“Where do you think it’s safe, or where we all think it’s safe?” Frost’s question seemed to lower the temperature in the room.
Ange seemed too lazy to answer the question. He twisted his body and found a more comfortable sitting position in the chair. “There are only two people in the whole world who can enter there. It’s safer than the World Bank’s vault.”
“Which two people?”
“One is me,” Ange said calmly, “and the other is the man who built the vault.”
“We have seven trustees, and none of us know how to build a safe,” Frost said, looking directly into Ange’s eyes. “That means you’re the only one among us who has access to the Dragon King’s skeleton, correct? Principal.”
“Hmm.” Ange responded casually, took out a Havana No. 1 cigar from the cedar wood cigarette case, sniffed it slowly, cut an opening with a cigar scissors, burned the cigar with a thin match, then lit it and took a puff with satisfaction.
Everyone could see he didn’t want to continue the conversation. The air around him seemed to cool even lower. Frost Gattuso, the representative of the Gattuso family, had a face frozen in place. He was a key figure in the family’s business, replacing his brother. His importance lay in the fact that the Gattuso family donated the most to the academy each year, with Lisa’s Laurent family coming in second.
“Ange, we highly appreciate your bravery and achievements in the dragon-slaying career. But you must understand that Cassell Academy does not belong to you, and the Dragon King’s skeleton does not belong to you. You are the person we elected to manage that college. In other words, you are our professional manager.” Frost said slowly.
“I think I’m managing pretty well. If I were a CEO, I’d just submitted a fantastic annual report and slain two Dragon Kings.” Angé exhaled a puff of cyan smoke. “Mr. Director, this doesn’t seem like the right time to question my management authority.”
Lisa rang the bell: “I agree with Ange, this is our time to achieve outstanding results, and Ange has shown strong leadership.”
Frost grabbed a printed document from the side and slid across the conference table toward Lisa. “Being an expert dragon slayer and being an excellent administrator are two different things. Here’s the data we’ve collected. Over the past decade, the college’s administrative expenses have steadily climbed, and a huge amount of money has been wasted on bizarre things. For example, every year, our president, Angers, declares a carnival called ‘Freedom Day,’ where students can do whatever they want on campus, as long as they don’t cause any bodily harm. This event has now evolved into a literal showdown between the college’s two major clubs, resulting in a huge annual expenditure of alchemical bullets and a hefty maintenance bill.”
“The students agreed to abide by the school rules and not engage in word-spirit battles inside or outside the academy. Adolescent hormones need an outlet, after all.” Ange shrugged. “This is only a small part of the academy’s massive expenses.”
“Then the cost of your own chartered flights around the world for vacation is also charged to the college’s bill, which is even a small amount.” Frost said coldly.
Anjou scratched his graying hair, “Honestly, this expense is quite a bit larger than that of Day of Liberty…”
“Principal Anjou is very popular in the College, even having a fan club that calls itself ‘Anjou’s Squad.’ In their eyes, the existence of the School Board is irrelevant—so long as there’s a spiritual leader like Anjou, the extinction of the Dragon Raja is only a matter of time.”
“That’s really overstated.” The old man, chewing on his cigar, looked humble but was clearly thrilled.
“The methods of the Execution Bureau are becoming increasingly reckless. Perhaps you’d call them courageous. To an outsider, they look more like a group of marauders willing to sacrifice all of humanity for the ‘great cause’ of slaying dragons. Our brave young agents, armed with weapons modified by the Gear Department, roam the world like Wild West cowboys, engaging in battles without hesitation in the heart of major cities. Every year, cleaning up after them costs tens of millions of dollars.”
“All of it is for our great cause.”
“And then there’s the annual ‘College Star’ contest, essentially a beauty pageant, with Principal Anjou serving as a judge and dancing with beautiful young freshmen. Every evening there are countless parties in the College, with students dancing in a soap-bubble-filled basement, dressed in swimwear, dancing Latin. The College’s internal network is entirely free—students even gossip about the first loves of department heads.” Frost raised an eyebrow, “Is that also for our great cause?”
Everyone fell silent. The School Board members passed around the material, which was detailed and well-documented. The College under the Principal’s leadership did indeed seem free and unrestrained—or rather, chaotic.
It seemed difficult to find words to defend him.
“You’re not planning to fire me, are you?” Anjou asked slowly.
Lisa rang her bell, “I think we can end this discussion. Compared to the great cause of slaying dragons, these are trivial matters! There’s no need to waste time on them. The School Board is not a place for petty disputes. Can any of you imagine the elders of the Secret Party arguing over spending a few extra gold coins each year?”
Frost rang his bell, “No one’s saying we want to fire anyone. What I’m saying is, Anjou, just do your job, but don’t think the entire College should be under your control. It’s time for the Dragon King’s bones to be handed over to the School Board for safekeeping!”
“That’s quite a treasure,” Anjou said, puffing on his cigar. “We don’t yet fully understand what these bones, still containing traces of the dragon’s soul, can do, but at the very least, they can be used to create the Philosopher’s Stone. What does the School Board plan to do with it? Or… what does the Gattuso family plan to do with it?”
Frost knocked on the table, “Anjou, mind your words. I’m speaking on behalf of the School Board, not the Gattuso family!”
“You can fire me on behalf of the School Board,” the old man shrugged, “but I won’t hand over the Dragon King’s bones to you. There’s nothing to discuss.”