Strax crossed the gates of the main mansion with his usual ease, as if he were simply returning from some ordinary task—and, to any outside observer, that’s probably exactly what it looked like. His posture was relaxed, his steps firm but unhurried, while the slight creaking of the doors closing behind him marked his definitive return to the heart of Asgard. The air inside was different from the hot springs—colder, more structured, laden with organization and purpose—and yet, there was a subtle contrast in the way he moved now, as if something had been... relieved.

As soon as he crossed the main corridor, he slowly raised his arms above his head and stretched, the movement gently pulling the muscles of his shoulders and back, accompanied by a small sigh that escaped without any attempt at restraint.

"...right," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else, as he let his arms fall back to his sides. His gaze lifted slightly, as if he were gazing at something distant, beyond the walls of the mansion. "Now it’s time to go to the capital... or whatever they call it."

The tone was casual, almost disinterested, but there was a clear line of intent behind the words. This decision wasn’t impulsive—it had been there for some time, just waiting for the right moment to be executed.

Without wasting time, he turned right and began walking through the familiar corridors of the mansion, passing some members who immediately straightened up upon seeing him, averting their gaze with respect. He didn’t react to this—it was nothing new—he simply continued on his way with the same silent and dominant presence as always, until he reached the door of his own office.

He didn’t knock.

He never knocked.

The door opened with a simple movement, and he entered.

And then... he stopped.

Not completely, but enough.

Monica was already there.

Seated at the desk, as if the space were as much hers as his—which, in practice, wasn’t so far from the truth. Stacks of documents were neatly arranged around her, some already open, others marked with small notes, while her attention was completely focused on a specific sheet the moment he entered.

She looked up.

And smiled.

"Good morning," she said, with an almost irritating naturalness, as if nothing in that scene was out of the ordinary.

Strax closed the door behind him with a slight movement, walking a few steps into the office before replying, his voice neutral, but carrying that subtle trace of constant observation.

"Good morning."

He approached the desk, his eyes quickly scanning the scattered documents, immediately recognizing the pattern—precise organization, efficient categorization, everything in its right place.

Monica.

Always her.

But then—

She spoke again.

"And then," she began, resting her chin slightly on her hand as she observed him with an almost overly curious look, "how was your night?"

Silence.

Strax stopped completely this time.

His eyes moved slowly until they met hers, and there was a slight twitch in his expression—not exactly surprise, but something close to... suspicion.

"...what do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice low, controlled, but clearly assessing the intention behind the question.

Monica blinked once.

Twice.

And then shrugged.

Completely calm.

"Oh, nothing much," she replied, as if commenting on the weather. "Just... well..."

She paused briefly, as if organizing her sentence—not out of necessity, but for sheer effect.

"Everyone heard you and Agnes at the fountains."

Silence.

Strax didn’t react immediately.

But he didn’t look away either.

Monica continued.

"Then at the hotel."

Another pause.

"Then in the forest."

Yet another.

"Then in... several other places~"

Her tone remained light, almost humming at the end, as if she were listing trivial events of an ordinary day.

The silence that followed was... heavy.

But not for long.

Strax let out a small sigh through his nose, bringing his hand to his forehead for a moment, pressing lightly as if he were rearranging some part of his own patience.

"...I understand," he murmured.

There was no denial.

There was no real embarrassment.

But there was... acceptance.

Monica tilted her head slightly, observing his reaction with genuine interest, like someone gathering data rather than judging.

"Look," she continued, elegantly crossing her legs while resting her arms on the table, "I’m not complaining."

He glanced sideways.

She smiled a little more.

"Sex is good," she said directly, without any filter, as if commenting on food or rest. "I even recommend you give me attention later."

A short pause.

And then, with the same tranquility:

"But... do it in moderation."

Strax arched an eyebrow slightly.

"...moderation."

"Yes," Monica confirmed, nodding with almost comical seriousness. "Especially when it involves multiple public places and... considerable duration."

He didn’t reply. But his gaze said enough.

Monica wasn’t intimidated.

She was never intimidated.

"And please," she added, raising a finger as if giving an important technical instruction, "use magic to muffle the sound."

Silence.

Total.

For a full second.

Two.

And then—

Strax let out a low laugh.

Short.

But real.

"...I’ll consider that," he said, nodding slightly as he approached his chair and sat down, finally taking his place behind the desk.

Monica smiled, satisfied.

"Great," she replied, looking back at the papers as if nothing unusual had been said. "Asgard’s infrastructure thanks you."

Strax rested his elbow on the desk, watching her for a moment before glancing back at the documents.

"...you really don’t miss a thing, do you?"

Monica flipped through a page.

"It’s my job."

Simple as that.

He let out another small sigh, but this time there was a lighter trace in it—less tension, more... acceptance of the organized chaos that was dealing with her.

"Since we’re talking about work," he said, shifting the focus naturally, "I’m going out."

Monica didn’t immediately look up.

"Where to?"

"The capital."

That made her pause.

Now, her eyes lifted.

More attentive.

More serious.

"...finally," she murmured.

Strax nodded slightly.

"It’s time to meet the celestial emperor."

The air in the room shifted slightly.

Not heavy.

But... more focused.

Monica watched him for a few seconds in silence, clearly recalculating priorities, risks, possibilities.

Then she slowly closed the document she was analyzing.

"So we’ll need to adjust a few things before that," she said, already fully reverting to strategic mode.

As if the previous conversation had never happened.

But the slight smile at the corner of her lips... was still there.

And, for some reason—

Strax didn’t seem to mind.

Strax leaned back slightly in his chair, his fingers drumming almost distractedly on the table surface as he watched Monica rearrange the documents with almost mechanical efficiency, as if each sheet already had a defined destination before it was even touched. The lightness of the previous moment still lingered in the air, but now it was beginning to be replaced by something more familiar to the two: focus.

Direction.

Planning.

"Before you just walk off to the capital as if you’re going to solve everything in a casual conversation...," Monica began, without immediately looking up, her voice returning to that analytical tone that seemed to cut through any trace of informality, "we need to consider a few basic things."

Strax tilted his head slightly, resting his chin on his hand, clearly ready to listen—not out of submission, but because he knew that, when it came to this sort of thing, Monica was rarely wrong.

"Like what?" he asked simply.

Monica picked up one of the documents and slid it across the table toward him.

"Visibility," she replied. "You’re no longer... discreet."

Strax let out a small nasal sound, almost a suppressed laugh.

"I never was."

"Before, you were irrelevant to the rest of the continent," she retorted immediately, now raising her eyes to meet his gaze firmly. "Now you’re a rapidly growing point with internal stability, a constant flow of refugees, and a military force that, even while still developing, is already attracting attention."

She paused briefly, crossing her arms.

"Asgard is no longer invisible."

Silence.

Strax picked up the document without haste, quickly scanning the information and absorbing everything almost instantly.

"...that makes sense," he murmured.

Monica nodded slightly.

"And that completely changes how you should present yourself."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Present yourself?"

"Yes," she replied, leaning forward slightly. "Because, like it or not, this isn’t just about you finding the celestial emperor and deciding whether or not to kill him."

Strax didn’t deny it.

Nor did he confirm it.

But the slight movement at the corner of his mouth betrayed that that thought... had definitely crossed his mind.

Monica sighed.

"This is politics now," she continued. "Territory, influence, alliances, perception. If you go in there as a direct threat, you’ll get exactly that: immediate resistance."

She rested her elbow on the table, her fingers lightly touching her temple.

"And not just from him."

Strax was silent for a few seconds, absorbing it not as a limitation, but as another variable in the scenario. "...so?" he finally asked.

Monica smiled slightly.

Not an amused smile.

But that specific smile she gave when she already had three different plans ready in her head.

"So you’re not going as a conqueror," she said. "Not yet."

She uncrossed her arms, picking up another document.

"You’re going as... a variable."

Strax tilted his head slightly.

"...explain."

Monica slid the new paper to him, this time with more detailed maps.

"You’ll observe first. Understand how the capital works, how power is distributed, who really matters and who just occupies space."

She paused briefly, her eyes fixed on him.

"And only after that do you decide if you want to negotiate, manipulate... or destroy."

Silence.

Strax looked at the map.

Then at her.

And then he let out a small sigh.

"...this will take time."

Monica shrugged.

"Yes."

He rested his head on his hand again, looking at the ceiling for a moment.

"...annoying."

"And efficient," she added immediately.

Another brief silence settled in, but this time lighter, more balanced.

Strax looked back at her.

"And Asgard?" he asked.

Monica didn’t hesitate.

"It stays."

Simple.

Direct.

"Everything is stable. The sectors are functioning, the expansion is under control, and the leadership already knows what to do in your absence."

She tilted her head slightly.

"You don’t need to be here all the time."

That sentence made him fall silent for a second longer than usual.

Not because he disagreed.

But because... it was true.

And he knew it.

"...who takes over?" he asked. Monica raised a finger.

"Me."

Another finger.

"Albedo takes care of the external and strategic security."

Yet another.

"Agnes continues with the training."

A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

"As long as she’s not too busy with... other activities."

Strax glanced directly at her.

Monica maintained a perfectly neutral expression.

For a second.

Two.

And then she returned to the papers as if nothing had been said.

"...professional," he murmured dryly.

"Extremely," she replied without missing a beat.

The silence that followed was brief, but charged with a clear familiarity between the two.

Strax then leaned back completely in his chair, his eyes closing for a moment as he organized everything.

Capital.

Emperor.

Structure.

Time.

Variables.

When he opened his eyes again... the decision was already made.

"...right," he said.

Monica looked up.

"Right?"

He nodded slightly.

"I’ll go."

No drama.

No grand announcement.

Just... a decision.

Monica held his gaze for a few seconds, assessing—not the choice, but the state in which he was making that choice.

And then nodded back.

"Then let’s prepare your departure."

She had already started pulling out new documents, reorganizing priorities with her usual precision.

"You won’t go alone," she added.

Strax frowned slightly.

"...will you?"

"No," she confirmed. "Taking someone with you reduces suspicion and increases room for maneuver."

She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Besides... someone needs to make sure you don’t turn the capital into a crater on the first day."

He chuckled slightly.

"...no promises."

Monica completely ignored the comment.

"I already have a few options in mind," she continued. "But we can decide that later."

She paused, looking directly at him again.

"For now... go get some rest."

Strax raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Rest?"

Monica nodded.

"Yes."

A small smile appeared again.

"You’ve had a... rather active night."

Silence.

Strax stared at her for a second.

Two.

Then he sighed through his nose, rising from his chair.

"...you’re not going to put that down, are you?"

Monica looked back at the papers.

"No."