"Then it's settled!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Miles continued, "Anthony, you'll stay and guard the base, but I can only spare fifty men for you, and the weapons are limited. Any problems with that?"
Anthony hesitated briefly before nodding. "I'll do my best."
"It's not about doing your best—it's about ensuring that Cloud City remains secure!" Miles clapped him on the shoulder. "As long as you hold the base, the scattered laborers out there will have nowhere else to go. Sooner or later, they'll come to us. You can figure out the rest on your own…"
"..."
Anthony's eyes lit up as he grasped the meaning behind Miles's words. He straightened his back and said with conviction, "Don't worry, Miles. Over my dead body will anyone lay a finger on Cloud City!"
"Good. Let's get to work."
Miles clapped his hands, signaling the end of the meeting.
The yard was piled high with enough weapons and equipment to outfit an entire battalion. Anthony and his team hurriedly took their share and immediately set about fortifying defenses.
Ryan, meanwhile, led two hundred men and began rallying them with a fiery pre-battle speech.
Thomas didn't waste time on motivation; he armed his team and got straight to work, poring over maps to identify ambush sites and plan terrain-based traps.
"They're all gone..."
Miles let out a deep breath as he sank into the sofa, glancing at Mary with a faint smile. "Why didn't you leave?"
Mary picked up the teapot from the stove, poured herself a cup of hot water, and held it delicately in her hands. "My job is to oversee and help solve problems. Everything else is none of my concern."
Miles chuckled. "Funny how you seem to have the easiest job, yet draw the highest salary."
"That salary is just a promise, isn't it? It doesn't count until it's delivered." Mary's eyes glimmered as she looked at him and added with a playful smile, "By the way, when does Miles plan to fulfill his promise of giving me ten percent of the resources?"
"Oh hey, have you eaten yet? Lisa's making steak tonight. Why don't you come over and join us?" Miles turned mechanically to the window, avoiding her gaze.
If it had been in the past, Mary would have scoffed at such an invitation, considering it a condescending gesture of charity.
But tonight, she didn't walk away. Instead, she nodded. "Alright."
"..."
"Come on, don't keep Lisa waiting."
"I…"
"What? Is Miles too stingy to offer a steak dinner?"
Miles stammered, flustered. "I just… just remembered we're not cooking tonight! Haha… Really sorry about that!"
"No worries. I'll take whatever you've got—water works too." Mary ignored him and, with a sly smile, headed toward the opposite villa.
Miles sighed heavily and muttered, "What did I do to deserve this…"
At dinner.
Two plates of steak, two vegetarian dishes, and a bowl of soup.
After half a year of practice, Lisa's culinary skills had improved by leaps and bounds. Even Miles, a self-proclaimed foodie, had praised her cooking on multiple occasions.
If the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, Lisa had definitely mastered the art. Much of her firm hold on Miles could be attributed to her ever-improving skills in the kitchen.
Mary, full and satisfied, let out an ungraceful burp, sighing with contentment. "Lisa, your cooking is amazing. I really need to learn from you more often."
"Hah, full bellies make for polite tongues, huh?" Miles shot Mary a glare, still bitter about her stealing the last piece of beef.
"And yet you're just the supplier," Mary retorted with a cool glance, her tone indifferent. "At best, you're the guy who provides the ingredients."
"Hey, what the—" Miles slammed his chopsticks on the table, ready to fire back.
"And who exactly are you thinking of?" Mary cut him off sharply, locking eyes with him. "Come on, Miles. Let's hear it. Who is it you want to—?"
"You…"
Miles was so taken aback by Mary's sudden aggressiveness that he froze mid-sentence.
"What? Spit it out."
"What happened to you in just a few days? Where's the proud swan who always held her head high? What's with this… this new attitude?"
"Shut up."
Mary rolled her eyes and replied nonchalantly, "You're thinking of Ansel. If you want someone strutting around with their neck stiff, go talk to him. I'll do what I want—what's it to you?"
"Fine, fine. You win." Miles leaned back, exasperated. "So this is what they mean by bending with the wind, huh?"
"Wrong. This is what they mean by 'different chains for different monkeys.'"
"…"
Mary finished the last grain of rice on her plate, then got up to clear the table.
Lisa, watching the two bicker like an old married couple, couldn't help but burst out laughing. She quickly got up to stop Mary. "Mary, you're a guest! You shouldn't be washing the dishes."
"At a time like this, what's the point of talking about being a guest? There are people out there who can't even get a sip of hot water, let alone a proper meal," Mary said as she scrubbed the dishes. "We should all learn to be grateful."
"Ha…"
Miles couldn't resist the opportunity. He followed her into the kitchen, smirking. "Gratitude, huh? Do you even know the meaning of the word? These days, a piece of meat could get you three girls in black stockings. And you? What have you got to offer?"
"Oh? Would you like to see me in black stockings?" Mary paused, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Didn't you already see everything last time? What's the matter—can't get it out of your head?"
"..." Miles was left speechless.
Lisa grabbed him by the ear, scolding, "Miles, I knew you were up to no good! Now you're hitting on girls in plain sight? Even the grass near your own fence isn't safe?"
"I—" Miles yelped as he tried to defend himself.
"Lisa," Mary sighed dramatically, looking amused. "It's not that I want to steal your man. It's just that if he tried to force himself on me, what could I do?"
"Alright, Mary. You've got guts!" Miles, now thoroughly irritated, glared at her. "Just wait. One of these days, I'll get even with you!"
Smack!
A wet dishcloth landed square on Miles's face.
Ding-dong!
The sound of the doorbell interrupted their playful banter.
Ansel stood outside, peering through the peephole and furiously pressing the bell.
Bang!
"Ow, what the—"
The door swung open, smacking Ansel square in the face and sending him tumbling backward.
"Who the hell are you trying to mess with?" Miles growled, stepping outside and giving Ansel a swift kick.
"B-boss…"
Ansel stood up sheepishly, pulling an envelope from his pocket. "The guys at the gate just brought this in. It says it's for your eyes only."
"A letter?"
Miles raised an eyebrow.
Who even writes letters these days? Talk about old school.
Ansel shrugged. "No idea who sent it. When the shift changed, the letter was found stuck to the window. Someone saw a shadowy figure, but they couldn't catch him."
Miles opened the envelope, finding a single sheet of paper with a few lines scrawled across it.
Ansel, unable to read, craned his neck to get a look before asking, "What's it say?"
"You're still illiterate, huh?" Miles chuckled. "All that time with Mary, and you didn't pick up even a few words? Guess she's not much of a teacher after all."
"What's literacy got to do with anything?"
"Doesn't it?"
"Does it?"
"Doesn't it?"
"...Well?"