The Boundaries of Possession - Chapter 8
“Moreover, the sole supplier of Astrite is the Brillen Viscounty. I assume you already knew that.”
A woman came to Andreas’s mind—Brillen again. He thought of Elysia and let out a bitter smile. How laughable it was for someone like her to confess without knowing her place.
Behind him, Hern cleared his throat noisily, giving him a nudge. Andreas glanced toward the secretary, who was furiously scribbling as if to document even his expressions.
“Did you come here after securing an agreement with Brillen?” she asked.
Andreas laughed arrogantly at her words.
How fascinating.
His low laughter filled the hall, and the faces of those sitting nearby turned pale. After slowly collecting his expression, he spoke.
“You’re challenging the authority of the imperial family. Are you telling me to convince the Viscount?”
“If you can, that is.”
Her provocative attitude didn’t spark anger but rather a sense of déjà vu. What was this strange yet familiar feeling of discomfort? Her tone and manner reminded him of something—or someone. Tilting his head, he asked,
“Even if it means turning the nobles against you, you don’t mind?”
A soft chuckle escaped her. Andreas looked up at the woman staring down at him. Despite not being an alpha, her behavior was remarkably bold.
“You’re mistaken, Your Grace.”
As she continued, her laughter slowly faded, leaving behind a stern warning. She raised her index finger.
“You are not a member of the imperial family right now. You are here representing the imperial court in negotiations with our merchant guild.”
She then raised her middle finger.
“Also, Your Grace, you cannot afford to alienate all the nobles. Many families depend on their transactions with us and would crumble without them.”
Seven years ago, Karmaut had rapidly expanded by monopolizing Astrite, growing to the point where it now held immense influence over both domestic and international noble families.
“Power does not belong to the nobles.”
The once vague conversation was starting to take shape. Andreas felt he was beginning to understand her, even if only superficially.
“It belongs to those who create them.”
‘The world doesn’t belong to the strong. It belongs to those who create the strong.’
Elysia Brillen’s defiant words suddenly flashed through his mind. His eyes blazed as he focused on the woman sitting on the platform. A foolish noblewoman? Or perhaps a woman with considerable wealth.
“Let’s put an end to this wordplay.”
The irritation in his voice caused the tension in the room to spike. When Andreas suddenly stood, the secretary and merchants nearby recoiled in fear.
He strode toward the platform, his slow steps resembling those of a predator stalking its prey. His presence alone exuded overwhelming pressure.
The merchant standing next to the guildmaster visibly shrank. Andreas’s lips curved into a charming smile as he climbed the red-carpeted steps and stopped in front of the guildmaster.
“Well, you make a valid point.”
His towering height cast a dark shadow over her. His large silhouette completely swallowed her figure, which had been inflated by her layered garments. A low chuckle escaped him as he caught a glimpse of white hair peeking out from under her headpiece.
“If I successfully convince the Viscount?”
“Then we will consider renegotiating.”
She maintained her confident demeanor. Andreas quickly scanned her from head to toe, analyzing her jewelry, clothing, and posture, searching for clues about her identity.
Somehow, he felt as though the woman behind the mask was staring directly at him, her gaze challenging. A subtle thrill traveled down his spine. His smile deepened.
“No, you should first consider how that control will be managed. And that control—”
Andreas leaned closer toward her white mask, his face inches from hers, as if he were about to press his lips to hers. A faint trace of pheromones wafted toward him. It was subtle but impossible to ignore, instinctively drawing him in.
She was undoubtedly an omega.
“—will be mine.”
The air grew suffocatingly tense, and he whispered as though offering her a moment of mercy. His gaze fell on her ear, small and delicate like her hand, sparking an inexplicable urge within him.
Damn instincts.
“I’ll be waiting for your wise decision.”
