Step One: Build the family.
Step Two: Infiltrate Eden.
Step Three: Earn a Stella.
Step Four: Get an invitation to the most dangerous tea party disguised as a gala.
It had all gone exactly to plan.
Which terrified Loid more than any sniper scope ever had.
The Founder's Day Gala was a cornerstone of Eden Academy's prestige: part celebration, part political theater, and entirely a test of social espionage. For the fortunate few whose children had earned a Stella, the invitation was equal parts honor and a glowing target.
And Loid Forger—spy, killer, amateur pastry chef, and reluctant father—had just received one.
[Mission Objective: Infiltrate Gala. Establish First Direct Contact with Donovan Desmond.]
[Bonus Objective: Avoid National Scandal, Identity Exposure, or Unwanted Dancing.]
[Gala Dress Code: "Tasteful Authority." You are encouraged to wear a sweater vest.]
"Why do I have to stay home?" Anya pouted, arms crossed, dressed in a tiny ballgown she absolutely wasn't invited to wear.
"Because this event is for parents only," Loid explained for the fifth time, adjusting his cufflinks.
"But I helped stop a terrorist! I should get two tickets!"
"You got a Stella. And a cake. That's the exchange rate."
Anya slumped dramatically across the couch. "Faaaake familyyyy rules."
Yor, meanwhile, emerged from the bedroom in a midnight-blue dress that hugged her like a secret. She looked radiant. She also looked terrified.
"I've never been to one of these before," she whispered. "Do I bow? Curtsy? Stab someone?"
"Only if the music's terrible," Loid said flatly.
She smiled nervously. "Okay… I brought my small knife, just in case."
[Partner Status: Yor – Mildly Armed. Confidence Level: 64%. Stunning Bonus: +15% Public Distraction Potential.]
Loid adjusted her necklace with hands steadier than they felt.
They weren't just playing dress-up anymore.
This was the first step toward Desmond.
The man who held the key to Operation Strix. And possibly the strings to a new war.
And Loid couldn't afford mistakes.
Especially not ones that looked like his wife smiling up at him like she believed in him.
The Gala.
Held in the great domed Hall of Unity—a place so elite even the chandeliers had security clearance.
Parents murmured over champagne. Politicians loitered behind smile-curtains. The piano player had more medals than Loid.
And at the center of it all, floating through the room like a shadow dipped in wealth and silk:
Donovan Desmond.
Reserved. Distant. Enigmatic. A ghost with a pocket square.
[Target Acquired. Proximity Required for Conversation.]
[Obstacles: Security Detail, Social Barriers, Extremely Punchable Son.]
Yor leaned in. "That's him?"
Loid nodded. "Don't stare too long. He's sharp."
"He looks like a fancy walnut."
"…What?"
"His face is very crinkly. Like he's always thinking about betrayal. Or fiber."
[Yor's Commentary: 97% Accurate. Surprisingly Insightful.]
The first approach was through small talk.
Loid maneuvered between groups like a silk-cloaked predator, joining conversations just long enough to be remembered, but not noticed.
He complimented a senator's cufflinks. Nodded politely at a judge with a terrible wig. Listened to a minister explain his theory on pineapple exports.
And eventually, as planned…
Melinda Desmond found him.
"Mr. Forger," she purred, glass raised. "You clean up well."
"Credit goes to my wife," he said, nodding toward Yor, who was very elegantly pretending not to case the exits.
"I hope you'll meet my husband tonight," Melinda added lightly. "He doesn't enjoy parties. But he respects appearances."
Loid gave a carefully calibrated chuckle. "That's all any of us do, isn't it?"
[Social Bridge Established. Target Engagement Likely Within 10 Minutes.]
And then it happened.
A ripple through the room. Heads turned. Conversation paused.
Donovan Desmond entered.
He was quiet. Understated. But everything shifted around him, like gravity bowed just a little harder when he walked by.
Loid's spine straightened. Yor subtly shifted her stance. Melinda's expression changed.
Not fear. Not love.
Something older.
Respect… tangled with something colder.
"Mr. Desmond," Loid said, stepping forward as naturally as breathing. "A pleasure. I'm Loid Forger. My daughter was just accepted into Eden."
Desmond turned slowly. His eyes were a calculation behind glass.
"Ah. The Stella child."
"Yes."
"I hear she tackled a criminal."
"She takes after her mother."
Yor waved awkwardly from behind a decorative pillar. "Hello!"
[Contact Made: Donovan Desmond – Awareness Level: Neutral. Suspicion: Minimal.]
Desmond studied him for a beat too long.
Then offered a faint smile.
"Perhaps we'll talk more soon."
The conversation ended before it truly began.
But that was fine.
This was a long game.
And Loid knew how to wait.
[Mission Progress: Operation Strix – Phase II: Contact Established. Network Expansion Required.]
[New Objective Unlocked: "Be Invited to Desmond's Inner Circle."]
[System Reward: Suit Upgrade – Hidden Compartments + Social Buff: Charisma +1.]
That night, as they returned home—
Yor kicked off her heels, sighed deeply, and dropped her knife in the umbrella stand.
"Did we succeed?" she asked.
Loid loosened his tie. "We made contact. And we're in position for the next step."
She smiled, sleepy but proud. "Then I think you deserve cake."
Anya was already asleep on the couch, surrounded by toy sharks.
And for a second, in the dim kitchen light, with Yor laughing at her own baking and Anya snoring through a sugar crash…
Loid let himself feel something warm.
Like maybe, just maybe—
This mission wasn't just a mission anymore.