“Jin Zhou, Sylvia Duval.” He doesn’t blink, not even shedding a hint of worry or joy; just surgical control over his words, his emotions… and everything between them.

  There’s something reptilian in the way his eyes sweep across the couple, slow and calculating, drinking in every twitch of posture and flicker of hesitation. He smiles, but only with his lips.

  And the doors shut behind him, leaving just himself with these two individuals and their associates.

  No guards with him in this room. Sophia notes to herself. Just him, and him alone.

  Zai Tianci uses the formal title, matching that detached, empty tone. “Pleased to finally meet you, Mayor-Prefect.”

  There are no pleasantries beyond the acknowledgement of names, with the man simply shuffling to the nearest chair in silence. “Sit.”

  It’s a greeting disguised as an order. Sophia’s thought cabinet tells her, and she internally chuckles with some incredible confidence derived from deep inside her. We won’t sit because if we do we’re giving in. We’re just gonna stand here, because that’s basically establishing dominance. And this man can’t control any of us.

  But that man sits, keeping his gaze leveled at the two defiant children before him who still remain standing.

  Sophia can’t read him, can’t discern anything from him; just watching as he assembles the weapon of tension within this fifteen by fifteen square foot room.

  And Zai says nothing in return.

  He doesn’t need to.

  He doesn't play the game.

  This Mayor-Prefect is letting it linger, testing who will break first.

  And Sophia Elise doesn’t break.

  A methodology taught to this Fourth Princess finally put to use now, that stupid uncle and manners teacher of hers playing that scowling, staring game for hours until she was this unstoppable monster of raw cope and hope staring right at people’s foreheads.

  Because as long as she doesn't make eye contact, everything is gonna be ok.

  Time is a weight in this room, like gravity thickening between bones and sinew; and even worse the air itself begins to fill with a peculiarly sharp scent of…

  It’s the scent of danger.

  An aura emanating from one single blond haired, blue eyed monster.

  The Mayor-Prefect knows there must be something more to this envoy from beyond the Wailing Fang, it’s in those dead eyes and ice cold scowl, it’s in the way she doesn’t even move, and it’s in the way she breathes in those shallow rises.

  This was something unreadable, unthinkable like a burning fuse reaching to a powder room ready to explode.

  And it was about to detonate right here in his very home.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Then the man speaks, slow and unhurried. “You’ve made quite an impression here in Port Azuru.”

  It’s a statement designed to see how they react. Sophia detects, keeping her breathing steady. It’s a trap that isn’t a trap, just a mirror polished to see if we flinch.

  Zai’s voice is almost amused, but still glacier-cold. “The impression was mutual.”

  Nobody gives ground in these words, nobody plays any cards.

  A flicker of recognition, or maybe strategy, glints in the Mayor-Prefect’s eyes.

  “Rich kid from Yunclair, Jin Zhou,” he says, voice dropping into familiarity with just a little edge. “Your father’s made quite a name for himself.”

  Sophia sees Zai’s tell in the slight tap of his finger, a mind wanting to speak out, wanting to acknowledge that lie with grace but he stops himself right before he does.

  “Congratulations on your… marriage.” This Mayor-Prefect continues, flicking toward Sophia. Like a soldier acknowledging a gun he speaks that cover name. “I hear the Duval family is quite well connected in the Imperium. However it’s sad to see how desperate some of you have become in creating these connections with… our people.”

  Sophia keeps focused on that forehead, unmoving as those words come into her right ear and straight out the left.

  Because we’re used to people calling us by that fake name now~

  The Mayor-Prefect's eyes flash back to the young man. “What are you here for, really? What sort of business are you… attempting to establish in this town?”

  It's the most direct question, and Zai doesn’t answer right away. He just looks at the man, the same way one might look at a room-temperature cup of water downed tea.

  He speaks; low, level, and utterly disinterested. “Is that such a difficult matter for your network to determine? Or have your people been so incompetent as to give you nothing but lies?”

  Goddess that was a good one! Sophia nearly breaks composure, that woman mentally cheering her political marriage husband.

  The Mayor-Prefect leans forward slightly, intimidation dripping from his words. “You’re very calm for someone who’s trespassing in political territory far above his station.”

  There’s a strange sense of nervousness to Zai, a faltering that Sophia tastes from his unnatural stillness and hushed breaths. A lie gone too far, and to this Crown Prince this deception was eating at him from the inside out.

  Is it possible that Zai, our own husband, isn’t good at lying?!

  So this young man doesn’t lie, and plays his hand. “Your dereliction against your duty, your betrayal against the people you govern is very much so within the confines of my civic responsibility. I don’t think that’s too far a reach, is it?”

  The room hangs in it, that one sentence, dropped like a stone into still water.

  An impulsive thought process suddenly leaps up. Oh yeah, now’s the time to back your husband up. Push this hard.

  No! Another thought stops them all. We gotta wait for the right time to drop a bomb. Just let Zai do his thing and we back him up when he really needs it.

  The Mayor-Prefect doesn't blink, but instead smiles.

  It’s that bureaucratic smile: wide, joyless, with teeth and gums and no warmth. A smile made by someone who holds power in the pen, who could sign your life away in an “accident” left conveniently uninvestigated.

  Sophia keeps her gaze on the man’s forehead. We hate that smile alright. What would we give to wipe that away…

  Zai's hands remain folded in front of him, Sophia analyzing his subtle reaction to this development.

  That’s the stillness of a man running through every possible escape route, threat evaluation, and philosophical study. The Fourth Princess finds. It is the stillness of a disguised Crown Prince stuck in a sweaty local government meeting with a man who smells like ink and bad wine.

  It was probably garbage analysis, but it still made her feel smart.

  “That’s a very, very dangerous accusation you’ve just made.” That Mayor-Prefect points out the obvious. “You should take care, you know there are many consequences to such baseless threats, don’t you?”