I Don't Need To Log Out

Chapter 101 Politics (1)

"Try not to step on her toes, Evan," Zack quipped.

"If I do, it's a tactical maneuver," Evan shot back, grinning.

On the dance floor, Arlon and June moved in sync, their steps steady despite the gravity of the moment.

"You're better at this than I expected," June said, glancing at him with a small smile.

"Let's just say I'm good at pretending," Arlon replied dryly.

"Well, you're doing great at pretending, then," she teased.

The dance was the least wanted part of this banquet, even less than the political part for Arlon.

But, it also came to an end. And the saviors went back to their tables without an issue.

There hadn't been any accidents like falling on the desert table, but...

"Do you know how many times you have stepped on my feet?" Carmen asked Evan.

Evan smiled sheepishly, "Sory, sorry. I am not good with the dance, you know."

"It doesn't mean you had to drag me to the dance floor. Can't you at least pretend to imitate Mr Arlon? Weren't you a Big Fan?" Carmen still chewed him out.

Well, the dancing session wasn't over, it was just that the part where they had to dance was, so they ended it and went back.

The girls didn't want to end it since all the preparation was just for the dancing part and the banquet would basically be over for them when it was over.

But since Arlon and the copy needed to go to the main table soon, they stopped.

---

The main table remained empty except for Zephyrion.

He sat with a regal ease, his sharp eyes scanning the dance floor below.

The elevated platform and carefully arranged seating gave the distinct impression that he was observing the gathering from a position of authority—watching, not participating.

After his brief dance with Lady Rael, Zephyrion wasted no time. As soon as he returned to his seat, preparations for the serious discussions began.

It wasn't something rare. Elves were similar. Even though they weren't that rare, because of their low reproduction rates, they weren't as common as Beastman or Maguses.

Or maybe the surviving members of those two races were also killed in the past timeline. He needed to learn more about them in the future.

One by one, a few more Trionians joined the table. Some had extra members who waited behind the main participant of the table like Asmond and Ejen who waited behind Birna.

---

At the head table:

"It has been so long since we last met, Lord Zephyrion," Birna said, her tone formal but warm.

Zephyrion chuckled lightly. "You're absolutely right. It's no easy feat for us administrators to leave our posts. But let's not forget, Mrs. Birna, you used to be one of us."

Birna raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk forming on her lips. "Heh... You're making it sound like I abandoned ship. I simply accepted a promotion I couldn't refuse. If that 'old man' had stepped up, I wouldn't need to leave."

Ejen nodded solemnly behind Birna, clearly in agreement with her reasoning, but Asmond barely masked his boredom, his gaze drifting toward the wine goblet in front of him.

Zephyrion leaned forward slightly, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Huh? By 'old man,' Birna, could you possibly mean..."

Before he could finish, Sheila, the enigmatic woman whose race remained a mystery, interjected. "Oh, Birna, do tell. Which 'old man' might you be referring to? Could it be—"

Birna's sharp glare cut her off mid-sentence. "You know perfectly well who I mean, Sheila. There's no need to dredge up his name here."

Sheila grinned, undeterred. "Keke! Come on, Birna. What's a little name-dropping among friends? It's not like we're talking about your lover or anything..."

The playful jab earned Sheila an even icier stare from Birna, who now looked like she might turn the entire table into a snowdrift.

Sheila, however, was unfazed. She mockingly raised her hands in defense and turned her head away, feigning innocence. "Alright, alright. Lips sealed. No need to freeze me out."

Zephyrion, clearly entertained, leaned back in his chair. "Well, that's one way to keep things lively. Shall we move on to greet our other guests before this table turns into an arena?"

Despite his light tone, the other guests at the table exchanged uneasy glances.

The tension between Birna and Sheila, though laced with humor, carried a weight that made them hesitant to interject.

Still, one by one, they stepped forward, offering their greetings.

Each interaction carried its own flavor of formality, but none dared to linger too long, lest they get caught in the crossfire of the two women's banter.