More than an hour later.
Atlantis City Foreign Affairs Reception.
Moli successfully arranged the Honored Duke Cyril Sack himself and his entourage of servants, coldly walking out of the reception doors with her team closely following.
At this mont, Moli was in a bad mood. During the arrangents, as she had more contact with Cyril Sack, she found that although he seed friendly on the surface, his words were full of hidden tricks and snares, making it hard to guard against—a typical old fox maneuver.
The process of arranging for him only took about an hour, but she had internally flared up at least three tis. If she hadn’t suppressed it, she might have dismantled Cyril Sack’s bones on the spot.
Standing outside the reception doors, Moli’s gaze was icy, clearly her anger hadn’t subsided, and she was extrely displeased.
Her subordinate—Hulk, a stout, burly man, approached and glanced at Moli’s expression, evidently also dissatisfied with Cyril Sack. He looked up at the sky, asking, "Princess, it’ll be dark soon. Should we take advantage of the darkness to sneak in and kill that damned old white-haired guy inside to relieve your anger? After all, this is Atlantis City; it’s our territory. Everyone inside the reception is ours, and the soldiers escorting him were left outside the city, so we’re not afraid of failure."
"Don’t you dare act recklessly!" Moli listened, and annoyed, shot a glare at Hulk, "I’m indeed angry, indeed want to kill him, but this ti is different from that envoy last ti—really killing him would cause huge trouble. So, even if we’re angry, we must bear it. If you dare act on your own, I’ll kill you first, understand?"
Hulk shrugged his neck, nodding obediently, "Yes...understood."
"Princess."
At this mont, Witch Su erged belatedly from the reception doors, called out, walked up to Moli, holding a paper full of words.
Moli glanced at Su, frowned, and asked, "Didn’t I ask you to stay inside and watch Cyril Sack? Why did you co out?"
"I didn’t want this either, Princess." Su shrugged, "But that man inside simply looked down on , thought my skills weren’t worthy enough to ’protect’ him, and kicked out. Of course, he put it nicely, said he was ’sending’ out, just like ’sending’ you out, Princess."
"Then, what’s in your hand?"
"This." Su raised the paper, chuckling sarcastically, "Almost forgot to ntion, although he kicked out, he didn’t forget to send a list along for you. It’s a list of things he thinks our reception needs to improve, hoping we’ll improve quickly—otherwise, it’s very unsuitable for soone of his stature to live here."
"He has a lot of issues. I wonder, if he dies, would he have requirents for his coffin..." Hulk muttered.
Moli glared, and Hulk quickly closed his mouth.
"Princess, should I read out the contents for you?" Su asked beside her.
"Go ahead." Moli responded, expressionless.
"Okay, ahem." Su cleared her throat to read, "Starting with minor things, like the wooden flooring being poor quality and too old, creaks when stepped on, needs replacing. Walls are uneven, with mismatched coatings, moldy sll, should be redone and repainted. Decorations are too cheap, need more precious ones... Then more significant aspects, the garden has too few and too plain plants, lacks a relaxing effect, bedroom is too small, needs expansion... Even larger aspects, the stone slabs in the yard are too smooth, easy to slip..."
Su continued to read.
Moli listened halfway, coldly said, "It seems that this Honored Duke from Shaya doesn’t find a single thing right with our reception arrangent, wants to tear down the entire place and rebuild it."
"Pretty much." Su shrugged, "Actually, I think he’s doing it deliberately, to make us arrange a eting with Lord Richard sooner."
"I can think of that."
"Then Princess, how do we handle his requests?"
"Don’t bother with them." Moli said coldly, "He has too many demands; love it or leave it. Let him stay on hold."
"Really, Princess?" Su blinked, hesitating, "Isn’t this sowhat... disrespectful?"
"Fair point..." Moli pondered for a mont, then said, "We should give face on the surface, but can’t let him truly be satisfied. How about this, fulfill all his requests, but only one per day? For instance, today, change the flooring first, offer various types until he’s satisfied. Until the flooring’s done, keep stalling on other requests, and if asked, tell him our manpower is limited."
"Understood, Princess, I get it."
"Alright, let’s do it." Moli waved her hand, muttering fiercely to herself, "I refuse to believe that in Shalin on my own turf, I can’t outplay him? Looking for trouble with , huh—I think it’s trouble he’s looking for."
With those words, Moli quickly walked away into the distance.
...
In the blink of an eye, days later, July arrived.
Atlantis City Foreign Affairs Reception.
Inside the reception, in a luxurious living room with freshly changed wooden flooring, Cyril Sack was walking back and forth.
After several laps, he paused, and his light blue eyes glanced at the waiting servant nearby.
The servant was a dark-skinned, very strong man. Noticing Cyril Sack’s attention, he hurriedly bent down and assud a listening posture, asking, "Master, is there anything you need to instruct?"
"Ah Ke, has there been any news from Shalin? What arrangents have been made for my eting with Lord Richard?" Cyril Sack asked.
"Master, we urged them again this morning, but... Shalin keeps saying they’re making efforts to arrange, continuing to contact Lord Richard, but won’t give us an exact date, telling us to wait patiently." The servant Ah Ke said.
"Patience?!" Cyril Sack coldly snorted, said in a bad mood, "I’ve been patient enough, just changing the flooring—a small matter like this, has been dragged on for a week, laid down, torn up, and laid again. Did I say anything? But honestly, patience, however good, has limits. I can’t wait indefinitely. Later, go and push Shalin’s people again, let them do everything possible to arrange this eting soon."
"Understood, Master, I’ll hurry and push them." Said servant Ah Ke, who rembered sothing, reminded, "Oh, Master, it’s already noon—how about having lunch first?"
"Alright." Cyril Sack nodded, composed himself, and headed to the dining room connected to the living room.
"Ding-ling!"
Servant Ah Ke pulled a rope hanging in the corner of the dining room; imdiately there was movent outside the door, and a group of servants quickly brought the prepared food to the table.
Cyril Sack sat at the dining table, glanced at the items on it, found that it was just variants like capon, roast bird, stewed at—not fitting his preference for a lighter taste. He frowned, "Didn’t I tell Shalin’s people I dislike these foods, why are they still making them? Are they deaf?"
"Master, their ears aren’t deaf." Ah Ke heard this, showed an embarrassed expression, trucked while explaining, "Master, actually...it’s our own people making it. After you reprimanded a reception chef yesterday afternoon, Shalin removed them, and they didn’t appoint a new one, saying they’re selecting a chef that fits your requirents, which would take so ti."
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