Chương 337: 144.Folding Chair Meeting 1

Not the oh, how frightening kind of frightening. More the if you say one wrong word right now, she might help you draft your last words first, then fold you up neater than any of these chairs kind of frightening. I added a private, deeply uncharitable note to myself:... No wonder she's an Imperial Princess's personal lady's maid. The hiring criteria for that position probably isn't whether you know how to make tea. It's whether you know how to dispose of a body. Maki didn't bother with pleasantries.

Not a single beat of preamble. The door closed, and Maki went straight for it.

"You say you're the Third Princess." She stayed standing. Didn't sit. I'd bet anything it wasn't because she couldn't find a chair she liked. It was because if Maki sat down right now, she'd lose half her edge. She let the pause run for exactly one beat, then dropped the second half.

"What brings an Imperial Princess all the way out here?" Hedwig, upon hearing this, actually smiled. Not a warm smile. A professional one. The kind of expression that looks like it was trained into her from childhood — a standard face to place over whatever she was actually thinking, whenever it became necessary.

"I am a Special Mediation Ambassador." Maki's eyebrow didn't move.

"Mediating what?"

"I'm afraid," Hedwig said, her tone perfectly even, "you're not cleared to know that." The room went quiet for a beat. I heard Jess draw a soft breath beside me. Not surprise. The kind of breath that means: oh, oh, oh — that one landed clean, I like it. Maki's expression didn't change. But I saw it. The corner of Maki's eye. A barely-there twitch. That was rare. Rare enough that I wanted to put up a commemorative plaque on the spot: Captain Maki Kushima.

On this day, slapped clean across the face with a single sentence. Has yet to strangle the offender. Maki continued.

"Is the mediation directed at the Federation, or something internal to the Empire?" Hedwig didn't even pause.

"You're not cleared to know that." Maki tried again.

"The subject transferred aboard the Fujimaru — was it you yourself, or a piece of information or material you were carrying?" Same answer.

"You're not cleared to know that." Third time.

"The three Imperial destroyers that pursued the Fujimaru — whose orders were they acting on?" Hedwig finally paused. A pause. Brief enough to be a trick of the light. Then she looked at Maki, and said it again, just as calmly:"You're not cleared to know that." Right. This had stopped being a conversation. She was using diplomatic language as a blunt instrument, bringing it down on Maki's forehead one measured stroke at a time, each blow carrying the same message: you don't rank high enough for this.

I turned to look at Maki. Maki said nothing. But I saw it — the corner of her eye twitched again. Second time. A strange feeling crept over me, suddenly. These two were actually very similar. Neither of them was the type to win anything by raising her voice. Neither of them wore her emotions anywhere visible. But that was exactly the problem. If they were just similar, that wouldn't be frightening.

What made it frightening was that behind these two people stood completely different systems — systems that were, in fact, directly opposed to each other. Maki measured the world by conglomerates, the military, responsibility, and practical operations. Hedwig measured it by royalty, diplomacy, order, and the state. One ruler: Federal standard. One ruler: Imperial specifications.

And now someone had shoved both rulers into the same room, and set them down on opposite sides of a warehouse table that looked like it might give up the ghost at any moment. Just imagining how they were about to start measuring each other was enough to make my scalp prickle. So I made a very reasonable, very mature, very survival-oriented decision.

I pretended the tea that didn't exist on the table was getting cold, and began to rise from my chair with the full intention of performing oh, so sorry, let me go fetch everyone a fresh cup — I'll be right back, don't mind me, I definitely won't be gone forever. My backside had barely cleared the seat by an inch —"Shimo." Maki didn't turn her head.

"Sit down." Me: "..." Fine. Apparently there was no escaping this. I sat back down, obediently. The folding chair let out a soft, metallic groan — quiet, but in that particular moment, thoroughly humiliating. Across from me, Hedwig's eyes narrowed slightly. Oh no. I was already starting to read that expression. She was doing it again. Not just looking — appraising.

Like she was running calculations in her head: my conversational dynamic with Maki, the distance between us, the timing of the interruption, and the precise quality of my failed attempt to escape followed by being hauled back. She looked at me. Then at Maki. And then, on that face — the kind of face beautiful enough to make you actively resent acknowledging it — a very faint smile surfaced.

"The way you two interact," she said.

"Interesting." A chill moved down my spine instantly. Not because those words were frightening in themselves. It was because when someone like her started finding an interaction interesting, it usually meant she'd already stopped looking at the surface. And I had a very strong, very unwelcome, and very accurate premonition that whatever Hedwig said next was not going to do me any favors. I quietly lit an invisible candle for myself. Then thought, very seriously:... Ash.

Is it too late to request a transfer back into the Zero and go resume trading shots with the Imperial Navy?

"The way you two interact," she said.

"Interesting." A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. A chill moved down my spine. Here it comes. When someone like her starts taking an interest in how people "interact," it usually means she's about to stop working the surface of the conversation and start prying at the bones underneath. Maki didn't take the bait. She just rested her hand lightly on the back of the folding chair, knuckles as steady as if they were nailed there.

"Your Highness," Maki said.

"If you've come to admire the interpersonal dynamics of the Yukikaze, I suggest you pick a different venue. We don't charge admission here, but we do collect bodies fairly regularly." Jess let out a low pfft beside me. I suspected she was mentally pairing this negotiation with popcorn, and was only one step away from actually pulling a bag out. Hedwig didn't get angry. If anything, she seemed amused. Her gaze moved slowly from Maki's face, to mine, and then back to Maki.

"Executive Officer, you are very protective of her."

"I protect the ship's assets," Maki said without blinking.

"Including the underage assets who have a habit of walking in front of gun barrels to correct other people's tactical errors."

"Hey," I protested immediately.

"Sit still," Maki said.

"You see," Hedwig said mildly.

"Very interesting." Her tone was so flat I wanted to fold up my chair and use it as a shield. Because I could hear it. She wasn't making small talk. She was confirming. Confirming who made the calls on the Yukikaze. Who represented the visible order. And who was the small rock rolling around on the side — the one that might suddenly pop out and smash someone's toe, but was unexpectedly useful. Unfortunately, that rock was probably me. Hedwig finally took a step forward.

It was a light step, but it felt as if she had rearranged all the air in the warehouse.

"Since the Executive Officer is so direct, I will save us some time." She looked at Maki, and when she spoke, she used that same infuriatingly calm tone.

"Who on this ship is truly capable of making a decision?" First cut. I almost whistled. Not because it was aggressive, but because it was incredibly precise. She didn't waste an ounce of energy on the branches; her very first sentence drove straight for the center. Maki didn't retreat.

"You are on the Yukikaze, Your Highness," she said.

"Not in the Imperial Foreign Ministry, and not in a Royal audience chamber. The first rule here is: you don't get to ask all the questions." The corner of Hedwig's mouth moved faintly. It didn't look like a smile. It looked more like she was making a mental note.

"Which is to say, you do not intend to answer."

"Which is to say," Maki pushed her exact sentence structure right back at her, "until you prove you are worth the risk to the Yukikaze, you're not cleared to know that." I almost clapped on the spot. Beautiful. And beautiful in a distinctly Maki way — no raising her voice, no throwing tough words around, no slamming the table. Just picking up the exact same knife the other person had used, wiping it off, and sliding it right back between their ribs. That trace of calm in Hedwig's eyes finally wavered slightly.

Not confusion. Acknowledgement. Acknowledging that the Federal Executive Officer standing in front of her wasn't the kind of person who only knew how to recite bureaucratic script. Then she asked her second question.

"Is the Acting Captain, then, worth my time to speak to directly?" Second cut. This time, Maki didn't even pause.

"That depends on whether you are worth him wasting his time." Jess finally lost it. She turned her head away, her shoulders shaking suspiciously. I swear, if she wasn't afraid Maki would throw her out of the room along with the Imperial retinue, she would have laughed out loud. Hedwig ignored Jess. Her third question came even faster.

"Does the Federation truly understand what you took off the Fujimaru?" This time she didn't say "who." She said "what." Alright. This woman was sick. And it was the high-class, politically valuable kind of sick that simultaneously managed to spike the blood pressure of everyone around her. The warehouse went quiet for a beat. The wire in my chest pulled tight. Because I understood. She wasn't being cryptic. She was reminding us: You didn't just pull a person aboard. It was a status. It was a risk.

It was intelligence. It was something that, handled wrong, would cost the Federation, the Empire, the border fleet, and our miserable little destroyer a lot of sleep. Maki didn't answer immediately. She looked at Hedwig, her gaze steady and heavy.

"We don't," Maki said.

"Which is why I am sitting here asking you." Hedwig lifted her chin slightly.

"And I have already given you my answer."

"No, Your Highness." Maki's tone was even flatter than hers.

"You didn't give an answer. You gave a posture." Oh. That one was brutal too. My scalp was starting to heat up just listening to them. These two weren't having a conversation. They were taking the machinery of state and professional military ethics, and using them to measure each other's faces across a warehouse table. Hedwig's personal maid hadn't said a single word the entire time. But I couldn't shake the feeling she was constantly watching everyone's hands. Not their faces, not their expressions. Their hands.

Who would move first. Who would draw. Who was holding back. Who was shaking. That kind of person is the worst. Because she didn't look like she was listening; she looked like she was deciding whose neck to snap first. I shifted my gaze away. Honestly, I didn't want to make eye contact with her. Not out of fear. Out of a desire to avoid trouble. Those psycho drill instructors at boot camp at least beat you half to death before teaching you how to survive. This maid looked like she'd skip the teaching phase entirely.

Maki took her hand off the back of the folding chair and finally sat down. It wasn't a concession. It was more like she had decided: Fine. Let's begin the formal rounds.

"Your Highness. Now it is my turn to ask." Hedwig sat down as well, her movements as elegant as if this weren't a warehouse, but a royal conference room cobbled together from warship plating.

"Please."

"First, you refuse to explain the nature of your mission. Second, you refuse to identify who ordered the Imperial destroyers. Third, you demand that the Yukikaze provide you with asylum, protection, and secrecy." Maki paused.

"What makes you think you have the right to demand we bear all of that for you?" Hedwig didn't answer right away. She smoothed the edge of her glove first. The movement was small, but inexplicably infuriating. It meant that even while being interrogated, she still had the bandwidth to adjust her appearance.

"Because you already have," she said. I froze. Maki didn't move. Hedwig's voice remained perfectly steady.

"From the moment the Yukikaze intervened in the firefight, destroyed the Imperial destroyers, received the Fujimaru's crew, scuttled the ship, and brought me aboard, you ceased to be bystanders." She looked at Maki, and added flatly:"Executive Officer. This is not a question of 'whether you will bear it.' It is a question of how far you have already borne it." Dammit. I didn't want to admit it, but she was right. She was entirely too right.

Because the second we opened fire, the second we took custody, the second we erased the Fujimaru, the Yukikaze upgraded itself from passing Federal ship to living evidence and potential target for elimination. Maki, of course, knew this too. So she merely said, very lightly:"Then all the more reason to know exactly who we've taken this trouble on for." Hedwig looked at her, not giving an inch.

"A diplomatic envoy."

"Not enough."

"An Imperial Princess."

"Still not enough."

"A key figure whose disappearance here would immediately deteriorate the border situation."

"Getting warmer," Maki said. The room went quiet again. Sitting on the sidelines, I suddenly felt a profound sense of absurdity. These two really were alike. Neither accepted emotional answers. Neither cared about pageantry. Neither believed in surface rhetoric. Both would strip a sentence down to its bones and ask: So which part is actually useful? If those two had been born on the same ship, that ship would probably be formidable. And there'd probably be someone trying to jump out the airlock every single day.

Just as I started mentally reserving beds in the Yukikaze's medbay for the foreseeable future, Hedwig suddenly turned her gaze to me. Without any warning at all.

"Hoshino Shimo." My back stiffened.

"... What?" Maki shot me a sideways glance. That look basically meant: Could you try to answer like a soldier? No. At least, not right now. Hedwig looked at me, her eyes as fine and calculating as a blade on a scale.

"In the hangar bay. You were the one who spoke that sentence first."

"Which one?""'If they were going for a sneak attack, you'd all be dead right now.'"... Oh. That one.

"And?"

"And so I want to confirm something," Hedwig said.

"Are you merely an underage crew member with a quick mouth, or someone with the standing to offer tactical judgments on the field?" I almost jumped out of my chair. What kind of question was that? On the surface, she was asking me. In reality, she was asking Maki: Did you bring her in here because she's useful, or just because you're playing favorites? Vicious. Incredibly vicious. I finally understood why she'd been watching my interactions with Maki earlier. She didn't just find it interesting.

She was confirming whether I was a problem child being shielded by the XO, or an anomaly cleared to intervene in the decision-making chain. Before Maki could speak, I beat her to it.

"I'm not a crew member. I'm a pilot." Maki frowned.

"Shimo—""I know." I raised a hand to stop her, keeping my eyes on Hedwig.

"Underage, quick mouth, occasionally unprofessional — I admit all of that. But what I said in the hangar wasn't just me talking. I arrived half a beat later than Sergeant Takenaka, but I saw half a beat faster than he did that your people never intended to make a move." Hedwig said nothing. I don't know what got into me. That stubborn fire flared up, and my mouth just kept running on its own.

"Also, you said earlier that you thought the Federal military was mostly people who didn't use their brains." I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to look relaxed.

"Funny thing. I always assumed Imperial Princesses mostly just stood inside paintings — looking very expensive, very troublesome, and generally having very little practical use." Jess actually choked this time. She turned away, coughing like she was going to laugh up a lung. Maki's brow twitched. The maid looked up and made eye contact with me for the first time.

In that instant, I was absolutely certain that if we weren't on the Yukikaze, she would have already folded me up, chair included, and shoved me into a corner of the warehouse. But Hedwig just looked at me. She looked at me for a few seconds. And then, she actually laughed. Not that professional, paper-thin smile from before. A real, brief laugh. Short. And very faint. But somehow, that single laugh was more terrifying than all her earlier sarcasm combined.

"Good," she said. I blinked.

"What's good?"

"At least someone on this ship still dares to speak to me like a normal person, even after knowing who I am." I opened my mouth, momentarily unsure whether to hit back with normal people don't get praised by you like that or is your understanding of "normal people" slightly broken? Maki stepped back in and took control.

"Your Highness, if you're only here to conduct personality tests on the Yukikaze's crew, I suggest you mail us a questionnaire next time."

"No." Hedwig tucked away that momentary smile, returning to her cold, flat demeanor.

"I was confirming who in this room would be capable of understanding what I say next." The room went completely still. Even Jess stopped laughing. The bad feeling in my gut upgraded instantly from a light shower to a severe storm warning. Maki watched her.

"You're finally going to speak?"

"A part of it," Hedwig said.

"Which part?" Hedwig's gaze swept slowly from Maki, to me, and then to Jess, before she seemed to make a decision.

"Those three Imperial destroyers were not conducting a border inspection. Nor were they intercepting a standard protection transfer." Her tone didn't waver. But I heard my own breathing hitch. Here it comes. Finally. Hedwig let the second half of the sentence drop slowly.

"They were there to confirm whether I would die in transit." No one spoke. The folding chairs, the warehouse walls, the overhead pipes, and that unforgivingly bright white light all seemed to pin those words to the center of the room. Maki didn't look shocked. She just went a little quieter.

"Confirming whether you would die," Maki said slowly, "and wanting you dead, are two different things." Hedwig looked at her, and replied mildly:"Correct. Which is why I am willing to continue sitting here." Right. That was Hedwig for you. Even talking about her own near-assassination sounded like she was reading from a diplomatic briefing she had personally approved.

I suddenly had a very strong urge to smash my head against the folding chair next to me, just to see if physical amnesia could get me out of this conversation. Unfortunately, Maki seemed to know exactly what kind of cowardly escape route my brain was plotting. Without even looking at me, she added:"Shimo. Sit still. You need to hear this next part." The Executive Officer is genuinely too much sometimes. Because she doesn't just know what you're thinking. She locks the exit before you even start running.

Hedwig looked at us, her eyes flat again.

"Good," she said.

"Then, from here on: I ask, you answer." Only one thought remained in my head. —We're doomed.