Fein knew that Zhong Yan’s status was different now. There were probably less than twenty people in the entire Federation who could stand on equal footing with him, and among his peers, only Adrian could match him. Yet, despite this, Fein couldn’t resist a jab, “Oh, so you still remember you’re his best friend, huh? Didn’t think about that when you stabbed him in the back back then, did you?”

“That’s between him and me. It’s not up to…” Zhong Yan glanced at him, “…an outsider to speak on it.”

“An outsider, sure.” Fein sneered, “Since it’s between the two of you, I bet you didn’t tell him in advance either, did you? You never supported human autonomy. If you’d just spoken up earlier, in first or second year, even third year, he…”

“He’d have immediately moved out of our dorm and cut all ties with me,” Zhong Yan replied calmly. “I don’t need you to tell him; I know him better than you do. And whether before or after my career started, I never publicly expressed any opinion on so-called ‘human autonomy’—pro or con. Where did you get the idea otherwise?”

“At the very least, you should have warned Adrian that if Butterfly ever tried to recruit you, you’d be all too eager to join!”

Zhong Yan remained unmoved, his voice steady, “It was a highly unlikely scenario. I didn’t see the point in bringing it up.”

Fein had to admit, the probability was indeed slim. There were very few positions directly associated with “Butterfly,” and the Supreme Council was at the pinnacle of that pyramid. It had fewer than fifty full members, including assistants and alternate members, barely numbering over a hundred. In this era, where the average human lifespan had exceeded a century, it wasn’t unusual for someone to work into their eighties or even nineties. The Supreme Council saw new members only infrequently, and even then, they typically came from lower councils. For a graduating student to be appointed directly to the Supreme Council was incredibly rare, even at the talent-filled Highest Academy.

In his final, busy half-year, Zhong Yan had pondered this almost every night before falling asleep. With his record, his position would undoubtedly be significant, likely neutral enough not to clash with Adrian’s ideals. Adrian wasn’t so extreme as to force everyone around him to make bold declarations of loyalty; he might be disappointed in Zhong Yan’s lack of support, but Zhong Yan could apologize later and remedy the situation.

But if things went south and the dart landed squarely on that tiniest slice of fate…

“Well, that tiny probability did happen.” Fein snapped. “This whole situation is on you. If you’d prepared him in advance, things wouldn’t be this bad. He might’ve just distanced himself from you.”

“You call that ‘not so bad’?”

No, to Zhong Yan, that outcome was the worst. The idea of Adrian no longer paying attention to him—it was a hundred times worse than things now. Just yesterday, when he’d finally seen Adrian again, and Adrian had ignored him and brushed right past him—it terrified him. It was even scarier than seven years ago when he’d frantically tried to contact Adrian, only to find himself blocked on every channel. The thought that, after all this time, Adrian might have let go and was ready to put his hatred aside shook him to his core. Fortunately, that indifference was just an act; Adrian still hated him, with teeth-grinding fury.

With this thought, Zhong Yan almost felt grateful for his decision back then. At least—

“At least he still hates me,” he murmured.

Since there was no chance for reconciliation now, let him hate. Adrian was the first, and only, person in his life who truly cared about him. If they couldn’t be friends, then even as enemies, he couldn’t bear to lose Adrian’s attention.

Zhong Yan signaled his people to open the door, and Fein drove straight into his spacecraft’s parking bay, where a young man was waiting.

Though the young man wore a suit, he looked more like a student attending a defense meeting, with short, tousled brown hair, black-rimmed glasses, and an air of scholarly gentleness.

Fein nearly lost control when he saw the young man’s face, his hand slipping on the console, narrowly avoiding a collision.

He felt Zhong Yan’s gaze shift toward him.

“What kind of design is this parking lot, anyway?” Fein grumbled, “The mirror’s reflection! I mean—the rearview mirror’s reflection!”

Zhong Yan’s eyes scanned the parking bay, pausing briefly on the only other person present—his assistant—before asking, “What’s got you so nervous?”

“We nearly hit that car right next to us! Didn’t you see? Are you just not worried at all? If anything happened to you in my car, the news headlines would read ‘High-Ranking Officer from the Navi Military District Assassinated Supreme Council Member’ within ten minutes. How can I not be nervous?”

The young assistant, seeing the car come to a stop, opened Zhong Yan’s door and nodded to Fein, offering a polite greeting. “Deputy Officer Xyster, thank you for coming personally. Please convey our gratitude to Commander Atte for his assistance with Council Member Zhong last night.”

Fein laughed, waving it off, “No problem… though I do wonder, don’t you guys ever get tired of this formal speech in the Council?” He caught the young assistant’s gaze for a split second before both quickly looked away. Turning back to Zhong Yan, Fein asked, “Zhong Yan, whose kid is this? Is he even of age?”

The young man’s polite smile faded, and before Zhong Yan could reply, he said indignantly, “I’m twenty-four, Deputy Officer Xyster. I’ve been of age for four years.”

It seemed he had more to say, but Zhong Yan interrupted with a mild, “Intelune.”

Intelune lowered his head and fell silent respectfully.

Zhong Yan gave a dismissive nod to Fein, “See you around.”

“Don’t count on it.” Fein muttered, engaging the car’s controls as he left.

“Why is it you?” Zhong Yan asked casually as he walked to his office. “Where’s Byer?”

Since this event was hosted by the Highest Academy, many attendees had brought along their own trusted associates who were also alumni. Zhong Yan had chosen two of his close subordinates from the Academy—Byer and Intelune.

Byer was Zhong Yan’s first assistant, and Intelune, who had only recently joined the Supreme Council due to a stroke of luck, was indeed fortunate. Although he started with a minor position under the Council’s most recently appointed member, it was still a position that left his peers in awe.

“Byer isn’t feeling well,” Intelune explained deferentially. “It’s his stomach acting up again, so I came to fetch you. Also, there’s a message from Capital Star; he asked me to relay the details.”

Zhong Yan pulled out his chair, took a seat at his desk, and opened his virtual screen. “Got it. After we’re done, have the doctor take a look at him and tell him to rest more. Begin.”

Intelune hesitated briefly before beginning, “It’s like this; with the end of the year approaching, both the Navi District Sub-council and the Navi Military District have…uh, sent no updates. Now, as we approach year’s end…”

It was a delicate understatement. The Navi District had been unresponsive for months, offering minimal information in their usual reports, with yearly summaries barely scraping by at eight pages. This was unprecedented, considering that the region didn’t fall under Butterfly’s oversight and should be providing more comprehensive information. Last year, they’d been vague, while this year, nothing had come through at all.

Things had come to a head when the Supreme Council’s envoy had been blocked from entry to the Navi system entirely. The Council’s growing frustration had brought forth a proposal to enforce entry, which reached the Round Table of seated council members. But the “AI Incident” anniversary had divided their focus, and fear of public backlash made them hesitate. No one knew the current situation inside Navi’s tightly guarded borders.

“We need a resolution on this by year’s end,” Zhong Yan remarked.

With his fingers interlocked, his expression remained unreadable. After a moment, he directed, “Inform the cockpit to set a course for immediate return. Relay to Capital Star that I propose resuming the Butterfly Entry Plan for Navi, shelved seven years ago. I recommend we break the stalemate and enter the Navi District by the year’s end. We’ll discuss further at the next Round Table. Send it.”

Intelune looked taken aback, “Sir, is this…wise? Considering the Navi District, don’t you have any…conflict of interest?”

Zhong Yan raised an eyebrow. “Conflict? Because the Navi Military Commander hates me and people fear I’ll retaliate, or because now he’s my ‘perfect match,’ and they’re worried I’ll take advantage?”

Intelune fumbled, “I heard…rumors lean toward the latter. Given your current status, rejecting such an arrangement is hard; the Council…”

“They’re overthinking,” Zhong Yan said, dismissively. “The Navi Commander despises me enough to pay the cancellation fee fivefold rather than be tied to me. This marriage won’t happen; there’s no conflict of interest. Send the message as I instructed.”

The moment Fein left the ship’s monitoring range, he immediately called Adrian.

After a few attempts, Adrian finally picked up, “This better be important. I’m in the middle of a meeting with the liaison officer…”

“Forget the liaison officer! This is bigger!” Fein said urgently. “Do you know who I just saw on Zhong Yan’s private ship? The guy I met with yesterday at the academy—the ‘specimen’ guy!”