nostalgic…as they say - 'An good apple doesn't fall far away from its roots'."
— Scribble Scribble…
Sir. Victor silently scribbled down on his note, listening as he spoke nostalgically. Without commenting he asked the next question right away,
"Furthermore, you were last sighted with a black hooded young female, heading together in a narrow alley. May we ask about your relationship with her?"
—Ba-dump!!!
His poor heart skipped a beat as he hesitated for few heartbeats, before answering boisterously,
"Aha! That…She's a fellow colleague of mine who immensely helped me during my times of great distress."
"And you see, It's quite dangerous for women at the lower docks— thus the cloak. But due to personal reasons she adamantly insist on remaining there, even if I as a longtime friend wished to repay the debt I owe her by moving her out."
He didn't elaborate further, but that was within his right to withhold.
— Hm…Last question.
A smile appeared on his face upon after hearing the murmur of the officer, showcasing a front of full cooperation. As if saying - Ask away!
But unexpectedly, Sir. Victor put down the paper and looked him dead in the eye with an solemn expression.
A strange crystalline glimmer momentarily flickered in his brown eyes like a reflective mirror. It was there one moment, then it was not.
He shifted in his seat, feeling a bit uneasy. Cold sweat on the back of neck particularly sensitive all of a sudden.
He couldn't help but think, 'Why the sudden change in demenor?'
"We found 73 putrefied meatbags of humanoid origins in your hidden warehouse at avenue street 17 lower dock."
He froze in place. 'Excuse me, what?!'
"Which suspiciously coincides with one of the few hundred reported missing identities from lower docks within a span of decade. With an almost guaranteed likelihood of involvement with a Cult delving in Blasphemy."
Victor leaned closer, "Do you confess to your crimes and consent to your scheduled execution, Mr. Bern?"
—!!!
'Those bastards, did they fo—?!'
"Ahaha…Is that supposed to be an joke, Sir. Victor? It's quite shocking indeed…"
He tried to laugh it off. Yet Sir. Victor remained resolute,
"You may choose to believe it has such, I don't have authorisation to repremand, just answer me— Do you consent or not?"
He shot up from his comfy chair, shouting in unconcealed fury and feigned confusion,
"Huh? What kind of joke is this?! I'd not speak further without my lawyer!!!"
Taking a sip from the wine glass, Sir. Victor nodded in an understanding.
"Yes. Every citizen has the right to protest and ask for retrial, including convicted commoners."
"But under supreme imperial mandates regarding Supernatural and Blasphemy And Church of the Luminescent Eternal Sun's Doctrine — Those Rights are of secondary concerns."
Putting the cup aside, he calmly gestured for him to sit back.
"Mr. Bern, Please confess to make our proceeding paper work and investigation in the cult easier."
"You may be able to give your wife an indirect goodbye and delay your execution under the guise of accidental death during a business trip to east."
"Isn't it better to exchange few words with your loved one's then not at all?"
No No No No No
That bitch! Did she betray me?
'It can't end like this! It wouldn't!'
"Show me the evidence! This is one sidedly decided! I'll take this case to the assembly and get you out of your job, Just you wait!"
—Sigh…
— Bad apples are always thrown away before they reach the roots, you know...
"Matters beyond mortal perception are legally under the Supernatural Sector. Not Public. Assembly doesn't cover it unfortunately."
Finding something rather amusing, a rare smile appeared on Sir. Victor's face. As he spoke in a rather hypnotizing voice.
"Mr. Berns, If this case was prioritized by the Church first, then you'd be Principality style crucified in public before an agonizing holy purification by the first daylight Tommorow."
Leaning closer with hands folded together to cradle his chin to rest upon, he wispered,
"We are not just saving your dignity and public image but also your family members…well, a family member."
Distress vanished, and in its place confusion washed in when he heard the last part.
'A family member…?'
"Wa-wait, my wife and daughter! What part do they even have in this?!"
In a mind consumed by rage and paternal instinct, he rushed over to Victor and held him by the cuff of the collar.
"STAY AW—!!"
"To us, it seems that the daughter must be your favourite for you to act like this."
No, don't involve her f*****!
Even when faced front, Victor's unnervingly amiable smile didn't falter. 'He' continued in a gentle tone,
"We are not like the church, we make sure to give those on our execution list the best last meal of their life."
'Victor' paused then pushed forward his plate of unfinished delicious meat, leaves and cuts all intact. It's thick brown juice spreading all over the gold embossed decorated marble plate.
"As you had said before— "One's favourite is the best fuel for happiness!". So we improvised in advance."
A devil whispered in his ears,
"Happy Dining~ :)"
[1] Outskirts
[2] Lower working class