Seeing that Patricia’s expression wasn’t looking too good, Morin didn’t press the issue further.
He couldn’t exactly tell her that in a few years, someone might invent mature vacuum tubes, rapidly turning radio communication technology into a cheap, everyday commodity and snatching away the vast majority of the market share…
That would be too cruel. This blonde tsundere would definitely cry.
In fact, in Morin’s view, the greatest advantage of magitech was that it used peculiar methods to solve 21st-century technical problems in the early 20th century. However, the impending resource depletion destined this technology to lack long-term viability.
But to prevent the dinner atmosphere from becoming too depressing, Morin quickly changed the subject.
“Of course, this doesn’t mean magitech will be finished tomorrow.” Morin looked at the somewhat startled Patricia and softened his tone. “It will be a long process—maybe decades, maybe a century… Until then, due to its special characteristics, magitech communication will still have its value, and Miss Seeckt, you can still make a lot of money from it.”
Patricia remained silent for a long time before letting out a soft sigh.
“You always see things others don’t, Morin…”
Her gaze toward him grew complex, carrying a trace of inexplicable disappointment.
“You’re right. Perhaps I really should think carefully about my future path.”
“Alright, let’s not be so heavy,” Morin smiled, raising his glass. “At least in our lifetime, we’ll still see the glory of magitech. Come, a toast… to magic and science.”
“To magic and science.”
Four glasses clinked lightly in the air, making a crisp sound.
Morin then informed Patricia that her brother, Ludwig, had been seconded to the instruction unit recently and had returned to Dresden with them. The unit was currently taking leave in batches, so he would have Ludwig visit the estate in a couple of days.
Hearing this, Patricia’s attention was finally diverted, and she curiously asked why Ludwig was seconded to the instruction unit.
After everyone chatted about other topics for a while, the dinner finally came to an end.
Morin’s astonishing appetite once again refreshed everyone’s perception—after finishing three full main courses, he even polished off a massive portion of dessert.
Helga looked at the stack of empty plates and couldn’t help whispering to Patricia, “Patricia, do you think the boss eats everyone else’s food in the army? I heard the military rations are strictly portioned per person…”
“Hmm, very likely…” Patricia nodded in deep agreement.
Since they ate and chatted simultaneously, it was getting quite late by the time dinner ended. Using travel fatigue as an excuse, Morin took his leave early.
“Alright, since we’re full and satisfied.” Morin glanced at the wall clock; the hour hand pointed to half-past nine. It was indeed quite late. “I should go rest… Sitting on a train all day, my bones are falling apart.”
Actually, his mental state was so good he could run a full marathon right now, but it was just an excuse.
His gaze casually swept over Cecilia. She was holding her teacup, looking out at the night scenery rather than at him, but that fleeting smile was accurately conveyed to Morin.
It was a secret signal belonging only to the two of them.
“It is indeed late.” Cecilia set down her teacup, stood up, and naturally smoothed her skirt. “Helga, Patricia, you two should rest early as well… especially Helga. No staying up late drawing blueprints tonight.”
“Understood…” Helga mumbled reluctantly, but under Cecilia’s gentle yet unquestionable gaze, she obediently nodded.
After bidding each other goodnight, they returned to their respective rooms.
Morin went to his long-vacant room and took a quick shower. He deliberately used cooler water, but it failed to extinguish the fire burning ever brighter within him. He simply turned up the heat to “add fuel to the fire.”
After drying off, Morin changed into a loose robe. Instead of lying down immediately, he sat on the edge of the bed, quietly looking out the window.
He had always been a patient hunter, whether on the battlefield or in the current situation.
The footsteps in the corridor gradually faded, and the entire estate fell into the stillness of late night. Only the faint sound of the Elbe River flowing in the distance could be heard.
After about half an hour, estimating that Helga and Patricia should be asleep, Morin stood up. Like an agile feline, he silently opened his door and slipped into the dim corridor.
His sharp perception confirmed everyone was staying put in their rooms, and there were no maids in the hallway.
Navigating the familiar path to the carved wooden door at the end of the corridor, Morin found it unlocked. The handle turned easily—clearly, the person inside had been waiting for him.
Pushing the door open, a faint botanical fragrance wafted over.
Only a bedside lamp was lit, the warm yellow light creating an intimate and cozy atmosphere.
Cecilia was leaning against the headboard, holding a book, seemingly engrossed in it. She had changed from her velvet lounging gown into a silk nightdress. The smooth fabric clung to her mature, graceful curves, shimmering alluringly under the light.
Seeing Morin enter, she put down her book. Her grayish-blue eyes seemed to hold a pool of spring water, so gentle one could drown in them.
“I thought you’d wait until dawn to dare come over, Fritz~” Cecilia said softly, her tone carrying obvious teasing.
“How could that be…”
Morin reached back and locked the door. Seeing his cautious movements, Cecilia couldn’t help but chuckle, making Morin feel even more fired up.
He crossed the room in a few strides. The desire he had suppressed for who knows how long completely erupted at this moment. Without any unnecessary words, he leaned down and pressed a deep kiss onto those rosy lips.
“Mmm…” Cecilia moaned softly, her arms naturally wrapping around his neck.
This kiss wasn’t gentle and refined like before, but carried a wild predation and urgent demand. Morin’s breath was scalding, his movements exuding the oppressive power brought by his muscular frame, making Cecilia feel as if she were enveloped in a raging fire.
After a long while, their lips parted. Both of them were breathing heavily.
Cecilia’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes hazy as she looked at Morin mere inches away. Her fingers gently caressed his resolute face, her fingertips tracing his strong jawline.
“You seem to have changed, Fritz,” she murmured softly, calling him by the nickname belonging only to them. “You’ve become… stronger, and it seems, more dangerous.”
“Don’t you like it? Sister… Cecilia~” Morin caught her hand and kissed her palm gently.
“No…” Hearing the address “Sister,” Cecilia’s body trembled visibly, a flash of fiery heat in her eyes. “I love it to death.”
This night was destined to be long.
Morin seemed intent on pouring all the stress accumulated on the battlefield, along with the drug-enhanced energy that had no outlet, into this gentle harbor. And Cecilia responded to him with unprecedented passion, like a blooming rose, unreservedly accepting this stormy affection.
This night, Morin finally turned the tables!
When everything settled down, it was already the latter half of the night. The two took another shower and accidentally delayed quite a bit of time again…
Feeling utterly refreshed and wide awake, Morin leaned against the headboard, holding Cecilia—who was so exhausted she didn’t want to lift a finger—in his arms. Her long hair scattered across his chest, her breathing slowly evening out.
“Something’s wrong, Fritz… something’s wrong with you…”
“Sister Cecilia, what’s wrong?”
Cecilia rolled her eyes at him and didn’t elaborate.
Morin gently stroked her smooth back. The restlessness in his heart had completely subsided, replaced by a deep peace and satisfaction. Before having grander goals, besides the exchange rate of the Imperial Mark, perhaps this was what he desperately wanted to protect.
“Fritz…” Cecilia, still awake in his arms, kept her eyes closed, her voice languid. “How long are you staying this time?”
Morin’s hand subconsciously slid towards the front slimes, his tone somewhat uncertain. “I’m not sure yet. Until I receive new orders, I might just stay at the station in Dresden.”
Cecilia nodded, saying unsurprisedly, “It seems the fighting on the Western Front is more stable than I thought. The Gauls’ surrender is only a matter of time… No wonder the Imperial Army has already begun transferring troops from the West.”
“Sister Cecilia, where did you get this information?” Morin asked, somewhat surprised, as even the instruction unit hadn’t received definitive orders yet.
“Just some friends I frequently deal with at the General Staff. Falkenstein United Industries voluntarily reduced profits considerably during wartime to ease the military’s burden. In this situation, one always hears some rumors.”
As she spoke, Cecilia shifted into a more comfortable position in his arms, then complained slightly, “Our overseas branch offices are under increasing pressure now. Most of our security personnel have essentially been absorbed into local garrison forces… After Rus fell into its current turmoil, overland transport of goods to Central Asia was already affected. Now there are rumors that the Ottomans are in contact with the Britannians, so the Red Sea route might also be affected…”
“Sister Cecilia, do you mean the Ottomans might choose to join the Entente?” Morin asked, somewhat surprised. Perhaps due to her status, he found Cecilia’s attention to the global situation significantly deeper than the other two girls’.
“Of course, that’s the worst-case scenario… Otherwise, why do you think the Empire suddenly plans to intervene in the Balkans?”
“?!”
“You don’t need to look so surprised. If I couldn’t even see this much, how could I steer the development direction of Falkenstein United Industries?” Cecilia chuckled, clearly enjoying Morin’s astonished expression.
Next, Cecilia roughly outlined the situation of Falkenstein United Industries in North Africa, Central Asia, and South Asia to Morin—which was, in fact, the Saxon Empire’s situation in these regions. From a certain perspective, Falkenstein United Industries was already considered the Saxon Empire’s overseas “white glove” proxy.
According to her description, these places had long devolved into a mess due to the intervention of the Europa imperialist powers. Besides contesting with the Britannians in West and North Africa, the Saxon Empire continuously had friction with other nations in Central Asia.
And the Britannians, unsurprisingly, were bogged down in the Kingdom of Afghanistan, the classic “Graveyard of Empires.” Although the sudden collapse of the Rus Empire lessened the Britannians’ competitive pressure there, as Saxons recently began secretly funding Afghan resistance forces, the Britannians once again plunged into an endless early-stage “counter-insurgency war.”
As for South Asia, it had become a battleground for Britannia, Gaul, and Saxony, making it much more tragic than the world before Morin’s transmigration. The Kalmar Union controlled a large number of South Sea island nations, including Sri Lanka and Indonesia.
What? You ask about Southeast Asian countries?
Sorry, all covered by the Myththal barrier, completely unknown. Anyway, whenever Morin moved his system map over there, a prompt would pop up: 【Let’s explore this area later】.
Just like that, after a grand battle, the two long-separated lovers inexplicably ended up discussing the international situation. Cecilia’s insights in this area obviously surpassed most adult men in this world, allowing Morin to enjoy a satisfying session of “late-night keyboard politics.”
Finally, after agreeing to go to a theater in the city the next evening to watch a stage play, the two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It was Cecilia’s most peaceful night’s sleep in a long time.
The next day, Morin basically spent the daytime discussing light weapon issues with Helga. He learned from her that the various domestic arsenals in Saxony were currently in a state of “a hundred flowers blooming,” developing quite a few brand-new weapons. While some lacked practicality, there was indeed much technological innovation.
Additionally, Morin learned that the Mauser arsenal seemed to be developing a heavy support weapon, said to be specifically designed to deal with elite enemy targets like heavy infantry, knight squires, and shielded mages at long distances, and could even be used to attack the joint sections of Armored Knights.
Although Helga didn’t know the details, Morin roughly recalled it in his mind and guessed Mauser was probably bringing the Tankgewehr (Anti-Tank Rifle), which was supposed to be equipped in 1918, to the table early…
Time flew by, and soon it was afternoon.
As the evening sun bathed the banks of the Elbe River, the entire Falkenstein Estate became busy.
Morin stood before the full-length mirror, adjusting his collar. The service uniform he returned in had been ironed by the maids, and Luna had sent someone to the instruction unit’s station to retrieve Morin’s large collection of medals.
The Blue Max, Gold Spellbreaker Badge, Gold Infantry Assault Badge, Bronze Close Combat Clasp, Air Assault Badge, Black Wound Badge… plus a bunch of campaign commemorative medals, basically filling his entire chest.
When he finished tidying up and came down to the hall, his breath caught.
Despite being mentally prepared, the scene before him still delivered an impact.
Cecilia stood at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a pale gold off-the-shoulder evening gown, the silk fabric shimmering nobly under the lights. She had her long hair pinned up, revealing a graceful swan neck, and the choker and dazzling necklace further accentuated her snow-white skin. The unique charm of a mature woman radiated a fatal temptation, like a perfectly ripe peach.
On her left, Helga awkwardly tugged at her skirt. She wore a more traditional deep red evening gown today. Although the style was relatively conservative, it couldn’t contain the girl’s astonishing “talents.” Her magnificent scale forced the originally demure gown to present a breathtaking visual effect.
On the right, the blonde heiress Patricia chose a slim-fitting light pink gown. With her hands folded in front of her and her chin raised slightly, her long legs, even hidden beneath the skirt, revealed their astonishing proportions through the inadvertently stretched lines.
When these three beauties appeared fully dressed before Morin, he felt he didn’t have enough eyes to capture everyone’s shining points. Ultimately, he summarized their characteristics in his mind—Smooth, Big, and Long.
“Dumbfounded?”
Cecilia walked up to him, waving a lace-gloved hand in front of his eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “Lieutenant Colonel Fritz, mind your expression, you’re about to drool.”
“Ahem…” Morin recovered and solemnly performed a hand-kissing bow. “I was just sighing that I should probably bring a gun tonight. After all, walking down the street with three such ladies, there’s a high probability someone will challenge me to a duel~”
“Hmph~ Smooth talker,” Patricia snorted, but the blush on her cheeks betrayed her good mood.
“Let’s go, the cars are outside.”
Two black radiant crystal sedans navigated the bustling streets of Dresden, finally stopping in front of the brilliantly lit Semperoper.
This masterpiece of 19th-century opera house architecture, blending Renaissance and Baroque styles, was the liveliest place in the entire city tonight. Impeccably dressed gentlemen and bejeweled ladies exchanged pleasantries on the steps, the air filled with the scent of expensive perfume and cigars.
Only when standing here did one completely forget the country was going through an unprecedented war. In the eyes of others, this was a gathering place for Imperial elites. But in Morin’s eyes, he only saw bundles of packaged military funding… sadly with no current way to withdraw them.
When the cars stopped and Morin’s group stepped out, a brief hush fell over the noisy entrance.
Cecilia von Falkenstein was already a celebrity in aristocratic circles, and the young officer beside her, wearing the Blue Max on his chest, instantly drew everyone’s gaze.
“That’s Madame Falkenstein? Good heavens, she actually came…” “Is that Lieutenant Colonel Morin?” “Getting the Blue Max at such a young age… I heard he’s practically a god of death on the Western Front.” “My god, he’s even more handsome in person than in the newspaper photos…”
Whispers came from all directions.
Morin remained calm, looking straight ahead, his military boots clicking sharply on the marble floor. He could feel countless pairs of eyes evaluating him. Cecilia and Patricia were completely at ease, with the former occasionally exchanging glances with business partners she knew.
But Helga obviously hadn’t seen such a spectacle. She felt the gazes of the noblewomen piercing her like needles, making it hard to walk. She subconsciously shrank her shoulders, her steps somewhat erratic.
Just then, a warm hand gently hooked her arm.
“Keep your back straight, Helga.” Patricia’s voice whispered in her ear. It was soft, but carried a reassuring strength for Helga at that moment. “You are the chief designer of the Schmeisser Company, a genius in the Empire’s military industry. These women who only know how to drink afternoon tea aren’t even fit to tie your shoes… Don’t embarrass your ‘boss’~”
Helga paused, turning to look at Patricia.
The usually haughty young lady had her chin raised slightly like a proud swan, sweeping her gaze over the crowd with a look of near contempt.
“Oh… oh!” Helga took a deep breath, mimicking Patricia, and tried her best to puff out her chest.
Hearing the commotion behind him, the corners of Morin’s mouth curved up slightly. It seemed the two girls got along even better than he imagined.
Led by the ushers, the group soon entered a private box on the second floor. As the heavy red velvet curtains were pulled back, the magnificent theater came into full view.
The tense Helga finally breathed a sigh of relief, while Morin smiled and poured her some water to calm her nerves.
Tonight’s performance was the two-act comic opera The Barber of Seville, composed by Maestro Rossini from the Kingdom of Sardinia (the predecessor of the Papal Theocracy). This opera was an absolute blockbuster in this era, a staple for major theaters. Both the name and the setting… coincidentally shared a connection with Morin—it was where he transmigrated into this world— Seville in the Kingdom of Aragon.
And this piece, hailed alongside Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro as the twin peaks of comedy, could be considered a “Europa Model Play,” rotating through major opera houses.
As the theater lights dimmed, the orchestra began the famous overture. The curtain rose, stage lights illuminating the actors. The group soon focused on the superb performance.
However, for Morin, this classical opera sung in Sardinian, full of misunderstandings and coincidences, held far more hypnotic effect than entertainment value. This uncultured guy basically spent the time admiring Cecilia’s alluring figure, earning him several annoyed, stealthy punches from her.
The lighting in the box was dim, with only the faint glow reflected from the stage outlining their silhouettes.
Helga and Patricia leaned against the railing, watching with relish. Cecilia leaned back in her chair, lazily fanning herself with a feather fan.
Morin’s fingers tapped lightly on his knee, then seemingly inadvertently slid sideways. Under the cover of the thin velvet shawl, his hand accurately covered Cecilia’s soft hand resting on her lap.
Cecilia’s body stiffened slightly. She completely didn’t expect Morin to be this bold. She turned her head, glaring at him in the dim light, her eyes carrying a warning: Behave, we’re in public.
Morin acted as if he didn’t understand. Not only did he not withdraw his hand, but he escalated. His fingers deftly intertwined with hers, his thumb gently caressing the fine lines of her palm.
The rough, calloused touch transmitted directly to Cecilia’s heart through the sensitive nerve endings in her palm, making her feel like an electric current was passing through her, leaving half her body numb.
“You…”
Cecilia bit her lower lip, trying to pull her hand back, but Morin held tight, giving her no chance to escape. Moreover, his other hand started acting up too, tracing the armrest to quietly climb onto her back, lightly brushing the skin at the edge of her backless gown.
Cecilia felt her breathing turn erratic.
In front of them, Helga and Patricia were still letting out low gasps at the climax of the plot, completely unaware of the silent battle being waged by the two adults behind them.
This secret intimacy under the watchful eyes of the public carried a strong sense of immorality and thrill, making Cecilia’s heart race uncontrollably. Her cheeks grew hot, the heat from the previous night’s memories surging up from deep within her body once again.
“Little rascal…”
Cecilia scolded in a voice only the two of them could hear. With a snap, she closed her fan and rapped it hard against Morin’s thigh.
It was a heavy blow; Morin’s eyebrow twitched in pain, but his hands didn’t stop, instead squeezing her palm even more audaciously.
On stage, they were singing the famous Largo al factotum, the cheerful rhythm echoing in the theater. But Cecilia couldn’t hear a word of it. She felt like a taut string, liable to snap under Morin’s teasing at any moment. If this continued, she would truly make a fool of herself in front of her two younger “sisters.”
“Phew…”
Cecilia took a deep breath, forcefully withdrew her hand, and stood up. The chair scraped softly against the floor, causing Patricia in front to look back.
“What’s wrong, Sister Cecilia?”
“Ahem, it’s nothing…”
Cecilia’s voice was a bit tight. She used her fan to cover half her face, hiding her slightly flushed complexion. “It’s a bit stuffy in here, I’m going out for some fresh air.”
Without waiting for a response, she lifted her skirt, turned, and walked out. As she passed Morin, her watery eyes gouged him fiercely, carrying a trace of embarrassed anger… and another implication.
Morin understood perfectly. He straightened his uniform and calmly stood up. “I’ll go keep her company. You two keep watching.”
“I’ll go get some fresh air too…” Helga also tried to stand, but was pulled back by Patricia. In the dim lighting, Helga didn’t notice Patricia’s bright red face for a moment.
“Helga, stay and watch this exciting part with me. I’ll go out for fresh air with you later…”
“Alright~”
The instant the box door closed, the clamor of the opera was shut away.
The corridor was covered in thick carpets, the crystal wall sconces emitting a soft, ambiguous glow. Cecilia held Morin’s hand and walked toward an empty section of the corridor, looking back at him.
The hallway lights hit the side of her face, gilding her entire silhouette in a golden outline. In that instant, to Morin, she was breathtakingly beautiful, like a goddess stepping out of an oil painting—noble and pure, yet tainted with earthly desire due to her slightly erratic breathing and hazy eyes.
The two quickly reached a rarely used VIP washroom at the end of the corridor. Morin followed unhurriedly, watching her swaying back.
Near the door, Cecilia suddenly stopped. She turned around, leaning against the carved wooden door. She extended a hand toward Morin, crooking her finger slightly.
“Come here, Fritz.”
Her voice was husky and languid, like a siren’s song carrying irresistible magic.
“Help me loosen this damn corset… I can barely breathe.”
The fire deep in Morin’s eyes ignited instantly. He strode forward, pushed the door open, and pulled Cecilia inside with a backhand motion.
Click.
The sound of the lock falling was exceptionally clear in the quiet space.
Meanwhile, in the staff corridor on the first floor of the opera house, several men dressed as ushers but bearing serious expressions gathered together.
After confirming no one else was around, one whispered to the others: “The important figures on the list are all here today. If we are to strike, this is the best opportunity.”
“Including the Radiant Crystal Queen? Are we sure we want to target her? Won’t that provoke a massive reaction from the Saxons?”
“There will definitely be a reaction, but if we can eliminate her, Falkenstein United Industries will certainly fall into short-term chaos, potentially triggering a chain reaction affecting all of Saxony…” The usher who appeared to be the leader paused, then continued, “If today’s operation succeeds, it will provide extra assistance to the Empire’s subsequent military campaigns.”
“Right, I have a situation update…” Just then, another usher recalled something. “When I was at the entrance, I heard others say she didn’t just bring the two female companions on the expected list, but also a male companion who came along temporarily. He seems to be a Saxon officer…”
“Can you confirm his identity?” The leader frowned. He disliked variables in an operation, but it seemed the first one had already appeared before the operation even began.
“Based on others’ descriptions, and the Blue Max medal he’s wearing… it’s highly likely the ‘Mage Killer’…”
When the usher uttered the words “Mage Killer,” everyone’s breathing audibly stopped for a moment. They quickly exchanged glances, shock and disbelief in their eyes.
“Why is that guy here too? Hasn’t he been missing for a long time?”
“Should we cancel the operation? We might not be his match on our own…”
“No… the operation continues. It’s very difficult for the people on the target list to gather simultaneously like today. If we miss this chance, we’ll have to take them out one by one, which will only be harder.”
After a moment of thought, the leader spoke decisively: “Success or death… Go notify the backup team. Have them join today’s operation directly. We won’t wait.”
“Yes, sir.”
“For the… Queen!”