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墨書 Inktalez
"Old friend, how come you're drinking alone in a place like this? Why didn't you wait for me to join you? I even brought a few friends along to keep you company; the more, the merrier," said the old man with a white beard as he stepped out of the elevator first. The elevator was designed to close automatically if no one exited within a certain time frame.
When someone pressed the button from below, the elevator would seemingly be controlled to return to the corresponding floor. So if no one got out, it could very well close immediately and likely return downstairs, requiring everyone to queue up again before heading back up to the top floor.
Now, staying inside was not an option. The old man certainly knew how to talk. Hilbert was lost in thought, smoking a cigarette, his emotions teetering on the brink of collapse. To his surprise, the old man turned around first. At first glance, seeing the white-bearded figure brought a smile of joy; it was natural to feel happy upon reuniting with an old friend.
However, upon a second glance, as he noticed the others stepping out of the elevator behind him, Hilbert's expression shifted to one of melancholy. His face, once ready to smile, hardened instead as he slowly turned away and continued smoking his expensive cigarette. A puff of smoke followed by a sip of water made it clear that his current emotional state was extremely unstable.
"Why did you bring them all up here? Friends? I don't think they even know what's going on," Hilbert finally spoke after a long silence.
"I didn't mean to! I saw them waiting so long in the elevator; they wanted to see you. I couldn't let them down, so I brought them up. If I had known you'd be like this now, I wouldn't have let them come," replied the white-bearded man with a hint of concern in his voice. He continued, "Ah, Tequila—just hearing that name suggests sophistication. If you add a bit of sea salt and lemon, it gets even better! Savor some sea salt in your mouth before sipping on lemon juice, then take a drink of that tequila. As it slides down your throat, you'll feel like your throat is ablaze. I believe you'll come to enjoy that sensation because at least it might help you think more clearly and make better judgments. But drinking tequila on an empty stomach can lead to symptoms of poisoning if you overdo it." The old man chuckled foolishly, seemingly well-versed in alcohol; tequila gave off an image of high class that only those with some savings could afford.
Ordinary people burdened by life hardly had the time or energy—or money—to indulge in such high-end drinks.
"Brother, right now I just want to use tequila to numb myself. Even if it leads to poisoning, I'd rather be slightly unconscious for a while; that's my current mindset," Hilbert admitted with a hint of frustration, looking genuinely exhausted.
The others had all stepped out of the elevator and stood neatly to one side. They looked more like enforcers than people seeking answers.
"Stop drinking; put down the tequila. You need rest—plenty of rest and sleep. Leave everything else to your big brother," said the white-bearded man as he took the tequila from Hilbert's hands gently.
From their intimate gestures and exchanges, it was easy to deduce that they were brothers. Hilbert appeared like an old trickster.
In terms of age, he could easily pass for someone’s great-grandfather, yet no one would have guessed there was someone older than him in his family. Speaking of which, this white-bearded man had quite an impressive background; no wonder he could go straight to the top floor without anyone stopping him before.
"The people below have all been arranged; they respect my ideas. You can rest easy, my dear Walter; Wanderer's Home will gradually improve. We should all believe in the coming change," the old man with a white beard continued.
"Alright then, I leave it to you, my dear brother Walter." Hilbert stood up, visibly unstable, then pulled the keyring from his pants and walked to the door. He took a step back, his eyes red as he looked at them and added, "I'm sorry, but I need to rest now. Can we talk about this later?"
"That's fine. I'll have them keep me updated. After all, I'm acting as President now, right? I've already contacted Clinton, and by the way, he's on his way here too; he should be arriving shortly." The white-bearded Walter appeared quite capable, speaking with confidence.
"Oh? That's good to hear. I'll go take a nap then. I'm looking forward to hearing good news about your collaboration in a few days." Hilbert smiled slightly, opened the door, and stepped inside.
As the door slowly closed, Walter took a deep breath, his expression darkening. The earlier rehearsal felt somewhat insincere to him. However, to maintain morale among the troops, as a half-leader, he had to pretend that even if something happened to the leader, at least he could stabilize the current situation.
The current state of affairs was too unstable. Perhaps in the past, Hilbert had been able to control everything himself, and indeed no one could replace his absolute position back then. But now it was different; many wanted to see him fall from that position so they could take his place.
It seemed there were quite a few people with such thoughts nowadays; people were more ambitious than before. However, to solidify the current situation, all he could do was bring this brother over. It appeared that the Human Alliance intended to place more spies within the Hunter Association.
For instance, monitoring Hilbert's actions and then arranging a few more positions near those individuals—perhaps three additional positions for Vice President. Previously, Hilbert would have disagreed with this approach outright; in the past, he could have dismissed such rude requests with a single sentence. But now things were different.
These individuals nominally suggested that Hilbert, being older, should take some time to rest and leave the heavy lifting and dirty work to his subordinates. His role was to strategize from afar; as Commander-in-Chief of the military, he didn't need to be on the front lines but rather delegate tasks clearly to each member under him.
Everyone knew that this situation still harbored too many unstable factors. They had given up on impeachment plans and instead sought to gain power through undermining tactics. Too many understood that Hilbert's absence would significantly impact morale within the entire Hunter Association. That kind of influence could be deadly; thus, they retained his position, hoping he would remain like a wooden figure sitting high above them.
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