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ArabicArknights: How Did I Actually Become the Doctor? — Chapter 22
Chapter 22: The Mastermind’s Gambit
Like distant twin stars in a synchronized spiral, deep within an unpeopled region of space…
‘This is it,’the Doctor thought, hyping himself up in front of the mirror.’This chapter of my life will be a brain-burning battle of wits comparable to Zhongli faking his own death. Absolute cinema.’
He confidently donned his formal attire, sliding his feet into polished leather shoes. To prevent his own pathetic, rambling inner monologue from ruining the menacing vibe he was going for, he mentally slapped his second-person perspective into a cold, detached third-person view.
“Kal’tsit, drive for me.” The wicked hooded figure, seizing this rare opportunity with absolute gusto, directed Kal’tsit to change into an assistant’s attire and stand behind him with her arms full of documents.
Kal’tsit’s knuckles tightened around the folders. Considering that this man still had high-stakes negotiations to conduct later, she held back her worst and ultimately delivered a solid, calculated punch to his waist.
“Doctor, the suffering on this land demands urgent resolution. If you have so much excess energy, you are more than welcome to take some of the paperwork off my hands.”
“Ow…” The Doctor let out a miserable yelp, clutching his side as he obediently retreated into the back of the car, muttering under his breath.
Kal’tsit twitched her feline ears. The Doctor’s quiet grumbling became crystal clear.
“Kal’tsit, you rebellious daughter… Daddy raised you with handfuls of premium cat litter and expensive scratching posts… I even scooped your poop when you were little…”
Kal’tsit listened to this delusion for a long moment before she was finally unable to restrain herself. “…You never scooped anything for me. According to the data records, my prototype came from a pet feline belonging to one of your ordinary colleagues. The closest thing you ever did to it was play the villain and take her to the veterinary clinic to be spayed, simply so her heat cycle would not affect the working relationship between it and your colleague.”
The Doctor immediately zipped his mouth shut and obediently began changing into his negotiation clothes in the back seat.
“If there are parts of the suit you do not know how to wear, please consult me in time,” Kal’tsit added coldly from the driver’s seat. “I hope you will not suddenly make ridiculous and absurd remarks like ‘my zipper caught my skin’ during such an important diplomatic occasion.”
“Kal’tsit, who are you looking down on! I am one of the top geniuses of the previous civilization! Do not use your kitten brain to speculate about the great Doctor!”
“Let us hope so.”
Five minutes later.
“Ahem, um, Kal’tsit, are you there?”
“What is it? Does the greatest genius of the previous civilization require my assistance?”
“Uh… well, could you point out where the collar is? I cannot get my head out.”
“The place you are currently drilling through is indeed the collar. But why did you tie the necktie around it beforehand?”
“Hehe…” An awkward laugh echoed from beneath the tangled mess of formal wear.
Kal’tsit’s face darkened as she stared at the road ahead, already preparing contingency plans for the catastrophic blunders that would inevitably occur during the upcoming negotiations.
“Kal’tsit, are you doubting me?” The Doctor, struggling to pull his white hair out through the collar one strand at a time while attempting to physically shrink his head circumference, suddenly caught sight of Kal’tsit’s expression of deep exhaustion through the gap between two shirt buttons. He felt as if he had just taken ten thousand points of true damage.
Kal’tsit used sheer willpower to force herself to look away, praying to whatever gods were listening that the great mastermind of Rhodes Island would not be defeated in single combat by his own suit.
“By the way, Kal’tsit, do you want to try some signature Kazimierz red wine later…”
“No, Doctor. Please, by all means, do not do something as embarrassing as packing up the leftover red wine in a doggy bag to take with you.”
Red wine seasoned with the reputation of Rhodes Island was still far too spicy for the old lynx to swallow.
As soon as the vehicle rolled to a smooth halt outside the grand venue, a portly director from the Kazimierz Commerce Union approached with a crystal wine glass in hand, his face plastered with a sycophantic smile.
“Ms. Kal’tsit, we have prepared the finest vintage wine for you. Please do not decline.”
Kal’tsit looked at his fleshy face, completely unable to hide the raw greed swimming in his eyes, and frowned. Still, she suppressed her disgust and spoke with measured politeness. “I apologize, but I am not the one who invited everyone here for negotiations today.”
Not her? Then who else was qualified to represent Rhodes Island at this table? That wet-behind-the-ears little bunny girl?
The director stood stunned for a moment. Kal’tsit walked right past him without a second glance, opened the car door for the person in the back seat, and ignored the Kazimierz official completely.
“A pleasure to meet you all. I am the newly appointed Commander of Rhodes Island. You may call me Doctor.”
The person in the back seat slowly rose into the light. The black suit, accented with subtle gold patterns, fit his slender, well-proportioned figure perfectly, without a single wrinkle to betray his earlier struggle. His pale, translucent gray eyes swept across the gathering with a chilling hint of utter indifference.
When the fat director turned his head, he met those unique eyes. They shone with an inorganic luster, carrying a touch of supreme arrogance and a dark, detached interest that seemed entirely out of place in this world. The director shivered involuntarily.
It felt as if his very ancestors had been domesticated by the entity standing before him for tens of thousands of years. The primal unease of livestock facing an apex predator was embedded deep in his bones and blood.
Across the opulent hall, several of the invited guests remembered something the moment they saw those gray eyes. Their faces turned deathly pale in an instant, their wine glasses trembling in their hands.
The young man nonchalantly adjusted his wristwatch, the metallic click echoing in the dead silent room, and curled his lips into a faint, terrifying smile.
“It seems quite a few people still remember me. It is getting late, everyone. Let us cut the small talk and discuss business first.”
He bowed slightly, executing an impeccable gesture of invitation. “Everyone, the new contracts for Rhodes Island have been prepared. I wonder if you all still have the intention to continue our cooperation?”
The room was packed with power. Directors from the Kazimierz Commerce Union, industry managers from the sun-drenched beaches of Dosoles, emerging industrial nobles from the harsh tundras of Ursus, technology giants from the sprawling cities of Columbia. Almost all the heavyweights in Terra who had economic ties with Rhodes Island were gathered here, staring down at the new contracts laid before them.
The Doctor made a subtle gesture with his hand. Before Kal’tsit could even step forward, the head of a minor family, possessing an extreme sense of self-preservation and perception, shot up from his seat and took the heavy crystal decanter from a paralyzed server. He poured the bright red wine, watching it flow slowly down the side of the Doctor’s glass like thick blood.
One circle, two circles, three circles.
The Doctor smiled faintly. He swirled the glass with one hand while resting his chin on the other, thoroughly enjoying the sight of these powerful figures’ increasingly worsening expressions. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.
“No way! We absolutely cannot accept this price!” One of the Victorian nobles finally cracked under the pressure. He slammed his fist against the mahogany table and shouted, “A fifty percent price hike, and you want our exclusive sales channels too? You are practically robbing us!”
“Yes, exactly!”
“This is completely unreasonable!”
Immediately, a group of desperate executives whispered in loud agreement, trying to build a united front. Another group, however, remained dead silent, their eyes fixed firmly on the table.
If one looked closely, those who remained silent were mostly older, better informed, or simply closer to the borders of Kazdel. They knew exactly what kind of monster was sitting at the head of the table.
The young man listened to the growing wave of dissatisfaction. He finally stopped swirling the innocent red wine, set the glass down, and folded his hands into a neat tower shape. He looked up, smiling pleasantly at the Victorian noble who had spoken first.
“Let me think. Victoria. What a wonderful place, so full of war and opportunity.”
The Doctor’s voice was smooth, unhurried, and dripping with venom. “The Sarkaz wandering government, if I recall correctly, just passed through your territory, did it not? Tell me, guess who the Duke behind you would trust more: you, a man who barely managed to survive under the shadow of the Sarkaz Regent, or a newly elected, far more trustworthy subordinate?”
The noble’s face instantly drained of all color. “Impossible. He has no right to strip me of my title…”
“No, no, no, not strip,” the Doctor interrupted, extending his index finger and shaking it gently. “Unfortunately, Rhodes Island’s medical aid station in Victoria just happened to rescue your half-brother, who was in grave danger.”
The Doctor leaned forward slightly, his gray eyes locking onto the trembling man. “He loves the people more than you do. He is smarter than you are. And, most crucially, he is far more willing to cooperate with us than you are.”
The young man clapped his hands gently. A sharp, singular sound that cut through the room.
The next moment, the heavy oak doors were pushed open. A young man who bore a striking resemblance to the noble stepped into the room. He was carrying a long ceremonial sword engraved with their family crest, his eyes staring fixedly at the older noble, whose body had completely gone limp in his chair.
“No… no, no…” The Victorian noble choked on his own breath. He had never expected that simply by standing on the wrong side of a negotiation table, he would lose absolutely everything in the blink of an eye.
“No, my lord, please! I beg you, you cannot do this!”
The desperate, unlucky man threw himself out of his chair, attempting to crawl forward to kneel and kiss the young man’s shoes in a pathetic display for forgiveness.
Kal’tsit stepped forward with cold precision, her boots clicking against the floor as she promptly intercepted the man, blocking him from ever touching the Doctor.