How Can Two People From Different Sides Ever Fall in Love? - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Crooked Tie and Toying with Cufflinks

In the brightly lit room, Raven gave his hands two brisk shakes. He pulled a paper towel from the dispenser beneath the mirror, wiped away every trace of water, and folded it precisely by the corners into a perfect, square “tofu block.” He held it over the trash can; his hand relaxed, and the paper fell.

The paper square drifted like a fallen leaf into the bin. Raven looked up into the mirror to inspect his appearance.

Not bad.

His hair was meticulous, his suit was free of creases, and his bow tie was perfectly centered—far more pleasing to the eye than a certain spokesperson for the Aurora Party back in the meeting.

The moment the thought surfaced, that very spokesperson leaped from his mind and stood boldly in the mirror’s reflection.

“No wonder I couldn’t find you during every break. So you’re hiding here, Councilor Raven.”

Raven addressed the reflection directly. “My deepest apologies, Councilor Hollis. I wasn’t aware you were looking for me. To have troubled you so… I am truly overwhelmed.”

“Cut the crap.” Hollis stepped forward. Without doing anything else, he washed his hands first. Amidst the splashing water, he turned his face toward Raven. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

Since the meeting started, Raven hadn’t stopped with the biting sarcasm.

Hollis had even reflected on his own actions, but he had been on a business trip for two weeks and had only stepped off the plane this morning. He hadn’t even dropped off his luggage before racing to the Conference Building. Logically, he shouldn’t have had a chance to offend Raven.

“Please be clear about your identity, Councilor Hollis. One of us belongs to the People’s Reason Party, and the other to the Aurora Party. Our positions are naturally opposed. Do I really need an excuse to rebut your proposals during a meeting?”

Raven was all smiles, maintaining that same gentle, refined persona.

As Hollis listened to his nonsense, the events that had transpired in the meeting moments ago began to resurface in his mind.

Every year, once the Feast of the God on March 3rd concluded, the two major political parties of the Republic of Olo—the People’s Reason Party and the Aurora Party, would gather at the Conference Building for their annual inter-party consultative meeting. The goal was to vote on proposals and draft a framework for the National Assembly at the end of the year.

Today, as the meeting neared its end, Hollis Lancelot—the Aurora Party councilor who had just returned from a trip to Beeremilu—was delivering a speech on the “Legalization of Same-Sex Marriage.”

As soon as he finished, Verdi, the Chairman of the People’s Reason Party, offered a series of remarks that praised him on the surface but belittled him underneath. Taking the cue, the members of both parties began their debate.

This time, both sides were holding back, terrified of repeating the past mistake that had required security intervention. A meeting debate was both a stadium and a battlefield; not only did they want to win, but sometimes they fought as if their lives depended on it.

Security call-outs weren’t normally that unusual. Their bad luck stemmed from some anonymous busybody who filmed the chaotic brawl and uploaded it to the internet. In the video, amidst a constant stream of “beeps,” water bottles and leather shoes flew in every direction. It wouldn’t have been an exaggeration to call it a village-square fistfight.

Ten years of hard work ignored; one scandal known to the whole world. From then on, blatant aggression was out; subtle sarcasm was in.

But being snide was exhausting. Not everyone had Verdi’s talent for offending people while smiling. Those with slower reactions would stutter mid-sentence, causing their momentum to instantly deflate.

After a verbal battle of varying quality, the members of both parties reached a brief handshake of peace.

In the corner of the massive conference table, Raven had remained largely unresponsive, aside from an initial glance at Hollis that lingered for a moment on his tie. Suddenly, he felt a gaze shoot straight at him. He looked over and saw Chairman Verdi looking solemn, his usual smile gone.

This was the downside of Raven’s seat—positioned exactly at the corner of the long table. He could see everyone, but everyone could also see him. Verdi had likely gotten too fired up during the debate and was firing indiscriminately. He had forgotten that Raven mainly handled behind-the-scenes work and often played the role of a “vase” during meetings—meaning he sat there looking pretty without speaking.

“Firstly,” Raven began—knowing he had to follow his leader’s silent command regardless, his lips curving into a precise arc as he stared at the tie that had left a mark in his memory. He uttered something startling: “I feel that Councilor Hollis’s proposal, much like his tie, is always a bit crooked.”

The room fell dead silent. A deafening hush echoed through the hall. Some people looked at Raven in disbelief, while others instinctively scrutinized the tie in question to see if it was truly crooked enough to warrant their usually good-natured Councilor Raven being so hung up on it. Others simply stared across the long table at their rivals in a daze.

That’s how it was with people who didn’t speak often: a few casual words could cause a sensation. Even though the others had been far more out of line than Raven.

“In that case, Councilor Raven, are you planning to come up here and straighten it for me?” The other party involved, Hollis, spoke words just as shocking. The others didn’t dare breathe, communicating only through their eyes.

On the podium, Hollis seemed completely unfazed. He narrowed his eyes slightly, causing the broken end of his left eyebrow to twitch. Combined with his expression, he looked undeniably fierce.

The truth was, he was slightly nearsighted and disliked wearing glasses. With one of them standing at the podium and the other sitting at the far end of the long table, he couldn’t see Raven’s features clearly. However, through the slight blur, he could see that Raven’s tie was perfectly positioned. The white shirt collar above the knot was smooth and crisp, like two sharp blades hiding a dormant danger.

At the thought of how that perfection was achieved, Hollis felt an itch at the root of his teeth and couldn’t help but grind his molars. Seeing this, the others were chilled into silence. If it weren’t for the long-standing animosity between the two parties, they would have thought these two “Twin Stars” were openly flirting during the meeting.

Only the culprit remained unchanged. Raven actually did want to do exactly what Hollis suggested, but the timing was wrong. He could only go against his heart and explain, “I felt the atmosphere was a bit stiff and made a joke. If I offended you, I apologize.”

After the joke, Raven turned serious. “Secondly, the same problem remains: no matter how detailed the data is, it cannot represent the entirety of public opinion. Councilor Hollis has indeed provided much positive feedback, but what about the voices of the dissenters? Shouldn’t we take them into consideration as well?”

This type of proposal wasn’t within Raven’s scope of duty. As a financial councilor of the Parliament, he usually stayed in the background and rarely acted as a spokesperson for party proposals, let alone participated in inter-party debates. This meeting was just a formality; there was still a long way to go before same-sex marriage could be legalized. He was simply spouting “correct nonsense” to fulfill his boss’s task.

However, the man on the podium didn’t seem to get the signal. He arched an eyebrow, making the fierce broken brow look even more blatant. “According to Councilor Raven, does every past proposal from your party cover one hundred percent of public opinion?”

Raven’s lips wore a smile, but his gaze was tangible as it shot directly toward the man on the podium. Their eyes met across the hall. Across the longest diagonal distance of the room, a thick scent of gunpowder erupted, mirroring their respective parties—the People’s Reason Party and the Aurora Party. Since their inception, they had been in constant conflict, as incompatible as fire and water.

A war without smoke was about to break out. The expressions of those around them remained neutral, but an undercurrent was surging in their hearts.

In truth, the performance between Raven and Hollis was far less intense than any of their past encounters. But because it was Raven and Hollis, it felt different. The two parties didn’t just dislike each other; they competed in everything. Naturally, they wouldn’t overlook the two rising stars of the younger generation. Raven and Hollis were the “cream of the crop.” They were of similar age and striking appearance; through constant comparison, they had earned the nickname “The Twin Stars” in private circles.

The “Twin Stars” were the celebrity figures of their parties. Previously, the tension between them had been entirely a product of the public’s imagination. Seeing it manifest today in reality brought a mix of surprise and excitement—it felt like being at a gladiator arena. The audience’s blood was pumping; those watching the match were more excited than the ones playing it. This simple, strong emotion clouded their judgment, leaving them no energy to wonder why this small storm had started in the first place.

After all, before this, the “Twin Stars” had only clashed in rumors.

“They say it is the fate of the speaker to be misunderstood. Given the Councilor’s levels of comprehension and expression, it’s hardly surprising you would say such a thing.”

Within the two parties, Hollis had a widely known nickname: “The Data Maniac.” As the name suggested, the data in every one of his reports was remarkably resilient to scrutiny, often serving as the Aurora Party’s most powerful weapon in counterattacking the People’s Reason Party.

But politics wasn’t scientific research. Data is cold; only the mouth has warmth. What they needed to do was use their voices to give that data temperature—to imbue statistics with the charm of journalism to persuade more people and win more votes.

“I also felt the atmosphere was too dull and made a joke. If Councilor Raven feels offended, I’ll apologize first.”

Raven ignored his “joke.” “Lastly, the desire for marriage among contemporary youth is steadily declining. Is the Councilor pushing for the legalization of same-sex marriage just to help our colleagues at the Civil Affairs Bureau meet their performance quotas?”

Hollis replied unhurriedly, “For a long time, we have looked at issues from a mainstream perspective. As civilization progresses, shouldn’t we also listen to the voices of minority groups?”

“What does the Councilor think marriage is?” Raven asked and answered himself. “Marriage is more of an economic issue. When minority groups throw themselves into mainstream marriage, is it based on emotion or economics?”

From different angles of emotion and economics, the answer would naturally differ. If Hollis answered “emotion,” then why would a minority group need to join a mainstream marriage system designed to maintain social stability? Conversely, they already had civil laws that could solve most economic issues.

Hollis didn’t take the bait. “The law should grant them the rights they deserve. As for whether they use them, that is a different topic.”

“Just as the Councilor says. But is this a right naturally required by humans, or a right manufactured by humans? When society changes in the future, will these rights change with it?”

“You seem very repelled by marriage?”

Raven froze, then chuckled softly. Compared to Hollis’s cold-faced confusion, which seemed like an offense, Raven was breezy, as if he didn’t care at all. However, beneath the table, his left hand was gently toying with the sapphire cufflink on his right sleeve.

The next second, Verdi interrupted them. “Time’s up. It’s time for a lunch break.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Raven snapped back to reality. He was still trying to figure out which of Hollis’s questions he had missed when he saw the man who asked it turn around and start marching toward him.

Raven wasn’t one to sit and wait for death, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hollis’s hands, which were still dripping with water. Every thought of resistance vanished—he was, above all, a man who recognized the reality of a situation.

As Hollis approached, Raven stepped back one pace at a time until his back hit the wall. With no room left to retreat, he had to reach out and press against the chest of the advancing man.

“Councilor, this is a public place. Let’s talk things out properly.”

Having said that, and sensing the distance was just right, Raven finally reached up and straightened the tie that had been annoying him for a very long time.

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