1885, I came to save Greece

The atmosphere in the drawing room became extremely tense amid Sir Harding's out-of-control roar.

The air seemed to solidify, and every grain of dust was permeated with the smell of gunpowder.

Sir Harding's chest heaved violently as he stared intently at Constantine, preparing to use the harshest and most ruthless language the British Empire could muster to warn this reckless young man of the devastating consequences that such a treacherous act of playing with fire would bring to Greece.

He wanted to make him understand that angering a lion is far more terrifying than appeasing a polar bear!

However, just as he was about to speak...

"Knock knock knock".

A series of urgent yet restrained knocks broke the suffocating standoff.

The sound wasn't loud, but it was like a small hammer, precisely striking the two people's tense nerves.

Constantine's eyebrows twitched slightly, but he did not respond immediately.

The attendant outside the door, Alexandros, was clearly impatient. Without being given permission, he turned the doorknob, pushed the door open a crack, and poked his head in.

His face was pale, and his eyes held an undisguised panic and strangeness, as if some ferocious beast was standing outside the door.

"Your Highness..."

Alexandros's voice was very low, even trembling slightly.

He strode over to Constantine, leaned forward slightly, and whispered a few words quickly in his ear, in a volume only the two of them could hear.

Sir Harding narrowed his eyes.

He saw that, as the attendant whispered, Constantine's usually cold and composed face revealed for the first time a "just right" hint of surprise, and a hint of barely concealed "embarrassment."

This change in expression made Sir Harding's heart skip a beat, and an ominous premonition welled up in his mind.

Constantine straightened up, looked at Sir Harding with an apologetic expression, and shrugged.

"I'm very sorry, Sir, it seems this afternoon is destined to be anything but peaceful."

He gave a wry smile, his tone filled with helplessness.

"There was a slight mishap. Mr. Pierre, the ambassador of the French Republic, came unexpectedly. He said... he had very urgent business and needed to see me immediately."

French Ambassador?

Pierre de Cousseau?

These words shot through Sir Harding's brain like an electric current, and his brow furrowed instantly.

He knew that name all too well!

Pierre de Cousseau, a darling of Parisian financial circles, is a thorough speculator and the staunchest supporter and financial backer of former Greek Prime Minister Deliplis!

Sir Harding's mind was racing.

That old man, Derek!

He was inevitably resentful that Constantine had used such ruthless methods to sideline him. He was a fervent pro-French figure, and the French were Greece's largest creditor, with whom he had numerous connections!

Could it be that Deripples is behind this? Did he leak his secret meeting with Constantine to the French?

So the French couldn't sit still and sent Pierre to stir things up?

That must be it!

Sir Harding almost instantly "figured out" the key to it.

Constantine took in the unpredictable expression on Hardin's face and sneered inwardly.

Yes, that's what jazz is all about.

Please think this way.

All of this was because he deliberately leaked the news of the "secret talks between Britain and Greece" to the French embassy in a vague and ambiguous manner through a third-party channel.

He accurately predicted the French people's sensitive and suspicious nature, and even more so, he predicted that Sir Harding, an imperialist, was accustomed to attributing everything to conspiracy and the schemes of his opponents.

Now, the second buyer has arrived as promised.

Constantine's expression grew even more troubled. He turned to his attendant and said in a consultative tone, "Alexandros, please go and tell the ambassador that I am having a very important meeting with the esteemed Sir Harding. Please ask him... to wait a moment in the side room."

He specifically emphasized the words "very important" and "must".

This was said to Harding.

However, before he could finish speaking...

A loud, enthusiastic male voice with a strong Parisian accent came from outside the door, as if he had been waiting there for a long time.

"Oh! My dear Crown Prince! Please forgive my rudeness and impoliteness!"

The door to the reception room was suddenly pushed open.

Pierre de Cousseau, the French Ambassador to Greece, burst in like a whirlwind.

He was slightly overweight, with a meticulously groomed mustache, wearing a stylishly tailored Parisian tuxedo, and carrying a tall silk hat. He exuded a flamboyant and passionate air, quite different from Harding's rigidity and seriousness, belonging to the Gallic rooster.

His gaze swept over the messy ground and Harding's ashen face, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes, but his face was plastered with an exaggerated smile.

He completely ignored Hardin's presence, walked straight up to Constantine, bowed slightly, and then, in an aria-like tone, said loudly:

"Your Highness! I've only just heard that our lovely Kingdom of Greece is experiencing a tiny... insignificant financial difficulty!"

As he spoke, he opened his arms as if to give all of Greece a hug.

"France, as Greece's most loyal friend, cannot stand idly by! I have come today specifically to bring you the goodwill from the Bank of France, and... the generosity of all our friends in Paris who love peace and art!"

He paused, building the atmosphere to its peak, and then announced in a volume loud enough for the entire palace to hear:

"—An unconditional emergency loan of five million francs!"

Boom!

This number and these words were like a boulder falling from the sky, crashing into an already turbulent lake and creating towering waves!

In that instant, Sir Harding's face turned from ashen to a deep purple!

He felt his blood rush to his head, and his ears were ringing.

French!

Those damned, opportunistic, shameless Frenchmen!

They actually dared to openly offer to kidnap him right in front of him! No, they offered to "buy" his country! Is there any justice in this world?

He turned his head sharply and looked at Constantine.

The young crown prince looked at the enthusiastic Frenchman with a "shocked" and "innocent" expression, then at his own extremely pale face, like a helpless girl being fought over by two burly men.

At that moment, Sir Harding realized he hadn't fallen into a trap.

He had fallen into a trap, an inescapable net of countless interlocking snares!

And at the very center of this web sits this Greek crown prince... who smiles like an angel, but whose heart is blacker than the devil!