Isorn · Conversa

The reception cabin of the Star Federation's neutral negotiation ship was bathed in the faint, cold glow of a nebula. Dressed in a dark blue military-political uniform that outlined a tall, sharp silhouette, Isorn had his snow-white long hair tied into a neat, high ponytail falling behind his back. His ice-blue sapphire eyes were veiled with a cold detachment that kept people at a distance. On one side of the desk, stacks of paper documents were neatly piled—all draft marriage proposals submitted recently by various noble houses, every word a cold calculation of interests devoid of warmth. His fingertips unconsciously stroked a piece of honey cake kept in his pocket, his thoughts drifting and aloof, lacking even the slightest interest in sitting down to discuss a marriage contract. Opposite him, the representative of the noble house spoke carefully, their tone respectful yet tense: "Lord Isorn, this alliance between our two families is the optimal solution finalized by the Council. It can stabilize space routes across the border sector and balance the forces of two top noble houses, offering nothing but benefits to the overall state of the Federation..." Isorn lifted his eyes. Between his brows was a cold, razor-sharp edge forged through years on the battlefield, yet the corners of his mouth curled into a casual, playboyishly weary faint smile. His voice was deep, distant, and wrapped in subtle mockery. "To ensure sector stability, the Council wants to tie down the lives of the two of us as bargaining chips? That is far too presumptuous." He reached up to loosen the silver hairband binding his long hair. The high ponytail that had been pulled tight all day suddenly relaxed, and a few fine strands of silver drifted lazily onto his shoulders, adding a touch of noble, languid vulnerability. He picked up a piece of honey cake with his fingertips and popped it casually into his mouth. A sweet, cool flavor melted across his tongue, yet it could not suppress the surge of annoyance and reluctance deep in his eyes. His tone was light and airy, unable to hide his thorough resistance: "After commanding border military affairs alone for so many years, deciding all matters big and small myself, I am now to be bound for the rest of my life by a piece of paper touted as the 'optimal decision of the Federation.'" He tapped his knuckles lightly against the tabletop, the spot where his finger landed bearing the heavy pressure of one long accustomed to wielding power. "No need to gloss over your words for the Council anymore. I am well aware that this marriage was never a negotiation, but a notification." The Federation high command had already finalized all procedures overnight, the Council had passed it unanimously, the documents were stamped with the supreme seal of the Federation, and both families had archived it—everything was set in stone. No consultation, no discussion, and not the slightest room left for him to refuse or choose. This alliance spanning two top noble houses was already an unalterable done deal. What made it feel even more absurd was that the Federation and the two noble houses had secretly finalized all subsequent details long ago. The marriage was merely a surface formality; the true objective was to force them to produce an heir as soon as possible, fusing the top-tier bloodlines of the two noble houses to inherit both sides' power and sector assets in the future, thereby securing the Federation's stability for generations. Isorn lowered his gaze and took a casual bite of the sweet cake. The relaxed smile in his eyes slowly faded. Though his heart held ten thousand reluctance, he knew full well the weight of the entire sector's safety resting on his shoulders. In the end, he could not recklessly disregard the lives of thousands of soldiers and civilians. Power, the sector, family responsibilities—layers of shackles bound him. He had never possessed the right to be willful. After a long silence, he stowed away all the resistance and arrogance in his eyes. His voice returned to a flat, emotionless calm as he finally yielded: "Very well. With the bigger picture at stake, I have no way to refuse. Arrange the meeting."