Dragon King's Harem Chapter 327. Skepticism I

Dragon King's Harem Chapter 327. Skepticism I

"They are not spies, Viperax," I asserted with unwavering determination. My gaze, sharp as a blade, bore into him, leaving no room for doubt. I was resolute in my stance, ready to confront whatever he threw my way.

His response came in the form of a question, a demand laced with skepticism. Leaning in, a frown etched on his features, he sought clarification. "Then what?" The air crackled with tension as he awaited my explanation. His narrowed eyes hinted at the skepticism he harbored.

"Delegations," I stated confidently, my tone unwavering. I maintained eye contact, unyielding in the face of his scrutiny. There was a subtle nuance between espionage and delegation, and I was quick to exploit it. "Their purpose is to check the facts and report back to Al. They should check the place out and come see you," I added, unruffled by the challenge.

At that moment, the distinction between spies and delegates became blurred, emphasizing the thin line that separated the two. The difference lay not in their actions but in their destinations – whether their findings were presented to the ally’s king or not. It was a strategic move, redirecting the focus from the means to the gravity of the issues at hand.

"Delegations?" Viperax echoed, his frown deepening with every passing moment. His dissatisfaction manifested in a barrage of questions, demanding answers. "Why did none of them meet me? Why don't my subordinates know that? Why didn't any of them tell me?" Each query was a pointed challenge, and he sought a response that would satisfy his growing frustration.

I responded with a nonchalant shrug, injecting an air of casual detachment into my demeanor. "I don't know. You should ask your subordinates, not me," I stated, my tone implying that I held no responsibility for the apparent lack of communication.

Viperax, clearly displeased, snorted in disbelief. "Hmph! Are you lying to me?" His suspicion hung heavy in the air, and he awaited my defense.

I couldn't resist a scoff. "Aren't you too quick to draw that conclusion? You don't even know about this factory and the violations committed by your own subordinates. If they catch the witnesses, they might just accept my delegation's report without conveying it to you. All of them didn't manage to meet you after all," I wove a narrative, leveraging his admitted ignorance to construct a plausible scenario.

The strategic move aimed to exploit the gaps in his knowledge, turning his own lack of control over his kingdom against him. It was a calculated play, emphasizing the potential flaws in his leadership and sowing seeds of doubt about the reliability of his own subordinates.

Silence hung in the air for a moment as Viperax processed the information, his mind working to formulate a response. Eventually, he broke the quietude with a question, his voice carrying the weight of suspicion. "Can I meet them?" he inquired, seeking confirmation.

I responded with a simple, "For?" I wanted to understand his motives before entertaining the request.

"To make sure that what you said is true," he stated with clarity, his gaze fixed on me.

A low chuckle escaped my lips in response to his straightforward request, laden with unmistakable mockery. "If you want to know whether what I said is true or not, you just need to check the factory. Does it really exist or not? Why do you have to meet my delegation to confirm it?" I countered, challenging the necessity of such a meeting.

My response aimed to redirect his focus to the core issue – the existence of the factory and the illicit activities occurring under his rule. By emphasizing the importance of inspecting the source itself, I sought to undermine the need for a meeting that could potentially be manipulated or controlled to his advantage. It was a strategic move, maintaining the pressure on him to address the problems within his own kingdom while highlighting the redundancy of certain demands.

Viperax's suspicions hung in the air like a thick fog, and he wasn't willing to let them dissipate easily. "Yes, that's my point. That's why I want to ask your delegations more. I had to ask in detail to make sure he would indeed come and try to meet me. Also, which subordinates have betrayed me. Besides, this could just be a made-up story," he asserted, his tone laced with skepticism.

I didn't let his doubts rattle me. Instead, I met his gaze with narrowed eyes, countering his argument. “Good point, but I can't possibly send delegates if I don't receive a report from the witness, right?" I stated, a note of emphasis in my voice. I wanted to redirect the conversation back to the core issue – the existence of the factory and the violations occurring under his rule. “You should investigate this case step by step. And it should start from the presence or absence of the factory. Why are you going around in circles as if blaming me for your mistakes?" I questioned pointedly.

I continued, not allowing him room to maneuver. “After all, I have to protect the witness and my delegation's identity. Who knows, someone might try to take their lives," I added, making it clear that I suspected his hidden agendas.

Viperax's declaration rang in the air like a bold proclamation. "It's impossible. I will always uphold justice," he declared with unwavering confidence. However, my skepticism lingered, evident in the arched brow that greeted his statement.

“Really?” I countered, my tone dipped in suspicion. “Well--- from what I've seen and what I've experienced, that says something different. Let’s be real, your baron even threw his accusations at me, and you believed him. Isn't that the reason why this meeting happened?” I reminded him of the events that had led us to this tense confrontation. “And if I were a commoner. Wasn't my head the one that would have rolled down on the ground?” I pressed further, challenging the integrity of his proclaimed justice.

His response was a stunned silence, a tacit admission that my words had hit their mark. At that moment, his confident facade cracked, revealing the vulnerability beneath.

'Checkmate,' I thought, a mental acknowledgment of the strategic move that had left him without a suitable response.