Tobias was fighting the system. He searched through every circuit, every logic chain, every safetyyer. Minutes passed. His brow was soaked in sweat.


    Everything was perfect.


    Every system reported normal. Every parameter was within optimal range.


    And yet the machine had fallen out of the sky.


    Ragnarughed again, sharp and cruel. "Face it, Tobias. You won''t finish a mobile suit this year either. Same failure. Same ending."


    Alex spoke casually, as if changing the subject. “Sofina, have you heard about the fake driver case in Eden Group? You should be careful about things like that."


    "What?" Sofina turned to him, confused.


    "A driver once pretended to work for Eden Group," Alex continued calmly.


    "He turned out to be apetitor''s spy. Once inside the vehicle, he installed a virus that triggered a controlled malfunction. I heard it nearly caused a fatal ident and was meant to sabotage one of Eden Group''s most important clients."


    “Alright,” Sofina nodded, still unsure why Alex brought it up.


    But Tobias froze.


    His eyes snapped to a different subsystem. The driver authorization software.


    He dug in fast.


    And there it was.


    Unauthorized code. Hiddenmands. A false failure protocol uploaded through driver ess-designed to make the mobile suit pretend to malfunction.


    "Damn it!" Tobias hissed.


    The driver had sabotaged the Phantom from the inside.


    His hands moved with precision now. No hesitation.


    He revoked the driver''s authority instantly, wiped the infectedyer, and activated full Al control. He reroutedmand to the autonomousbat core and issued a single directive:


    Finish thep.


    On the stadium screen, the Phantom shuddered.


    Then its systems roared back to life.


    Thrusters ignited. Stabilizers locked in. The mobile suit surged upward and shot forward, elerating hard-faster than before, faster than anyone expected.


    It was already toote.


    The Phantom had lost too much time. There was no catching the other mobile suits. Everyone understood what that meantst ce.


    "Ragnar," Tobias turned slowly, "you paid someone to sit inside my machine and stab it from the inside."


    Ragnar chuckled, unimpressed. "Careful, boy. That''s a serious usationing from someone whose useless mobile suit just fell out of the sky."


    "My suit didn''t fall," Tobias said quietly. "It was betrayed."


    Ragnar shrugged. "That''s business."


    His smile twisted. "Betrayed or not, you lost because you can''t manage your own people. me your stupidity. me your weakness. You''re a loser with no money and blind loyalty. Too many holes. Too easy to exploit."


    Tobias understood the truth of it. In war, every weakness would be exposed, and every opening would be exploited. Life in Prussia was about winning by any means necessary. Betrayal only happened to those foolish enough to leave themselves vulnerable.


    Still, even with the Phantom finishingst, it wasn''t aplete loss. For the first time in years, Bluthelm hadpleted a fullp without copsing.


    That alone felt like survival.


    After nearly an hour ofpetition, the first stage of the three-stage tournament came to an end.


    Then Belinda stood up.


    "Tobias," she said sharply, "you''re part of the reunion staff. You''ll handle the auction this time with me. Let''s open the gifts one by one, estimate their value, and if anyone wants them, we start the bidding."


    She reached for the first box.


    "Let''s start with this one."


    Belinda opened it quickly. Insidey an old scroll. Her face twisted in disappointment.


    "What is this?" she scoffed. "Who brings a piece of paper this old?"


    Someone from the reunion spoke up. "Can''t you see it? It''s a painting."


    "Duh." Belinda clicked her tongue. She unrolled the scroll and nced at it, thenughed coldly.


    "What the hell is this? Some rotten old painting? I bet it''s worth one or two hundred dors at most."


    Tobias stepped forward. "Not everything can be measured by money. What matters is sincerity. The goodwill behind the gift."


    "Oh, spare me your holy nonsense," Belinda snapped. "I''m warning you-stop associating with ssmates like this. Theyve got the nerve to bring a cheap little drawing that wouldn''t even cover their meal at this event."


    Belinda squinted at the artwork. “Is this supposed to be abstract?"


    “No,” the ssmate said quickly. "It''s symbolic."


    "Symbolic of what?"


    He hesitated. "History. Heritage."


    Belindaughed. "Ah. That exins why it looks like something history already tried to forget."


    She lifted her chin coldly. "Now tell me who brought this before I check the security cameras."


    One of the ssmates raised his hand awkwardly. "Uh... that''s mine. You know what people say. It''s an antique. It could be very valuable. It''s been passed down from my ancestors."


    Belindaughed outright. "Oh, please. Do you think your ancestor''s underwear is an antique too?"


    She waved the scroll dismissively. "Next time, bring something actually expensive instead of this trash."


    "Oh, what an asshole you are," the man shot back. "We''re not obligated to give expensive gifts."


    "Exactly," Belinda snapped without hesitation. "People like you are the reason this reunion keeps running at a deficit. Have some shame."


    "He came with good intentions," another ssmate shot back. "What''s wrong with that? Can''t you show a little kindness for him evening here?"


    "For what?" Belinda fired back. "For making the reunion lose money?" She scoffed.


    "And kindness? Please. I don''t exist to make you happy."


    Tobias''s expression darkened. His patience finally broke.


    "Belinda, are you really that much of a snob?"


    Belinda spun on him, furious.


    "Tobias Bluthelm, how dare you say


    that?" Her voice sharpened like a de Me? A snob? If I were really a snob, why wo


    would be engaged to


    you, a pauper?" She sneered.


    "Don''t forget—I''m your fiancée. I''m the one trying to hold up yourpany while Bluthelm crawls toward bankruptcy."


    Tobias froze. His mouth opened, then closed. Embarrassment burned across his face. He had no words.


    "Fine," Belinda said coldly. "Who even wants this ugly painting anyway? Let''s start


    at one hundred dors."


    The bidding began.


    Slow. Painfully slow.


    One hundred. One-fifty. Two hundred. The price crawled upward like a dying snail, finally stalling around four hundred dors.


    Alex leaned slightly toward Sofina and bowed his head. "You should bid on the painting."


    "Why?" Sofina whispered back.


    "I''ve seen that painter''s name before,” Alex said calmly. "At the Paradise Hotel. The founder there absessively. That painting should be worth at least twenty thousand."


    ects antique works


    "What?" Sofina''s eyes widened in shock.


    "Bid,” Alex said. “Then sell it to Paradise Hotel. I promise they''ll pay you well."


    Sofina raised her hand. "Five hundred dors."


    Belinda shot her a scornful look. "Do you even have that kind of money? Why don''t


    you use it to pay your electricity bill instead of buying junk?"


    Renata frowned sharply. "Do you have to be a bully to everyone?"


    “Again," Belinda snapped. "I didn''t grow up to please people. I speak the truth—


    honestly."


    She lifted her chin. "If people can''t handle truth these days, then damn it, this world deserves to rot under fake people like you."


    "Fake people?" Renata snapped, fury shing in her eyes.


    "What?" Belinda shot back.


    "Your heart is a fragile jade cup—one harsh word and it shatters?" Her lips curled


    into a cruel smile. "I''d happily break it and grind the pieces under my heel whileughing."