1885, I came to save Greece

Alexandros's breath caught in his throat for a moment.

He looked at the heavy money bag on the table, then at the young, upright figure by the window, as straight as a javelin, and a chill ran down his spine.

Monitor the Prime Minister!

This is an unprecedented move. In constitutional monarchy Greece, the prime minister is the elected head of government, representing the will of parliament. For the royal family to monitor the prime minister is tantamount to a political earthquake; if leaked, the consequences would be unimaginable.

"Your Highness..." Alexandros's voice was hoarse as he tried to organize his thoughts to express his concern. "This...this is too risky. Prime Minister Deriplis has deep roots in Parliament. By doing this, we are essentially openly challenging the entire civil service system."

Constantine did not turn back.

His gaze passed through the palace windows and landed on the distant outline of Athens, as if examining a giant chessboard.

"Alexandros," his voice was calm, devoid of any emotion, "have you ever seen a wild boar cornered by hunting dogs?"

This question surprised Alexandros.

"It doesn't think, it doesn't weigh options, and it certainly won't surrender," Constantine continued. "It just lowers its head, bares its fangs, and charges forward recklessly, crashing into what it considers the strongest wall, because it foolishly believes that it can survive if it knocks down that wall."

"Dripples is now that wild boar."

Constantine turned around, his blue eyes devoid of any warmth.

"He won't bow down to me. Last night's confrontation has already caused him to lose face and his power is now hanging by a thread. He will only seek help from the force he believes can suppress me."

"For example, our 'protectorate,' the French. Or our mother's family, the Russians."

Alexandros felt his back was soaked with cold sweat. His Highness the Crown Prince had not only anticipated the Prime Minister's actions, but had even guessed exactly who the Prime Minister would turn to for help.

Constantine walked to the desk, ignoring the money pouch. He bent down and took out a black hardcover notebook from a locked drawer at the very bottom.

The notebook looks ordinary, without any badges or markings.

Constantine placed the notebook on the table and opened it.

Alexandros' pupils contracted sharply.

What was recorded there was not a diary, nor poetry, but a series of names. Following each name was the unit number, the police district, the year of discharge, and a series of brief notes and numbers.

"Alexandros, do you think that my years of studying in Europe have only been spent learning court etiquette and German?"

Constantine's fingers slowly traced over those names.

"My personal royal annuity is about 50,000 drachmas a year. My few small investments in Berlin and London also bring in about the same amount of income each year. It's not a lot, but it's not a small amount either."

"Enough for me to secretly fund some junior officers in the army who are ostracized because of their outstanding talents, enough for me to help some detectives in the police station who are marginalized because they refuse to go along with the corrupt practices, enough for me to buy a piece of black bread for the children of those veterans who shed blood for the country but live in poverty."

He closed his notebook and looked up at Alexandros, who was completely stunned.

"They are few in number and low in rank, but they are my eyes and my ears. They do not obey the Secretary of War, the Secretary of the Interior, or the Prime Minister. They are loyal only to me, Constantine."

A powerful aura emanated from Constantine. Only then did Alexandros realize that before returning home, the Crown Prince had already secretly woven his own web—a small, yet incredibly resilient web, powerful enough to strangle the enemy at a crucial moment.

"Now, I need you to be the one to orchestrate this network."

Constantine's voice returned to calm as he began to issue specific instructions.

"Take the money and go expand your manpower. Be quick, but don't be sneaky."

"We don't need to infiltrate or eavesdrop. Our people are openly present on the streets around the Prime Minister's residence, in those cafes and pubs. Everyone is dressed in their finest clothes, like a group of idle gentlemen."

A cold smile curled at the corners of Constantine's lips.

"Our explanation was: given the heightened emotions of the recent patriotic demonstrations in Athens, to ensure the Prime Minister's absolute safety, the Royal Family has dispatched security personnel to conduct 'protective patrols' around the residence. This is an impeccable excuse, and even if Deriplis were furious, he wouldn't be able to utter a single word against it."

Alexandros's eyes lit up. He realized this wasn't just surveillance; it was pressure, a political demonstration!

"The focus of surveillance is not Deriples himself, but all the messengers who leave the Prime Minister's residence."

Constantine's gaze sharpened.

"Dripples is inherently suspicious, and he wouldn't trust ordinary servants with such confidential matters. He would only use his most trusted confidant, a man named Andreas."

Constantine closed his eyes, as if recalling a scene in his mind.

"Andreas, about forty years old, of medium build, slightly overweight, with thinning hair. He has a habitual little habit of frequently pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose with his right index and middle fingers when he's nervous. He always carries a brown leather briefcase, with an inconspicuous scratch on the lower right corner."

This description, down to every single detail, sent chills down Alexandros's spine.

"Find him. Keep an eye on him. I need to know immediately where he goes after leaving the residence and who he meets."

An invisible spider web has quietly begun to unfurl in the power center of Athens.

The foolish prey was completely unaware of this.

.......

Time passed by, second by second.

Athens transitions from the hustle and bustle of the morning to the languidness of the afternoon, eventually sinking into the golden afterglow of dusk.

Constantine's bedroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

He was engrossed in reading a German technical manual about Krupp's latest field gun, completely absorbed in it, as if nothing around him mattered.

Finally, there was a gentle knock on the door of the palace.

Alexandros pushed open the door and entered. His footsteps were light, but the barely suppressed excitement on his face broke his composure.

"Your Highness."

Constantine didn't look up; he simply turned a page of his book.

"explain."

"The target has been spotted." Alexandros lowered his voice and spoke rapidly. "Just ten minutes ago, a man who perfectly matches your description left through the side gate of the Prime Minister's residence. He didn't take a carriage; instead, he walked and turned into the alley to the east."

Was he carrying a brown leather briefcase?

"Yes, Your Highness. Our men have confirmed that there is indeed a scratch on the lower right corner of the bag."

Which direction did he go?

"Currently, it appears he's heading north towards the embassy district. Based on his chosen route, there's a 90% chance his final destination will be the French Embassy."

Constantine finally closed the book.

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the last rays of sunset on the horizon, which resembled congealed blood.

A sinister and cunning face flashed through his mind. Deriples, you certainly didn't disappoint me.

"very good."

Constantine spoke softly to a corner of the shadows in the palace.

There was no one there.

But the next second, a man dressed in the uniform of the Royal Guard captain, with a figure as tall as an iron tower, silently emerged from the shadows and knelt on one knee.

"Your Highness."

A cold smile appeared on Constantine's lips, and his voice was as chilly as a winter night's wind.

"Proceed according to plan."

"Remember, act like it was an accident."