Monica didn't immediately answer. Countless thoughts ran through her mind as the entirety of her political knowledge worked toward a singular goal. She had to decide how to handle Francis, which wasn't as easy as it sounded.
Francis' family was extremely wealthy, basically at the same level as Monica's. Talks about their possible engagements had gone on for years, ever since Monica's childhood. The Alstair family had been the main force behind those offers, but the Solodrey family had always played along due to the value such a political alliance could have.
Of course, none of those talks had ever taken into consideration Monica's opinion or Francis' behavior. Their parents and the trustworthy figures in their inner circles knew about those social struggles, but no one had given them much thought due to the descendants' young age.
Nothing had ever been set in stone, and Monica's parents had always pushed her toward better suitors. Still, that effort had never been too forceful since no one expected Khan to join the fray. The Solodrey family believed to have far more time to plan Monica's future, but Khan had ruined all that.
Khan's involvement had spread chaos inside a big faction of the Solodrey family, and the Alstair family had suffered from a similar fate, at least when it came to the forces betting on Francis. Monica's public relationship had dealt a significant political blow, ruining plans older than her.
That and more ran through Monica's mind as she tried to find the ideal approach. Refusing Francis had been easy in the past due to her explicit unavailability. Yet, things had changed now. Her reputation wasn't as pristine as before, and the slightest missteps would inevitably send ripples toward Khan.
"I'm coming down," Monica eventually announced through the flat's speaker before studying the hall. Her gaze remained lost even when she found her shoes, and seeing her reflection on one of the metal surfaces made her stop in her tracks.
Monica donned her shoes and inspected her tracksuit before running toward a bathroom. The hesitation intensified when she reached a proper mirror. Her clothes, hair, and general appearance were unworthy of her social status, but making Francis wait wasn't an option.
"It's trouble, isn't it?" George broke his silence when Monica left the bathroom to head for the elevator.
"Just stay here," Monica ordered while her eyes continued to dart left and right. "I'll deal with it."
"Do you need help?" George asked.
"It's better if I go alone," Monica remained vague. "It would be dangerous for you down there."
Monica wasn't trying to belittle George's prowess. Her tone carried no mockery or scorn. George's family was outclassed down there, and eventual rash reactions could create immense problems for him.
George understood that words were useless. He crossed his arms and watched the elevator bring Monica downstairs. Yet, as soon as the lift stopped, he headed for the menus on the walls to see what the cameras had captured.
A simple search on the network linked the face on the footage to the problematic man that Khan had mentioned a few times. George was aware of Francis, and recognizing him put him in a pensive mood.
Differently from what many believed, George knew his way around the political field. He didn't like it, but that didn't make him ignorant. Something in that event was off. It simply didn't make sense for such a wealthy descendant to arrive unnoticed in the second district, especially in a period when Khan was the network's main topic.
'Someone let him in,' George understood. 'Maybe the Headmistress chose to ignore his arrival on purpose.'
That explanation would match what George knew of the Harbor. The Headmistress had to prioritize peace, which prevented her from taking sides. If a conflict between two big families had to happen, it would make sense for her to turn a blind eye and let those powerful forces deal with the problem.
'He's the desperate guy,' George recalled as much as possible, and a smile slowly broadened on his face. 'This sounds fun.'
George turned toward the elevator before recalling something else. His eyes went to the table, where a bottle and a glass had survived Monica's rage. She had destroyed the other, but George could still drink with what he had.
Monica heaved a helpless sigh when she reached the first floor. The empty main hall gave her insights into Francis' intentions, and crossing the entrance confirmed her suspicions.
Francis stood at the sidewalk's center, with four luxurious cars parked behind him. Six guards wearing elegant clothes had also come out to remain on the street. There were no onlookers in the immediate surroundings, but it was clear that Francis wanted that meeting to be as public as possible.
"I hope you can ignore my appearance," Monica announced as soon as the entrance closed behind her. "I preferred respecting your time than dressing up for the event."
Francis had worn his best suit, and the new muscles developed after his infusion filled it perfectly. His black clothes gave him a smooth, firm figure that radiated a mature aura. He had prepared for the event, but Monica's appearance stunned him.
Monica was by no means shabby, but her casual clothes, messy hair, and unmatched shoes went against anything Francis thought to know about her. That wasn't the same woman he had grown up with. She was a beautiful stranger he could recognize only from her familiar manners.
"We have known each other long enough to ignore these ceremonies," Francis said, clearing his throat to stick to his plan. "You look as enchanting as ever, Monica."
"Thank you, Francis," Monica nodded in respect. "I'm happy to see that you are doing well too."
"I had to put some effort after Milia 222," Francis revealed. "I couldn't let myself be unprepared any longer."
"I can see that," Monica stated, but her eyes never stopped at Francis' figure. They went past it to study the guards waiting by the cars.
"I'm sorry for the sudden summoning," Francis promptly stated to bring Monica's attention back to him. "I was afraid you would have avoided me if I tried to plan a meeting."
"Why is that, if I may?" Monica questioned. "As you said, we have known each other for a long time. I see no reason for refusing a proper invitation. It would have spared me from this shameful act."
"I apologize for forcing your hand," Francis uttered, clearing his throat once again. "However-."
The entrance opened, interrupting Francis' line. George stepped onto the sidewalk and shot a glance at the scene before leaning on the building wall. He had the bottle and his glass in his hands, and booze fell into it as he calmly prepared a drink.
Monica let George distract her only for a second before pressing Francis to speak. "However?"
"However," Francis cleared his throat a third time, "I now feel these circumstances perfectly express the issue in my mind."
"Francis, would you be so kind as to get to the point?" Monica showed a fake smile. "Each second I spend dressed up like this is a blow to the Solodrey family's reputation."
"I've set things straight with Headmistress Holwen," Francis reassured. "These are to be considered as private matters between families. No onlookers or common soldiers are allowed in the area."
"You underestimate the power of curiosity," Monica scolded in an emotionless tone, and Francis inevitably glanced at George at those words.
George wore a carefree smile as he proceeded to enjoy his drink. No one knew the reason behind his presence there, not even him. Still, he had booze, so he drank to sort out his thoughts.
"Francis, the reason for your visit," Monica felt forced to remind.
"Y-yes!" Francis stammered before gaining a firm and deep tone. "It is my duty as one of your oldest friends and an ally of your family to help you during this rough patch. I'm here for you, Monica."
"Help me how?" Monica asked.
"It's possible that Milia 222 inflicted serious traumas on your psyche," Francis explained. "Your behavior and decisions in the past months have shown clear differences from your old self. Many experts I contacted believe you have post-traumatic stress disorder."
"Excuse me?" Monica voiced.
"The signals are evident," Francis continued. "You are pursuing actions that go against your family's values and reputation, which never happened before. You make rash decisions that endanger everything you have built in the last years, even going as far as requesting interviews to spread news faster."
Monica wanted to snap at that very moment, but that would only work in Francis' favor. The latter had yet to mention Khan, which was ideal for Monica. She would consider the event a success if she could send Francis away without involving her boyfriend.
"Your concern is heartwarming," Monica summoned her elegant façade, "But I can't help but find your accusation distasteful and disrespectful. I currently am the best student in the Harbor, and Princess Edna can vouch for my sanity."
Bringing up a noble was a dangerous play, but Monica knew that no one would dare to question her. Princess Edna herself would find the matter funny. In a way, she was the perfect shield, but Francis turned out to be more persistent than expected.
"Monica, I've come here as a friend," Francis sighed. "I wish our tones to remain friendly."
"I don't understand the reason behind such caution," Monica's voice grew colder. "I believe you remember where I was during Milia 222's crisis. I fought alongside the asteroid's inhabitants. I can handle direct words."
Monica could use that chance to insult Francis. After all, he had been in the safety of the first floor during the crisis, but she decided otherwise. The Harbor was watching her, so Francis had to be the first to overstep to justify an eventual angry reaction.
"It seems you are more lost than I feared," Francis muttered before pointing a hand at Monica. "Monica, look at yourself. The old you would have never worn such unbefitting clothes in public. The old you knew the importance of reputation."
"I didn't change out of respect," Monica stated. "Now I know my sacrifice means nothing to you."
"Monica, you wouldn't have needed to change in the past," Francis pressed on, abandoning some of the moral superiority that had filled his speech. "The only reason you are dressed like this is-."
Francis halted his mouth and lowered his head to suppress his worst sides. He was about to mention the only topic that could make that conversation pointless, but Monica wouldn't simply ignore that mistake."
"Is?" Monica asked. "Please, enlighten me."
"Monica, be reasonable," Francis lowered his voice. "Come with me. My family has already prepared a team of specialists for your rehabilitation. We are willing to satisfy your every demand. Just return where you belong."
"All of this in exchange for my hand, I suppose," Monica guessed.
"That's not up to you or me to decide," Francis declared. "If our families find an agreement, then yes. If they don't, I'll be happy to know that I helped a friend."
"That's impossible," Monica immediately refused. "I've already gotten my parents' approval, and I must complete the semester. It would be disrespectful and unbefitting of the Solodrey name to give up."
"Monica, when was the last time you visited your flat?" Francis asked. "This news reached me far before I even planned this trip. How can you not acknowledge your problem?"
"It's hard to see it as a problem when you can't speak openly," Monica exclaimed. "What is it? Are you worried about the consequences of your actions?"
"Why would I fear Captain Khan?" Francis took the bait. "He is an outstanding soldier. No one is questioning that. My issue is with your status. It pains me to see you reaching such lows."
"What lows are you talking about?" Monica smiled again.
"These," Francis stated, moving his stretched arm up and down to point at the entirety of Monica. "You are disregarding your status to fall to his level."
"Oh?" Monica feigned surprise while grabbing her tracksuit's edges and pulling them down. "Do you mean these clothes? Do you think I wear these to make Captain Khan more comfortable in my presence?"
"Why else would you show yourself in such improper attire?" Francis asked. "This is only one of the many clues that fill your past months."
"Francis," Monica giggled, partially covering her mouth. "I don't wear clothes when I'm serving Khan."
The statement silenced Francis and tried to kill any desire to keep the conversation under friendly terms. Yet, he suppressed his rasher reactions since the forces at work there were scary even for him.
The Headmistress had not been the only one to give her authorization for that meeting. She alone didn't have the necessary authority, and Monica had long since understood that. She knew her family had taken part in that ploy.
A tense atmosphere fell on the sidewalk, and even the experienced guards near the cars remained startled. Monica's straightforward answer was shocking, to say the least, especially for someone as emotionally involved as Francis.
Still, a snicker soon broke the silence, bringing many gazes to the wall next to the building's entrance. George couldn't contain himself in that situation, and the booze didn't suppress his voice. He openly laughed at that blatant mockery and seeing Francis' face added fuel to that reaction.
"I'm really sorry," George did his best to apologize, lifting his hands only to wave his bottle and glass left and right. "I didn't mean to interrupt. Please, continue."
"How dare you even attend this meeting?" Francis diverted his irritation on George.
"I live here," George shrugged his shoulders, closing the bottle with his thumb to use it to point at the building. "I think you should have chosen a more private location."
"Who do you think you are?" Francis couldn't contain himself.
"George Ildoo," George calmly revealed, "And you are the guy who has to get women wasted to get laid."
"What?!" Francis gasped.
"You know," George continued, ignoring the glare that Monica was shooting at him, "I could give you some pointers. Humbly speaking, I'm quite good."
Francis knew who George was, which intensified his stupor. It didn't make sense for someone from an inferior family to show such disrespect, especially during their first interaction. Still, George only continued to pour more booze and snicker with himself.
Francis seemed so lost that one of the guards left the cars to intervene, but an empty glass flew in his direction before he could cross the sidewalk. The soldier easily dodged the item, but seeing it shatter on the floor made the tension skyrocket.
"Protect Mister Alstair!" The guard that had stepped on the sidewalk shouted, and his companions left the cars to approach Francis.
"What are you doing?" Monica couldn't help but ask, but seeing George drinking directly from the bottle made her lose any hope of finding a reasonable solution.
"Look," George announced as soon as he lowered the bottle. "I understand the Mister doing what he wants, but you are guards, and this is the Harbor. You showed enmity, so don't be surprised when someone reacts."
