Leo sat on the sofa, his body leaning slightly forward.

Cigar smoke swirled between them, obscuring Morganfield’s face.

It was quiet here, so quiet that Leo could hear his own heartbeat.

Faced with Roosevelt’s question, Leo didn’t answer immediately.

He closed his eyes.

In that brief darkness, his thoughts went into fast-forward.

A heavy, viscous sensory experience instantly overwhelmed Leo.

’The musty smell of cheap instant pasta mixed with old paper seemed to fill his nostrils again.’

’He was back in that cramped, dark apartment, the sickly white light from the computer screen stinging his dry eyes.’

’In the center of the screen, an email from the Federal Student Aid Office displayed, in bright red, $137,542.89.’

’That number wasn’t just debt; it was a mountain crushing his chest, making every breath taste of despair.’

’Huddled in that creaky second-hand chair, he had once naively believed that if he just understood the history on his bookshelf, he could see the path forward.’

’Then came the bone-chilling cold.’

’The damp, cold air unique to a Pittsburgh winter morning mercilessly poured down the collar of his thin coat.’

’He could feel his fingers going numb from the cold, yet he had to clutch the stack of flyers that no one wanted to take.’

’Pedestrians hurried past, wrapped tightly in their scarves, their gazes as indifferent as the roadside snow.’

’He tried to shout, to make a change, but his voice was drowned out by the city’s clamor, leaving not even a single echo.’

’Then, the red numbers and gray streets morphed into the blinding police lights in front of City Hall that night.’

’Screams, roars, and the dull thud of shields striking flesh exploded against his eardrums.’

’Margaret’s face, which always wore a kind smile, twisted into a mask of agony amidst the chaotic lights and shadows.’

’The old woman who always called him a "good boy" collapsed on the cold, hard concrete, curled up like a cat.’

’And in front of her stood a line of steel machines, holding riot shields, their faces devoid of expression.’

’The helplessness of that moment was heavier, more suffocating, than the $130,000 of debt.’

’He thought he could protect them just by standing on the side of justice, but in the end, he had only used his own cheap conscience to push them into the meat grinder of violence.’

’All because he had no power.’

’All because he was just a "good man" with a megaphone but no real strength.’

’These painful memories finally overlapped with reality.’

’He remembered the meatball sub dripping with ketchup in Moretti’s office, and the disgustingly fake smile on Carter Wright’s face as he faced the cameras.’

’Those people—they didn’t have to hand out flyers in the cold wind, didn’t have to worry about being knocked down by a shield.’

’They sat in their warm offices, deciding who got to live and who had to be sacrificed.’

’And the reason they could sit there so comfortably wasn’t because they were noble, but because they were ruthless enough, wicked enough, and had no bottom line whatsoever.’

Leo’s fingers dug deep into the leather of the sofa’s armrest.

He looked back on his journey.

He had started with anger, risen by inciting public opinion, fought back using legal loopholes, and survived on political deals.

He was no longer that innocent student.

His hands might not be stained with blood, but they were covered in filth.

’I want to change it all.’

’I want to drive out those Vampires. I want workers like Frank to be able to hold their heads high. I want the elderly, like Margaret, to live out their later years in peace.’

’To do that, kindness isn’t enough.’

’Ideals alone will leave you starving.’

’To defeat the dragon, one has to grow scales harder and claws sharper than its own.’

’For a flower to bloom in a pond full of sludge, its roots must dig into the deepest, filthiest muck for nourishment.’

’If someone has to sell their soul for Pittsburgh to survive... ’

’If someone has to be vilified to turn that $500 million into actual bread and milk...’

’Then let it be me.’

’I don’t need to be a saint. A saint can’t save Pittsburgh.’

’I have to be the one holding the whip.’

Leo’s eyes snapped open.

The last trace of hesitation, struggle, and youthful naivety in his eyes vanished in that instant.

In its place was a bottomless, ice-cold pool.

The look of a politician.

The look of power.

He looked at the oligarch before him, the man who controlled the city’s economic lifeline.

The old Leo Wallace—the history student with one last shred of Ivory Tower clarity lingering in the depths of his mind—died on the sofa of the Allegany Mountain Summit Club at that very moment.

Sitting across from Morganfield now was the Mayor of Pittsburgh.

A gambler, ready to make a deal with a Demon and take all the Demon’s chips in the bargain.

"Mr. President, I’m ready."

"Very good." Roosevelt’s voice was unreadable. "Since you’ve decided to sell, then sell for a good price. Don’t act like a beggar eyeing a handout. Act like an owner."

"Douglas," Leo’s voice was no longer tense, but relaxed. "I’m ready."

"Ready for what?" Morganfield narrowed his eyes. "Ready to bow your head to me for that pitiful credit collateral?"

"No."

Leo shook his head.

"I’m ready to sell you the entirety of Pittsburgh."

Morganfield froze.

Even he was stunned by that utterly undisguised statement.