The steel door opened with a soft, almost ceremonious hydraulic whisper.

Magitek Research's main laboratory was unusually clean that evening. The cold lights had been dimmed and replaced with warm amber lighting that simulated the glow of a private dinner party. Instead of open corpses or energy cores glowing in suspension, the first thing one saw was a long, immaculate table adorned with crystal goblets, perfectly aligned cutlery, and plates still covered by silver bells. All arranged with an almost surgical attention to detail.

And at the far end of the room, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, Verstael Besithia waited. He wore his black uniform, perfectly pressed, without a speck of dust on it, though the faint oily sheen on his gloves suggested he had been manipulating something moments before. His smile was thin, inquisitive, as if he were already sizing up his guest even before seeing him fully. His eyes distilled a mixture of impatience and barely contained enthusiasm.

"Ah... finally." he murmured, as if speaking more to himself than to the visitor who had just entered. He took a couple of steps forward, his voice polite, controlled, almost melodic. "An honor to receive a visit from a direct envoy of Her Majesty. I hope the journey from the Imperial City has not been too... monotonous."

He said it politely, but the pause after the word "monotonous" carried a subtle, elegant note of mockery, like someone playing with language as with scalpels.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing something special for this occasion." He indicated the table with an open, theatrical gesture. A quiet evening, far from the hustle and bustle of politics... and comfortable enough for us to talk about progress, results... and possibilities. He approached with a slow, controlled gait, taking a glass for himself and gently turning it between his fingers, still not drinking.

"The data you've come to review is ready, of course. Every experiment documented, every cell tagged, every soul... analyzed. But before we dive into numbers and flesh, I thought it appropriate to share something more civilized. After all, even science deserves dignified pauses, don't you think?"

A faint laugh escaped his throat, dry, measured, worthy of his deep, raspy voice despite his still youthful and attractive appearance. His voice lowered slightly, like someone confiding a secret:

"And who knows... perhaps you will discover that my advances are more useful to the throne than Your Majesty imagined."

Then, for the first time, Verstael turned his full attention to the visitor. His smile remained the same, courteous. But his eyes spoke differently.

I observe. I calculate. I wait.

"Please... take a seat."