Chapter 151: Black Coffee

Silence.
Quietness.

This sudden stillness was perceived by Julia with acute sensitivity almost instantly.

Her voice at the other end of the phone suddenly rose by an octave:
"Naval... what, what are you thinking?"

For the first time, a note of hesitation appeared in her voice—not directed at herself, but at the person on the other end of the line.

"I..."

Naval stammered, feeling as though his heart were being carved out piece by piece with a small knife. Despite this, he continued in a broken, halting tone:
"Julia... I think it's better not to take such drastic actions... If Professor Masip were still here, he would worry about us... Besides, the FBI and the LAPD hold such immense power; if we confront them head-on, something might go terribly wrong. We could pursue justice through legal channels instead..."

Naval's voice grew weaker and weaker. Although Julia on the other end listened in silence, he felt entirely devoid of conviction.

A long silence followed.

When he had racked his brain and could no longer utter a single word, Julia's voice came through once again:
"I understand, Naval."

For the first time, she sounded so icy toward him.

"Asking you for help was a mistake—I should have known from the very beginning. I'm sorry to have bothered you, thank you for the call, goodbye."

The dial tone echoed with a series of mechanical buzzes.

Leaning against the wall of the bathroom, Naval sat in a daze for several minutes.

He gripped his phone tightly, wanting to call her back, but in the end, he took no action.

Struggling, Naval pulled himself up from the floor, washed his face once more, and leaning against the wall step by step, made his way back to his bedroom.

Sitting before the computer screen once again, Naval's gaze hardened.

He switched to his familiar dark web portal, and the deepest waters of the digital world opened up before him once more.

"I'm sorry... Uncle Masip, I might have to betray your dying wish."

He whispered softly to that man in his heart:
"I will try to persuade Julia and make sure she is well taken care of... But as for my own safety, I suppose I must let it go."

The next moment, Naval's fingers flew across the keyboard. In the dark web chat channels labeled "Special Security Consultant Channel," "Cyber Public Opinion Channel," and "Intelligence Tracking Channel," he typed the exact same sentence into each:
"Hello, I have a deal I'd like to discuss."

...

At the headquarters of the United Neighborhoods.

After hanging up the phone, Julia's expression was far from as icy as her voice had been.

Looking at the "Disconnected" status displayed on the screen, she put away her phone, buried her face in her hands with red, tear-swollen eyes, and let her tears fall into her palms.

Just behind her, a pair of warm and powerful arms wrapped around her from behind, and an intensely magnetic voice sounded beside her ear:
"Little Julia... I know how you feel, I understand your grief—but look, even Naval doesn't support your idea. You must realize, that path will never succeed..."

Travis pulled Julia tighter, and she did not push him away, still keeping her face buried deep in her palms.

"...Even though Chairman Masip has passed away, the United Neighborhoods is still here. We should inherit Chairman Masip's legacy and fight for the rights of minority communities."

Travis persuaded her patiently and tenderly, his handsome features flowing in smooth, captivating lines. But right at that moment, Julia, her face still buried in her hands, uttered words that were slightly muffled yet laced with a chilling frost:
"Uncle Masip never once said he was fighting to secure the rights of minority communities."

She raised her head, turned around, and swept her gaze over Travis with an examining, freezing look that left him momentarily stunned.

"Uncle Masip always believed—and never hesitated to say—that he was fighting for 'power,' not 'rights.' The latter refers simply to the 'right,' the mere ability to freely acquire and dispose of one's own wealth; whereas the former, 'power,' is what can actually shake the equal distribution of wealth. What he wanted to do was not those politically correct 'rights issues,' but to reshape the distribution of power in this country's landscape—and that core is what truly determines the social strata of various ethnicities."

She stared coldly at Travis until a thin layer of sweat slowly beaded on his back. Then, narrowing her eyes, she asked:
"Travis—are you happy about Uncle Masip's death?"

"...What do you mean?"

The moment he spoke, Travis was startled to find his voice somewhat hoarse. Instantly, he tried his best to match the sorrow in his eyes with that hoarseness, drew a deep breath, and gazed at Julia with deep affection:
"Julia, could you possibly think I'm the kind of person who would sit idly by and watch a venerable elder die just so I could climb to power? Julia, why do you distrust me so?!"

He met Julia's gaze unyielding, his eyes filled with grievance and anger.

Perhaps that emotional display touched Julia slightly, as she yielded first, lowered her gaze, and said to Travis:
"I'm sorry... My emotions are a bit unstable because of Uncle Masip..."

"I understand. Chairman Masip's death has dealt a heavy blow to me as well—but I still have to shoulder the work of the United Neighborhoods. I believe many people within the organization must be deeply shaken by what happened to Chairman Masip, so I cannot afford to collapse at a time like this," Travis said earnestly.

The corners of Julia's mouth twitched, forming a rigid smile toward him.

"Thank you for your hard work, Travis. I, no..."

She shook her head.
"I think I need to go back and clear my head."

Turning around, she walked unsteadily out of the United Neighborhoods headquarters room. Travis made no effort to detain her, watching her receding figure leave in a daze.

Confirming that Julia had completely departed, Travis touched the sweat on his back and let out a long breath.

All the emotional expression vanished from his eyes, leaving them completely indifferent. Pulling out his phone from his inner pocket, Travis made a call:
"Yes, reporting the situation... After Chairman Masip's death was confirmed, it caused a massive shock wave within the United Neighborhoods... Most of the people here are still in a state of shock and confusion...

"Oh... I understand... Rest assured, I will properly reform the United Neighborhoods—it will become a harmless social organization... Once my mission is accomplished and I step down with merit, I will return to headquarters...

"'High-risk subject'? You mean... Oh..."

Listening to the instructions of his superior on the other end, Travis hesitated for a moment.

Just a moment, as if he were wavering over something.

But the next instant, his gaze turned resolute.

"Nothing else... However, Masip Sineneth's adopted daughter, Julia, is suspected of harboring somewhat restless intentions."

Whatever else was said afterwards no longer mattered; it was merely some cleanup details.

Travis sat down in the office chair, his gaze sweeping across the cramped little office—an office utterly disproportionate to a massive organization with over a hundred thousand members and control over hundreds of millions of dollars—and finally rested on the cup in front of him.

On the surface of the dark, murky coffee in the mug, Travis's expressionless face was faintly reflected.

He stared at the cup of coffee.

After a long while, Travis picked it up and drank it all in one go.

The taste was bitter.