“Pulcinella!
You son of a bitch!
So many children have gone missing in the Winter Capital, and you still have the nerve to be Mayor?!” “If it weren’t for reading The Steambird, we’d still be in the dark!” “My neighbor’s young daughter went missing a few years ago, and there’s still no word!” “It’s all your fault, you bastard!” “…” In front of the gates of City Hall, hundreds of citizens, incited by some, protested fiercely, hurling all sorts of verbal abuse at Pulcinella, the Mayor responsible for the Winter Capital’s security.
The catalyst for everything was that novel published in The Steambird—”the disappearing her.” Many citizens worried their children would suddenly disappear and become materials for human experimentation.
It was precisely this anxiety that allowed the protest to take shape within just a few hours and grow continuously like a rolling snowball.
By afternoon, City Hall was actually surrounded so tightly by the crowd that not even a drop of water could trickle through.
At this moment, inside the Mayor’s office, Pulcinella sat behind his large desk, his brow furrowed, his expression gloomy and frustrated.
It didn’t take much thought to know that “the disappearing her” was definitely the work of Alex.
He intended to use the social pressure of public opinion to abolish those cruel human experiments.
The method was very clever.
Unfortunately, he was too naive.
The citizens’ dissatisfaction and indignation were not enough to make the Fatui give up on human experimentation.
After a brief moment of thought, he dialed the fixed communicator on his desk and respectfully reported the matter to The Jester Pierro.
Of course, he didn’t give Alex away.
That guy had his seal; if he rashly betrayed him, it would likely backfire.
On the other end of the communicator, Pierro listened, remained silent for a long time, and then asked calmly, “Have over fifteen hundred children really gone missing in the past year?” “The exact number…
only Master Dottore knows,” Pulcinella answered cautiously.
Silence followed his words.
Pulcinella waited patiently.
Finally, Pierro gave the order: “The number is a bit high; do not let the Tsaritsa know.
As for the rest, deal with it as you see fit!” Pulcinella wasn’t surprised by this outcome at all.
This “Jester” who walked steadfastly in the darkness would never be swayed by the life and death of ordinary people.
His only concern was that the Tsaritsa’s noble ideals might be tainted.
After hanging up the communicator, Pulcinella thought for a moment and stood up to walk out of the office.
Crossing a corridor, he stepped out to the front gate.
The moment he appeared, the crowd in front of him immediately grew agitated, and various sharp, piercing voices rang out.
However, Pulcinella did not offer any defense.
A look of deep sorrow appeared on his face, his eyes reddened, and even a faint, crystalline tear glimmered.
“I’m sorry…
I’ve disappointed everyone.
But please trust City Hall; we will certainly give everyone an answer.” Before his voice had even faded, he bowed deeply, his back curving into a humble arc.
In an instant, the scene fell silent.
No one could bring themselves to blame this “grieving” old man anymore.
Before long, the crowd began to disperse one after another.
A massive storm was thus temporarily calmed.
As long as it was delayed for a while longer, the heat of public opinion would cool, and anger would eventually return to silence.
…
Fatui Headquarters, The Jester’s Office.
Dim light shone diagonally into the room, adding a layer of gloom to this grim space.
Pierro sat behind the desk, his gaze like a knife, coldly sweeping over Dottore standing before him: “Are the numbers mentioned in the newspaper true?” “Of course not,” a cold smile appeared on Dottore’s face.
“However, if you support it, there could be that many.” Pierro frowned slightly and continued to ask, “What is the exact number?” Dottore recalled for a moment and gave a precise number: “Five hundred and thirty-one.” Hearing this number, Pierro’s brow furrowed even deeper.
Although it was two-thirds less than what the newspaper claimed, it was still appalling.
“So many experimental materials consumed, yet your results are not satisfactory.” His cold voice carried a clear hint of dissatisfaction.
“The Jester Pierro,” Dottore said calmly, “as long as you continue to support my experiments, one day, they will satisfy you.” Pierro just gave him a faint glance, his tone indifferent: “I want results, not promises.” Hearing this, Dottore stopped defending himself.
The other was willing to support him because his results could strengthen the power of the Fatui.
If there were no results for a long time, this support would quickly vanish.
But the problem was—results could never be achieved without a large number of “trials” using living humans as fuel.
After a moment of silence, Pierro spoke calmly: “From today on, transactions with Northland Bank are temporarily suspended.” A faint smile appeared on Dottore’s face.
“Yes, The Jester.” Then, he took his leave.
The moment he stepped out of the headquarters’ gates, Dottore clenched his fists, his face as dark as water.
The suspension of transactions with Northland Bank meant that the number of experimental materials would be significantly reduced.
For him, this was unacceptable.
Alex…
Dottore silently recited the name in his heart.
However, after only a few steps, he suddenly loosened his grip, his expression returning to normal, and a faint, subtle curl even appeared at the corner of his mouth.
In a while, the human experiments will be running just as before.
That young man who’s risking everything—the expression on his face will surely be quite spectacular.
…
The night was deep, and the entire Winter Capital sank into silence.
Orange light spilled across the desk where Alex sat quietly, his brow slightly furrowed as he repeatedly deduced every detail of the plan.
Being an enemy of that insidious Harbinger, every step was like walking on thin ice; there could be no mistakes.
Just then— “Bang!” A loud bang erupted, and the door that had just been repaired yesterday was once again kicked into pieces by a fair and slender leg.
“Lady Rosalyne.” Alex stood up unhurriedly from his chair and turned to look at the familiar figure at the door.
“You don’t have to be so violent.
You can do whatever you want to me.
I won’t run, and I won’t resist.” Before he could finish, Rosalyne’s gaze sharpened, and anger immediately flared in her eyes.
She stepped forward and unceremoniously raised her foot, kicking him to the ground.
This brat…
actually dared to flirt with her to her face!