The headquarters of the Merchants' Association was unusually quiet that day. Each of the four elites carried the same expression—tense, uneasy, weighed down.On the sofa sat a man with a newspaper in his hands, not saying a word. Beside him, Freya appeared relaxed, even smiling pleasantly.A subordinate from the Western Military Command stepped in. "Sir, they've arrived!"The four elites rose, visibly relieved, exchanging quick glances before slipping out."Dr. Nightingale, you're finally here!" one of them greeted Beatrice’s group outside the door. His eyes flicked instinctively toward the meeting room."You can go now," Beatrice said with a slight nod, her gaze lingering on the four elites."Stop right there! No unauthorized personnel allowed," one of the Western Command subordinates barked and stepped in front of the three women.He jabbed a finger at Dante, his tone dripping with contempt. "You. Get inside."Gerald’s face darkened, and he stepped forward. "Are you blind, or
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