Some time after the meeting had concluded, the room had not emptied all at once, but in careful stages, as if even departure required structure.
A few individuals remained at first, quietly gathering their belongings, organizing documents, and exchanging brief, restrained words, but most, if not all, had already begun to leave under guided order.
The opposition was dismissed first.
Not as a courtesy, but as a precaution.
They were given time and space to exit the premises so that they would not cross paths with the proposition and risk unnecessary confrontation.
After them, the lottery winners were escorted out through separate routes, their presence handled with the same deliberate care that had marked their arrival.
Only after a measured interval had passed did the proposition begin to leave the room.
Even then, it was not rushed.
It never was.
By the time the process had nearly completed, the once tense and crowded meeting space had become—
not entirely empty—
but quiet enough to feel deserted.
Grace Piao remained seated at the head of the table.
Her fingers pressed lightly against her temple as she exhaled, the tension from earlier still lingering in the subtle lines of her expression.
Another sigh followed.
Then another.
Jessie, standing nearby, stepped forward without drawing attention to herself and quietly refilled Grace's cup with tea.
Grace's hand paused at the motion before lowering slightly, acknowledging the gesture without words as she reached for the cup.
She lifted it to her lips and took a slow sip.
"…Chamomile tea," Grace said after a moment, her voice softer than before. "This is different from the rosemary tea you gave me previously. Why is that?"
"You seemed to be having a headache," Jessie replied calmly.
Grace exhaled once more, though this time there was a faint shift in it.
"That is very thoughtful of you."
She took another sip.
When Grace sighed again, Jessie did not step away as she normally would.
Instead, she stepped closer and positioned herself just behind Grace's chair.
Her fingers rested gently against Grace's forehead, while her thumbs settled at the points between her temples and the edges of her brow, just before the hairline.
With practiced precision, she began to apply pressure in slow, controlled motions, moving her thumbs in a steady rhythm, first clockwise, then counterclockwise.
At the start, the pressure was light, almost testing.
But gradually, it deepened.
Not harshly, but with enough intent to reach beneath the surface tension.
Grace did not resist.
The subtle strain in her expression began to ease, little by little, as the motion continued.
The headache that had lingered since the meeting slowly receded, retreating under the consistency of Jessie's hands.
Grace remained still, the teacup resting in her hand as she continued to sip from it between breaths.
Footsteps approached.
Measured.
Respectful.
Another assistant stepped forward, stopping at an appropriate distance from the table before presenting a set of documents.
"These are the compiled reports," the assistant said. "They include a detailed summary of the discussion, as well as recorded impressions of audience reactions during each speaker's statements."
Grace accepted the documents without looking up.
The assistant lingered.
Grace spoke.
"What is the matter?"
Her tone was succinct, direct, and without distraction.
The assistant straightened slightly before continuing.
"For the opposition and the lottery winners who will be staying within headquarters for the duration of this meeting period, which areas are they permitted to access freely, and which areas should be designated as restricted to prevent boundary violations?"
For a brief moment, Grace's hand lifted instinctively toward her temple, as if the question itself had threatened to bring the headache back.
But before she could respond—
Jessie answered.
"Follow Procedure 29850," Jessie said calmly, her hands never breaking rhythm. "Under Sub-Act 521, with respect to the information flow adjustments provided by the A-Line system. Apply the UI floor plan protocol under the public-use subdivision."
The assistant immediately bowed.
"Understood. Thank you."
There was no hesitation after that.
The assistant turned and left promptly, already preparing to implement the necessary system updates.
Grace's hand remained suspended in mid-air for a brief moment, as if uncertain whether it should complete the motion it had started or simply return to rest.
After a second, it lowered.
Her gaze shifted back to the documents in front of her.
Before opening them, she spoke.
"Good work, Jessie," Grace said. "You seem to grow more capable by the day."
"You are too kind, my lady," Jessie replied, continuing the steady massage without pause.
Grace allowed herself a final, quieter exhale as the last traces of tension faded.
Then, with her teacup still in hand, she lowered her gaze fully and began to read.
The reports detailed the most important exchanges from the meeting, highlighting key arguments, rebuttals, and the subtle shifts in audience perception during each speaker's turn.
Every reaction.
Every pause.
Every moment of hesitation or agreement.
All of it laid out for analysis.
Grace read carefully, her expression settling back into its usual composure as she reviewed how the debate had been received, already considering what would need to be addressed before the next meeting—
for both the opposition and the proposition.