In a large collective, the evasion of responsibility is an indispensable common practice.
Fletcher’s eyes were narrowed, his expression utterly weary. Within their depths, Ke Yiyi discerned a profound sense of disappointment and desolation. She could tell he hadn’t slept a wink, yet the source of his melancholy remained a mystery to her.
That morning, Lan Xifang had gathered everyone to announce a new mission—the very first for The Robin Club since its inception. Everyone else approached it with a sense of gravity, but Fletcher, it seemed, harbored little interest.
“The mission itself is not complicated,” Lan Xifang stated. “You are to be observers.”
A collective glance passed amongst the group, each person exchanging confused looks, none quite grasping Lan Xifang’s true meaning.
Kincaid, for once, refrained from his characteristic, almost demonic laughter. He cast a sidelong glance at the map on Fletcher’s table. Though only a small corner was visible, he had already pieced together the implications.
Observing Kincaid’s pensive expression, Lan Xifang paid him no mind and continued.
“According to the latest agreement reached between us and Xuanji Star, the Xuanji Star military and government agencies will withdraw from Sixty-One Workers City, Golden Fishhook City, and Worldly Affairs City. We will assist in supervising this withdrawal.”
“When will the specific details of this agreement be made public?” Liana inquired.
Liana glanced at Lan Xifang. As someone from an intelligence background, it was impossible for her to be entirely ignorant of such developments, yet a complete grasp of every minute detail was beyond her reach.
“It’s already been reported on today’s news,” Lan Xifang replied.
Retrieving the remote control from Fletcher, Lan Xifang switched on the wall-mounted television screen. A news anchor in the studio was detailing the specifics of the recently signed agreement.
She handed a dossier to Liana, who took it and extracted the documents. Liana briefly noted the classification and expiration date marked on the outside of the dossier—the confidentiality period had ended yesterday.
“Great Promontory… it’s ours now?” Ke Yiyi asked tentatively.
Before Lan Xifang could respond, another question was posed from a different quarter.
“And what is the cost?”
Ke Yiyi turned her head, immediately recognizing the voice as Li Yuyi’s. He sat nearby, his gaze neither obsequious nor arrogant, fixed on the documents in Liana’s hand.
Though he couldn’t see the contents of the files, he understood the unwritten rules of this world’s transactions: land acquired by Xuanji Star through bloodshed would not be returned to Vega without a substantial price.
“Yuan Su,” Liana answered on Lan Xifang’s behalf.
Having finished reading, she passed the documents to Li Yuyi.
“According to the agreement, Xuanji Star will exchange Great Promontory for Yuan Su.”
“Yuan Su from Yaoguang Star?” Kincaid scoffed, lifting his head.
He then let out his characteristic, almost demonic laugh. Beside him, Yoshida Rin, who had leaned in behind Li Yuyi to peer at the documents, quickly corrected him.
“It’s Yuan Su from Vega.”
“Whose Yuan Su it is no longer matters,” Fletcher said, breaking his silence. “It will soon belong to Xuanji Star.”
After a long silence, Fletcher finally sighed, releasing the pent-up tension in his chest.
“It seems this is the ultimate fate of the Cloud Mountain Peninsula’s western border.”
“Worldly Affairs City should have two sets of ‘Balzac ЗTurgenev Σ’ specialized machine tools,” Enfinietta remarked.
Enfinietta seemed unconcerned with the territorial shifts of Vega. Her attention remained fixed on the computer screen in her hands. Though few present had ever seen such a device, this ‘tablet computer’ was undeniably more convenient than a laptop. However, its functionality and widespread adoption were currently limited, found only within specialized institutions.
“Is that the equipment that takes up more space than an entire football field?” Kincaid asked.
Kincaid was not well-versed in industrial matters, his knowledge limited to common facts—and this particular machine tool certainly fell outside the realm of common knowledge.
“If described in layman’s terms, yes,” Lan Xifang confirmed, looking at Enfinietta.
She handed Enfinietta a glass of soda water.
Through their interactions over time, everyone had come to understand that Enfinietta was like a ‘robot,’ capable of working indefinitely as long as she had soda water and bread. When deeply engrossed in a task, she would simply disregard all ‘noise’ around her.
“So, what exactly are we supposed to do?” Ke Yiyi asked, pulling out a notebook to record.
But Lan Xifang casually pressed her hand over Ke Yiyi’s pen, preventing her from writing.
That calm gaze held an undeniable resolve that brooked no defiance. Ke Yiyi had only ever witnessed such an intensity in the eyes of highly trained soldiers.
“Be observers.”
Ke Yiyi understood Lan Xifang’s meaning: some information was simply not to be recorded, regardless of official confidentiality.
Seeing the understanding in Ke Yiyi’s eyes, Lan Xifang knew her thoughts had been conveyed. She then swept her gaze across the others, adding,
“While an official agreement has been reached, and the specific handover details and timeline have been confirmed, we cannot rule out unexpected incidents, such as minor provocations. This is precisely why we need to be observers.”
“Minor provocations? Does Xuanji Star no longer want Yuan Su?” Fletcher frowned.
He had a vague suspicion that Lan Xifang’s words carried a deeper meaning.
“It’s not necessarily Xuanji Star,” Liana interjected. “Don’t forget the ‘Great Flame Party’ and the ‘Thorn-Bearing Party’ are still active among the populace!”
Whether intentional or not, Liana’s gaze remained fixed on Fletcher as she spoke. Fletcher understood the implication perfectly, despite his deep aversion to the former group and his general dislike for the latter.
“Even if we don’t send anyone, Xuanji Star will have its own observers,” Hua Weiran said. “It’s a chain of suspicion; everyone worries the other side will try something.”
Hua Weiran took the documents from Yoshida Rin and nodded.
“The handover is next week. Everyone should pack a few essentials. We’ll depart for Yuan Su the day after tomorrow.”
“Why not tomorrow?”
“Because there’s no ‘hitchhike’ available tomorrow.”
Fletcher, understanding the subtle hint, wisely kept his mouth shut and refrained from further questions.
While he often gave off an impression of being flighty, frequently accompanied by peculiar humor and ill-timed jokes, Fletcher was far from foolish; indeed, he was remarkably intelligent. It was hard to discern whether his seemingly oblivious antics were deliberate attempts to draw attention or merely a reflection of his free-spirited nature. In essence, he was a person who, for the most part, lacked seriousness, yet could become utterly earnest in specific circumstances.
With that, the assembled group dispersed, leaving Ke Yiyi with a peculiar sense of unreality.
It felt as though everything had been said, and yet nothing at all.
Accustomed to rigorous, meticulous mission deployments that accounted for every individual and every single step, this ambiguous assignment left her genuinely perplexed. It felt utterly detached from her, and she had no idea how to even begin.
One thing, however, was certain: this mission required weapons, necessitating a thorough re-inspection of all arms and ammunition, with no room for even the slightest oversight.
Moreover, the mention of a ‘hitchhike’ earlier suggested that the new department’s budget hadn’t yet been approved, meaning many items would have to be self-provided. Ke Yiyi wasn’t wealthy, but she frequently found herself dipping into her personal funds for work-related purchases.
This wasn’t due to a lack of police department funds; rather, many expenses were fully reimbursable. However, to bypass a lengthy application process, she often opted to pay out of pocket. While this offered considerable convenience, it undeniably depleted her savings. Fortunately, her daily life on Vega didn’t require much expenditure.
Back in her room, as she began to organize her belongings, she suddenly recalled a conversation with Section Chief Aiye yesterday. Section Chief Aiye had mentioned mailing something to her, expected to arrive this morning. No matter how much she inquired, her superior had refused to reveal the contents, merely stating that she would know when it arrived.
With the imminent departure for the northern part of the peninsula, Ke Yiyi felt an urgent need to retrieve any pending packages as soon as possible.
She made inquiries and discovered that, aside from Enfinietta’s small toolbox, only Li Qiwei had a few packages to collect. Ke Yiyi noted this and prepared to set out to retrieve them together.
Just before she left, Gan Lan approached her, seemingly with something to say. Yet, for some unknown reason, Gan Lan ultimately departed without uttering a word. Ke Yiyi didn’t quite grasp the meaning behind it, but surmising it was simply Gan Lan’s nature, she didn’t press for an explanation.
‘Wildfire Logistics’ was the designated courier service for official Vega personnel. All inter-office mail had to go through them. Though Ke Yiyi was aware of their connection to intelligence agencies and that her items would be inspected, she didn’t mind. She had nothing that needed to be kept secret or hidden from others. Wildfire Logistics, for their part, had no interest in prying into personal privacy; they merely sought to confirm the absence of contraband, especially after the ‘Mirage City Spy Case.’
Wildfire Logistics had a drop-off point on the west side of Bakunin Street. Following the road signs, Ke Yiyi quickly located it and efficiently completed the necessary procedures, collecting packages for three individuals.
Ke Yiyi noted that the drop-off point was aware that Li Qiwei, Enfinietta, and she were currently members of the same department. This indicated that while many aspects were still developing, The Robin Club was not merely a ‘show project,’ but was genuinely regarded as a fully operational department.
Enfinietta’s toolbox was remarkably compact yet incredibly heavy. Ke Yiyi wondered what equipment it contained; it was secured with only a common small padlock. Li Qiwei’s packages, in contrast, were unremarkable, seemingly filled with snacks and similar items. Section Chief Aiye’s package, however, was the heaviest and largest of them all.
Ke Yiyi merely weighed the package in her hands and instantly guessed its contents… or rather, she realized she should have known all along… it was Shell City watermelons.
While she couldn’t fathom why Section Chief Aiye would specifically mail two watermelons, given Section Chief Aiye’s personality, it felt entirely logical. After all, her mind was constantly brimming with eccentric ideas. Ke Yiyi had always admired her profoundly, finding it difficult to imagine how she could remain so optimistic and composed after all she had endured.
With a watermelon in each hand and her bag slung over her shoulder, Ke Yiyi continued on her way alone.
She noticed someone by the roadside observing her, seemingly lost or searching for something. Although no longer a police officer, she still paused, wondering if the person needed assistance.
As expected, upon seeing her stop, the individual quickly approached, holding up a Vega identification card.
“Hello, could you please tell me how to get to 133 Bakunin Street?”
Ke Yiyi immediately grew wary. That address was The Robin Club’s location. She scrutinized the man: an ordinary-looking middle-aged man, devoid of any discernible badges or uniform. Despite his calm demeanor, a strong sense of urgency was discernible in his eyes. Perhaps he was looking for the former staff club, likely unaware that it was now the workplace of a new department.
“What business do you have there?” Ke Yiyi asked.
The middle-aged man took in Ke Yiyi’s wariness completely. From her micro-expressions and subtle movements, he surmised she had received police training. He wasn’t bothered by her caution; it was a natural reaction for someone with such a background, and he saw no need to conceal his purpose.
“I’m looking for someone.”
“That’s no longer the staff club,” Ke Yiyi informed him.
“I know,” the man replied. “A new department has been established there, and the person I’m looking for is there.”
Ke Yiyi said nothing further. The Robin Club’s existence wasn’t a secret, nor did it currently involve any classified information; any Vega citizen had the right to inquire. She pointed in the direction of the street.
“Just follow this road straight ahead.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s my duty.”