Chapter 47
The announcer shouted as if about to faint.
– Are you saying you’re going to destroy the President?! President Dante Maxim?!
This was truly a scoop, a bombshell. The announcer’s eyes widened, and her whole body trembled.
Dante Maxim was a man who hadn’t stepped down from the presidency for 20 years. To the public, he was known as the splendid ruler who ended the war and gifted the land with the sea, but there were also vague rumors that he was a fearsome dictator. A candidate in his thirties saying he would destroy such a president—it seemed like he had more than one life to spare.
Indeed, he must be the man backed by Ender McGuire.
The announcer swallowed and threw another question.
– You’ve made the provocative statement that you’ll destroy the President, so what do you think is the first problem that needs to be changed?
– No, wait, that’s not it. I meant to destroy the system… the President’s system.
The timing was incredible, even thinking about it now. To an outside observer, it looked like he was making every possible provocation against Dante Maxim. Ridiculously violent statements kept coming.
– My goodness!
The announcer shouted as if she’d struck gold. On the TV screen, Anschel was covering his face with both hands. Angela couldn’t laugh either, her lips just twitching.
– Do you have any final words?
That question had the nuance of “leave your last will and testament.” Until now, not a single young person had provoked Dante Maxim to this extent. Perhaps it showed remarkable courage.
Of course, that’s not what Anschel had wanted to say. On-screen Anschel shed tears and softly recited:
– I will… create a world without conflict…
After making all those provocations, what a thing to say.
And so the interview ended. It was now probably being broadcast nationwide as a rerun.
‘If the morning broadcast looks like this, what will happen by evening…’
Anschel muttered, holding his head in both hands.
“I want to die.”
From embarrassment.
* * *
Tap, tap, tap-
Rhythmic sounds rang out loudly.
But what echoed in the silent room wasn’t the sound of fingers drumming on a desk, but a man’s voice. The voice leaked from a small tablet on the desk, which showed the full-screen face of an unfashionable man with a 2:8 hairstyle.
– Destroy the President’s system…
The one watching the video with a kind smile on his wrinkled face was the current President, Dante Maxim. He was repeatedly watching the interview video of some youngster fearlessly provoking him.
He was a man who gave the impression of a gentle grandfather from next door. People foolishly let down their guard because of his appearance. But those who had been even slightly close to him knew well how cruel and ruthless Dante Maxim was.
He had been re-elected as president by any means necessary, and that hadn’t changed in this election either. But whether it should be said that he was bitten by the dog he raised, or that a cherished dog had escaped and was now baring its not-so-funny teeth to threaten its master, he wasn’t sure.
Tap-, tap-.
His wrinkled fingers drummed on the desk several times. It had rhythm like playing piano keys, but it was dry and monotonous.
Delta Maxim was standing before him, looking so miserable that one might suggest he sit down. Delta’s face was covered in wounds, and he had gauze on one ear. He looked as if his entire face was wrapped in bandages.
The President rewound Anschel Lee’s interview again. When he pressed play, Anschel’s voice once again echoed through the silent office.
– I will destroy it.
“Strange, truly strange.”
Dante said, stroking his wrinkled chin while watching Anschel’s pale white face. A cigarette was held between his fingers, its ash having turned white and falling onto the desk with a thud.
But no one dared point this out. Delta was frowning intensely, his ear seemingly painful.
“How did such a worm find such courage?”
“He might have always been like that.”
Delta opened his mouth at his uncle’s words. No, the President shook his head and smiled kindly. When his wrinkled face filled with a smile, Delta’s expression hardened.
Delta had reported to the President to some extent, but he hadn’t told everything. A corner of his mind had developed a “what if” distrust.
In reality, Delta had nearly been killed by Ender when he went to the countryside that Dante had sent him to. Of course, before going to the countryside, his uncle had worriedly asked if he would be all right, and Delta had confidently answered, but surely his uncle could have stopped him if he really wanted to.
In fact, when Delta returned severely injured, the fleeting expression on his uncle’s face seemed to say, “I expected as much. It’s surprising they sent you back alive rather than killing you.” In reality, Dante was gauging and weighing Ender’s loyalty by observing Delta’s survival.
“That fellow knew his place, that’s why he could remain by that child’s side for so long.”
The President referred to Ender in a more familiar tone than to his nephew. Whether he knew or not that Ender was Anschel Lee’s guardian, Dante still seemed to trust Ender. Delta popped a painkiller and an anti-inflammatory pill into his mouth to ease the throbbing pain.
Dante recalled Anschel’s face turning white as he trembled before him. He didn’t seem like someone with such courage. Rather, he was an extremely cautious fellow.
He had moved very quietly and secretly even when faced with the merperson who had killed his parents. Such people were usually very fearful.
“Could it be that Colonel Ender… has intentions to push you out, Uncle?”
Delta, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. He still hadn’t directly reported that Ender McGuire was playing tricks to push Dante out for Anschel Lee’s sake.
At his nephew’s words, Dante touched his wrinkled face and burst out laughing. He laughed like someone who had heard a funny and foolish question.
“Ender… that child betraying me?”
“…It could happen.”
“Oh… that’s impossible, child.”
Dante shook his head in denial. It wasn’t clear what gave him such confidence, but Dante absolutely believed that Ender could not betray him.
What was the basis for this groundless trust?
Delta swallowed.
“A trained dog doesn’t bite its master.”
President Dante Maxim said with his eyes closed.
A trained dog? As Delta was inwardly confused, Dante Maxim spoke again with a voice full of certainty.
“Ender betraying me, it’s truly impossible.”
Even though Ender McGuire was sponsoring Anschel Lee and throwing ashes on the presidential election, the President smiled very kindly, hiding whatever scheme he had. It was a smile like a grandfather watching his grandchild showing off.
* * *
Ender said nothing.
Anschel, who had been pulling his hair, finally seemed to regain his sanity and began to cautiously look at Ender. Ender was looking down at Harriet with an expression that made his thoughts completely unreadable.
Harriet, receiving his gaze, was watching TV with quite an enjoyable expression. It was a face somewhat different from his usual listless appearance. Ender’s eyes, which never missed a moment of that face as if licking it, beautifully sparkled with a red light.
Around that time, Harriet’s gaze shifted from the TV to Anschel. Meeting his white eyes, Anschel tensed and swallowed hard.
Harriet could have pointed out Anschel’s hasty move or expressed disappointment at his failure to properly conduct an interview. After all, if the President moved because of such provocation, there was a high probability that their plan would be disrupted.
“Anschel.”
“Yes.”
“You look good on screen.”
“…Yes.”
Having delivered this deflating, calm observation, he changed the TV channel as it switched to commercials. Other news channels were also buzzing with stories about Anschel.
No matter which channel he turned to, Anschel’s face appeared. The unfashionable 2:8 hairstyle, the deathly pale face, and the thick glasses that looked high-prescription. Anschel had conquered TV to the point where he wished this was a dream.
As if that was all he had to say, Harriet leaned back against the sofa and sat comfortably.
From news to other media, every outlet was writing provocative articles about Anschel’s challenge without exception.
The public was following this situation with excitement, and there were those who cursed and those who cheered. But probably none of them seemed to think Anschel could become president.
Well, even Anschel himself thought there was absolutely no chance. Yet the fact that he didn’t give up and run away from this crazy plan was because he trusted Ender McGuire more than anyone.
Despite the situation, Harriet was just smiling slightly and staring at the TV. He really seemed to think Anschel looked good on screen.
Beside him, Ender had dared to place his hand on his senior’s shoulder and wore a dreamy expression. His ears and eyes didn’t seem to register whether Anschel on TV was talking nonsense or not.
Is it really okay to trust and follow such a person? Anschel swallowed hard. It was a moment when the trust that had been soaring infinitely just moments ago crashed to the ground.
Right now, Ender was fidgeting with his hand on Harriet’s shoulder, trying to gauge whether this was reality or not. More important than anything else was the fact that he had irreverently placed his hand on the shoulder of his noble senior, who was sitting side by side on the sofa, leisurely watching TV.
Ender, who had been staring blankly at his own hand on his senior’s shoulder, suddenly flinched. It was because his senior had turned his head and was now staring at Ender. White pupils, whose boundaries were hard to discern, were directed at Ender.
A faint red wave rippled in his eyes, reflecting Ender’s red eyes. As if falling in, Ender stared at him blankly. His senior, who was beautifully and immaculately clean enough to curse at, had been covered in dirty bodily fluids beneath him just yesterday.
“It seems like Anschel is waiting for an answer, Ender.”
“Yes.”
The only red lips permitted to Harriet opened. Ender swallowed a moan and turned his head. His hand remained on his senior’s shoulder.
Harriet suppressed a laugh as he looked at Ender’s dazed face. His cute junior seemed to finally come to his senses and slightly turned his head sideways before speaking lightly.
“Well done.”
“Pardon?”
Anschel made an expression of complete incomprehension, and due to his sudden head movement, his thick-lensed glasses slid down his face. Ender rested his chin on his hand with an indifferent expression.
“I said well done.”
“……”
“By evening, articles about you will be pouring in. The public will now remember your name. Not as the unknown Candidate No. 2, but as Anschel Lee, the presumptuous young candidate who fearlessly provokes the incumbent president.”
Ender raised his head as he spoke. His red eyes had already changed back to the eyes Anschel knew. Cold, but seemingly enjoying the situation. Recalling that when he had such eyes, his opponents were never left intact, Anschel swallowed hard.
“It’s just the right provocation to bring down that pathetic old man.”
A cynical smile briefly appeared and disappeared from his face.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
