How Can Two People From Different Sides Ever Fall in Love? - Chapter 20

Chapter 20

◎ Then I must offer him my sincere congratulations ◎

Voye had barely left the Light and Shadow Art Week planning group when he returned to the Chairman’s office to report on his mission.

“So, you mean that based on your observations, you think Raven’s relationship with him is passable?”

Voye stood before the desk, the mantle of gentleness having slipped from his face.

His expression was solemn now. After serious thought, he answered cautiously: “I didn’t actually see them interacting, but from the way Raven spoke, I didn’t sense any obvious repulsion toward Councilor Lancelot.”

“Perhaps…”

Verdi raised an eyebrow, looking at him with composed interest: “Mm?”

Voye smiled slightly, the curve of his lips seemingly calculated to a tee—a perfect blend of respect and just the right amount of closeness: “When three people claim there’s a tiger, it becomes real. Rumors pass from one person to another, and they only get more outrageous.”

“I still trust Raven; he knows his boundaries.” Verdi showed a timely look of worry; as for whom he didn’t trust, it went without saying.

A staff member seconded from the Dawn Party had no substantive subordinate relationship; once the work was done, he could drop the burden at any time and walk away. He was practically more of a hot potato than this year’s Art Week itself.

Voye knew better than to fan the flames at this moment; instead, he played the “good person” role, defending Hollis: “Although I haven’t heard that he has a good temper and is easy to get along with like Raven, I haven’t heard of him holding a grudge against anyone either. Perhaps it’s just because he looks a bit fierce that the rumors are catching at shadows.”

But as the words reached Verdi’s ears, he vaguely felt that the Secretary-General before him seemed to harbor a trace of admiration when mentioning this “new colleague.”

He didn’t point it out, merely blinking and quietly extinguishing the dark glint in his eyes.

“After working together for so many days, any conflict would have surfaced long ago.” Voye didn’t believe a person with a permanent good temper existed; it was just that the fuse to ignite him hadn’t been lit yet.

The appearance of peace would last for a short while, but the reality of the world was the plunder beneath the surface.

Verdi leaned back, letting most of his body sink into the chair’s backrest. He placed his hands on his increasingly rounded stomach, fingers interlaced, eyelids covering his pupils as he sat there in deep thought.

Voye remained still, quietly awaiting the leader’s next command.

“My Secretary-General,” Verdi spoke as time drifted through the air, “I know that you know your boundaries even better than Raven. So many eyes below are watching us; if we take a wrong step, we know exactly what is waiting for us. After all, so many cautionary tales are laid out right there.”

This was an affirmation, and also a warning.

Voye had expected this and responded unhurriedly: “Yes, Chairman.”

“As colleagues, we share the same goal, working together to overcome difficulties, promote the party’s development, and carry forward the party’s philosophy. Meanwhile, as seniors, it is only right to give care and help to our juniors so we may progress together.”

What Verdi wanted was exactly such a guarantee. He wasn’t worried that Voye would move against Raven; he was afraid Voye would move to help Raven. At a time like this, simply not making a mistake was doing the right thing.

Effort doesn’t necessarily bring success, but effort in the wrong direction can bring about the collapse of an entire system.

“With you all here, I am at ease.” Verdi gave a gratified smile. Having finished the official business, he changed the subject and began chatting about family matters as usual to show concern for his subordinate. “As my Secretary-General, after so many years of hard work and merit, it’s about time you had someone by your side to care for you.”

A conversation as regular as a monthly cycle; every time Voye finished reporting on work, Verdi couldn’t help but steer things toward this.

Marriage and career—the eternal topics for men. Voye’s ears were practically growing calluses.

“Thank you for your concern, Chairman.” But the required process still had to be followed. Voye revealed a meticulously designed smile, his head slightly lowered to hide a fleeting flash of disgust in his eyes. “I’m in no rush; at this stage, my career is still the priority.”

“Starting a family and building a career—they don’t conflict. Besides, I heard Councilor Montpellier of the Dawn Party is about to become a father. Although he’s a few years older than you, as peers of the same intake, you need to step it up. We haven’t fallen behind in our careers; don’t let him beat you in family matters either.”

The smile on Voye’s face froze, but in the blink of an eye, he returned to normal.

His smile deepened: “Then I must offer him my sincere congratulations.”

At the same time, in the Light and Shadow Art Week group office, Raven and Silver were engaged in a discussion about “why one must still refer to Hollis as ‘Mr.’ in private.”

“Madam, do you admire him so much—to the point of referring to him as ‘Mr.’ even when talking about him privately?”

Silver was stunned on the spot. After a few seconds, she reached this conclusion: “This proves that I am civilized, polite, of high character, and respectful of others.”

“You’re respectful of people you aren’t familiar with.” Raven struck the nail on the head, exposing the essence.

Silver’s state returned, and she immediately cited an example: “Look, I’m still restraining myself even now from shipping you and Mr. Lancelot. Isn’t that enough to prove my high character?”

Raven failed to grasp the logical connection and asked in confusion: “How does that prove it?”

“Look,” Silver held out a hand, curling down a finger with each point she made, “you are similar in age, matched in looks, and outstanding in ability. You clearly care for each other in silence, yet you are arch-enemies.”

Having counted through one hand, Silver couldn’t bear to add more. She lowered her hand and summarized: “Precisely because we are friends—if it were anyone else, with so many ‘moe’ points, I would have shipped it long ago. Does that not prove my character is high enough?”

Raven’s head was swimming. Without any defense, he blurted out: “Why can’t you ship your friends?”

He regretted it the moment he asked, but Silver became excited.

“So I can ship you?”

Raven performed timely damage control: “Of course not.”

Silver: “…”

Once he calmed down, Raven remembered that startling glimpse of a kiss and understood more or less why Silver couldn’t ship her friends.

With something that explosive happening right under his nose, how many more variations could Silver imagine and draw in places he couldn’t see?

Raven didn’t dare think further.

The two ultimately didn’t reach a conclusion because another person approached the office. However, he didn’t enter immediately, but waited at the door for a moment and knocked to signal his presence.

The sound of knocking interrupted the people inside. Silver catapulted out of her chair once again. Mid-catapult, after seeing clearly who it was, she patted her chest and prepared to sit back down.

Halfway through sitting, with only the final step between her buttocks and the cushion, she stood back up like a rising elevator, the bitterness in her eyes nearly overflowing: “Mr. Lancelot is back.”

Raven was more at ease, remaining seated, merely saying flatly: “You’re back.”

“Mm.” Hollis nodded, his face still not showing much enthusiasm, but he suddenly said to Silver: “You should just call me Hollis from now on.”

Silver didn’t find this a pleasant surprise; she felt the sky was falling.

It was one thing to be caught talking about someone behind their back, but this person insisted on calling it out explicitly, making the person caught realize just how despicable their behavior was. She deeply feared his next sentence would be the same question Raven asked—”Why can’t you ship your friends?”

“Alright.” Silver hurriedly agreed with a bitter smile. While dodging the main subject’s gaze, she saw the chocolates scattered across the table and immediately offered them all up, leaving not a single piece: “Do you want some chocolate?”

Raven explained from behind her: “Before you returned, Secretary-General Voye Auvergne stopped by. These are souvenirs he brought back from his trip.”

Hollis took only one piece: “Thanks.”

The chocolate, about the size of an adult woman’s palm, looked somewhat small in his hand.

Raven, adhering to the principle of “one less thing is better than one more,” didn’t remind him that it might be a cinnamon-flavored chocolate.

Hollis pinched the packaging. The surface of the plastic wrapper showed only regularly arranged small patterns, with no other markings; it was likely distributed from a larger gift box.

Pinching the square plastic wrapper with his coarse fingers, he clearly felt the irregular shape of the chocolate inside.

Hollis observed it from all angles for a while, then suddenly spoke: “A windmill?”

Silver tore open her piece of chocolate to look and immediately marveled: “Whoa, you’re a god! Are you the legendary ‘Eyes of the Eagle’?”

Raven didn’t mention that the “Eagle” secretly wore nearsighted glasses in private; he only sensed that this mention of a “windmill” seemed to hold some deep meaning.

“What about the windmill?”

“Nothing.” The moment Silver tore the packaging, a scent of cinnamon hit. Hollis frowned and handed the chocolate back to her: “You like it? You can have them all.”

Silver took them woodenly, a chocolate in each hand, marveling: “How come you say the exact same thing as Raven?”

Raven looked at the silly girl, speechless, while Hollis merely quirked his left broken eyebrow and smiled without a word.

Silver was the typical type to remember the food but not the blow.

As soon as it was time to leave, she picked up her briefcase and, like a butterfly, flew cheerfully out of the office: “Bye Raven, bye Hollis.”

Raven and Hollis exchanged a glance and shook their heads with amusement.

The elevator to the parking lot was crowded. Raven and Hollis stood side-by-side against the wall, scanning the crowd without speaking.

Thanks to the polished mirrors, Raven caught several colleagues surreptitiously exchanging glances.

Ding. The elevator chime interrupted Raven’s observation. Everyone walked out, gave generalized goodbyes, and headed to their respective parking spaces.

Also thanks to working together, Hollis openly got into Raven’s car.

Closing the car door and shutting out the probing gazes of other colleagues, Raven took off his glasses while warning: “In light of your license plate being restricted today, this is a one-time thing, not to be repeated.”

Hollis buckled his seatbelt. After the click, he said: “It’s not like my plate is only restricted today.”

Raven started the car: “It’s not like we’ll be cooperating forever.”

Hollis gave a “tsk,” irritably tugged at his tie, and grumbled internally that the person beside him was truly impervious to persuasion and armor-plated.

He curled his lip and said helplessly: “Got it, Master.”

Raven was still dissatisfied. While queuing to exit the parking lot, he took a moment to glare at Hollis: “Don’t shout nonsense outside; the car doors aren’t soundproof.”

Hollis ground his molars, restraining himself from glaring back.

Can’t say this, can’t do that. Raven might as well write it down point by point and they could sign a contract; anyone who breaches it doesn’t get to [censored] for a week.

The thought had barely arisen when Hollis shook his head, not quite knowing who was being punished.

Seeing the familiar cars merging into other road sections one by one, Hollis finally spoke the words he had been holding in for a long time: “By the way, what is a ‘CP’?”

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