Chapter 2: Contradictory Truths

The knights had slept through the majority of the previous day, too exhausted from their brush with death to bother worrying about their current circumstances. But now that they were refreshed and slightly recovered from the ordeal, Suzaku thought the time was right to inform them of the emperor's plot. Lelouch had allowed them to leave their rooms under heavy guard, and they were now sitting comfortably in the Knights' Lounge.

Dorothea was already on her second glass of whiskey, and Gino sipped at a sweet mixed drink with a more mild alcohol content as he stared furiously at the traitor who was sitting in front of him. He really had gone crazy.

"That," Gino declared after he swallowed his mouthful, "has to be some of the biggest bullcrap I have ever heard in my life! What comes after Lelouch is replaced? Everyone just gets along like there was never any bad blood?"

Suzaku sighed, knowing that this would have been the inevitable response all along. "Gino," he attempted to salvage the discussion in any way he could, "remember when that servant girl you fell in love with was thrown out of your home? How do you think-?"

"This is all about revenge, isn't it?!" Gino demanded as he rose so he could plant his hands on the coffee table and sneer at his former friend. "He's punishing the Truebloods so they know how it feels to be oppressed."

"Precisely," Suzaku affirmed, briefly pointing his finger like he was marking the proper idea.

"Oh yes, it's so noble!" Gino began to rant as he whirled around so he could begin pacing, gesturing madly as he raved. "Showing everyone that we're totally willing to cast aside our morals to serve the emperor! Wouldn't that make us just as sinful as Lelouch by the end of it? I don't want to have to go into hiding for the rest of my life just because of the crazy idea of some lunatic lost prince who has an ego bigger than the entire empire!"

"It's a pretty crapshoot idea," Dorothea concurred, though her demeanor was much more docile thanks to her usual consumption of alcohol to cope with the depression her harsh past often put over her. "Something my adopted dad told me as a kid: . . ." She set her glass down so she could lean forward, her head mildly buzzed but thoroughly relaxed enough to discuss the situation calmly. "'Britannians don't hate you, Dorthy. They're only acting on what they're told because it's most convenient for them.' I never understood what he meant by 'convenient' until I saw the true state of the government once I joined the Round. They aren't just taught to hate us Numbers. It's indoctrinated into them. It's like . . . if any of them defect to treating us like we're human, that one is no longer worthy of being called a Britannian. A part of me fears that this plan of Lelouch's could coalesce into a faction war. The one who everyone hates is gone. There's no aristocracy to mop things up. And those deep-rooted prejudices are still buried deep within everyone. So . . . chaos ensues. That's it. Even the very concept of Britannia goes extinct and is swallowed up by the conquest of encroaching countries. It leaves a gaping hole in the power system that can be so very easily exploited by anyone who wants to take revenge."

"You can't change the views of an entire population so quickly like this!" Gino agreed. "Besides, isn't somebody going to question how suspicious it is that he happened to die during a big parade? And who's to say you would even be able to win the war against Schneizel? And are you willing to fight Anya, Nonette, the Glinda Knights, and your punk child-killing friend?"

Suzaku's eyes lit with fury, and he was up before he could even attempt to temper his rage. "Why you . . ."

Gino grinned smugly, satisfied that Suzaku knew how much of what Lelouch and his followers had done was unjustifiable. "Oh yeah, it was so worth it in the end, wasn't it? Millions of innocents sent to a terrifying demise all for the selfish vengeance of a bratty teen who couldn't see the bigger picture."

"Yes, other people suffer for these causes," Suzaku agreed before taking deep breaths to keep himself measured enough as he sat back down. "But look at us, Gino. We claim we're diplomats—representatives for the people, even the oppressed Numbers themselves. But aren't we all just war criminals in the very end like the Black Knights? How is that different from following Lelouch?"

"Because we were working against the system that was oppressing the weak, even if it was subtle. With enough time, we could have made a difference."

"'With enough time.' . . ." Suzaku shut his eyes and struggled to keep his temper in check. "With more time, millions more would have died beneath Charles's heel."

"And by trying to incite change so quickly through fear, Lelouch has probably already caused a body count higher than Britannia has in the last century. That's the crux of it, Suzaku. Why should I be the one who is directly responsible for such mass murder in the service of a man who is willing to do literally anything for change?"

Suzaku paused, thinking about a specific choice of words Gino had used. "You say that . . . you don't want to be directly responsible for murder? So that's the difference—doing what Charles asked of you versus what Lelouch believes is necessary?"

"All we did was help to keep the peace. Lelouch wants me to bomb civilians if they start to rebel. This isn't a job for someone with a heart."

Suzaku continued to silently consider his friend's reasoning. Finally, he removed his folded hands from his mouth and addressed Dorothea. "What about you, Dorthy? Are you with us or not?"

Dorothea had finished her second glass of whiskey and was now sitting with her arms crossed in front of her, leaning back while her brow knitted thoughtfully. "Suzaku," she began reflectively, "you know that I never knew my real father because he was just a random rapist who impregnated my mom. I was taught to hate Britannians for most of my young childhood. Yet we were forced to work for them just to survive. But once my step-dad took us in and showed us kindness, I too began to see that not every Britannian is a monster.

"Yet my neighbors and peers still hated me for the color of my skin. For the Arabs in the slums, it was our association with the Britannians and my mixed blood with the 'djinn.' It was that hatred that caused them all to finally raid our mansion, viewing us as freaks of society. Once I made it to Japan after running from the destruction, maybe it was my identification as the daughter of a noble that actually got me into the military—even if it wasn't by blood—but I was proud to be the only Arab serving in the Britannian forces, following in the footsteps of my real father. Yet the discrimination was still there. My peers didn't finally respect me until I was knighted. But, slowly but surely, it was happening. Now, here I am, the Knight of Four and living a dream that seemed unattainable to my people. I've made so many Britannian friends who I was able to help get past their biases.

"But then," she sighed as her body relaxed a little bit more, "along came this kid with his tiny terrorist cell, possessing more pomp and swagger than his own father had in his sixty odd years. He upended the entire system and cost millions of lives in the process. You haven't the slightest idea how much I loathe that brat. All of my hard work was dashed to pieces in a matter of months and I lost so many dear friends. If he was anyone else, I'd just give into his looks and follow him to the end of the earth. But the price he was asking for to follow him was far too high. That's why I sided with Schneizel."

Suzaku's heart sank, and he was about to call the gamble a total loss and leave to inform Lelouch. But then Dorothea said something that simultaneously surprised him with delight . . . and shocked him with horror.

"Yeah . . . he's utterly destroyed the current system. So that's why I'm gonna see this to the end so I can watch him die with my own eyes. Only then can we finally rebuild. The world is gonna be a war zone. But it's not like we aren't all used to that by now."

Gino and Suzaku both stared at the woman in disbelief for different reasons. Gino was the first to say anything, naturally interjecting to the thought. "Dorothea, you can't be serious! This isn't-!"

"Right?" Dorothea finished for him, turning so she could look him in the eye with a smirk. "We've gone far past the limits of morality here, Gene. This is about whoever winds up on top—or rather, on the bottom—by the end of it."

"Exactly! So why would you want to side with him if the ones who are in the right are on the bottom? Isn't there nobility in failure just this once?"

Dorothea fiddled with her cloak a little, bunching a tiny bit of it in her right hand nervously. "You know where Monica is, Gene?"

Gino stammered a little, remembering that the other younger officer hadn't joined them for the meeting. "Um . . . No, I don't. . . ."

Dorothea turned to him again and smiled sheepishly. "I asked Suzaku about it last night. She's really tight-lipped, I guess. Too pure for her own good, as usual. So Lelouch put her in the dungeon until she starts to cooperate." The desperation in her eyes was clear. Maybe she was in part doing this to keep her younger sister figure safe.

But Gino's resolve was firm. Squaring his shoulders, he declared in a proud voice while staring hard into Suzaku's eyes, "I will never willingly join you, Suzaku. You'll have to have Lelouch mind control me to get me to serve him." Now that he had said it out loud, it scared him so very much. He was essentially signing his death warrant.

Dorothea was tempted to interject, but she had to respect his sense of morality. For her, it was more about survival than anything else. She was disgusted by everything Lelouch had done, but there was no sense in throwing her life away just to make herself feel better about her ideals. And she could be satisfied that Lelouch was digging his own grave. That was enough of a reward for her to see before the world descended into Hell.

But as Gino was led away by the guards back to his room, he remembered his complacency the previous day; and now that he had made his final decision, he didn't know if he should be proud of himself or not. He knew that he was too valuable for Lelouch to waste.

That prospect was infinitely more terrifying than death.

Lelouch adjusted his collar in the mirror. Was he too nervous for this meeting? It felt more like a date than a plea for cooperation. Of course, when a girl as extraordinary as Monica Krushevsky was involved, it was natural to feel a little excited.

"You're blushing," C.C. admonished him from her usual position sprawled over the bed with a box of pizza open.

"Heh. Wouldn't you be?" Lelouch excused himself as he adjusted his bangs a little bit. "She's quite unusual for a noble of Britannia, you have to admit."

"In that she's idealistically moral and beautiful and has hair like the very rays of the sun? Not to mention she's about your exact age. She'd make a perfect First Consort, you have to admit."

Lelouch peered at her humorously in the mirror. "Are you suggesting I take such a tremendous leap? I'm a romantic at heart, C.C., but there are certain boundaries that I don't cross for the sake of decorum."

"Well . . . Lelouch Lamprouge may see things that way. But what about Lelouch vi Britannia?"

Lelouch admitted that he was stumped by the question. There was a dyad going on between his natural morality and desire for vengeance, with both fueling his actions for this plan. His ultimate goal for the Knights of the Round was to show them that the ones they choose to follow can grind them into the dust on a mere flight of fancy. This would be quite an effective lesson for the world as a whole if he took such an initiative.

And if he really wanted to make an example of her, who was to say she would even need to be his wife? But . . . could he do that, even if he would ultimately pay for all of his sins?

"An avenue for consideration, I suppose," he excused the unnerving subject as he wrapped the frilly cravat about his neck.

"That doesn't match."

"Hm?" Lelouch stared in the mirror at his choice of embroidery, which was a deep purple in contrast to his baby-blue suit. "Looks regal to me."

Sighing in frustration, C.C. picked herself up and selected another ascot from the rack in the closet and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. If she would bother to express any emotion whatsoever, she would be exuding pure smugness. "In the 17th century, absolutely," she remarked in complete seriousness. "I swear, men should have learned this lesson by now. Hold still, Your Majesty."

Lelouch remained silent as she undid his work and put on the white cravat in place of the violet one. The scent of cheese and grease wafted off of her while she worked, tingling his nostrils. It was such a familiar smell that comforted him through everything that was going on. Everything that was all his fault.

"Okay," C.C. interrupted his idle musings, and she took a few steps back to admire the emperor's slightly less formal attire for this special breakfast, "knock her heels off, Your Highness. Make her swoon so much she won't even have a chance to say no."

Lelouch groaned and laughed in unison. "Unfortunately, that seems to be my true specialty. Look out, Lady Krushevsky! A very lonely and angsty mastermind is coming for your loyalty!"

C.C. frowned concernedly as she watched him leave, hugging herself as she went over everything he had told her about his plans for the knights. Maybe, she thought desperately, she would finally have a mirror in the world in Monica when this would all be over. But the man she loved was already dying a slow, painful death. It was hard for her to decide if she would rather be loved or understood.

As Lelouch strolled down the hall, he was in a surprisingly chipper mood. He had confidence that he could get through to Monica, given her background and sympathies. But his other side was already plotting how he could destroy the trust he had earned from her—and all of the other knights, as well, provided they fully relented to his authority.

He hated how his dark side seemed to be showing itself more. The one who laughed in the cockpit of his Knightmare while the Tokyo Settlement crumbled. But the worst part about it was that he was enjoying it more and more when it did show itself.

How long would it be before it completely consumed him?

Pushing his growing doubts to the back of his mind, he entered the dining hall and beheld the large table with a truly bountiful spread that would unfortunately mostly go to waste. The servants in attendance of the meal bowed respectfully, their Geassed eyes staring ahead placidly, and one of them pulled out his chair for him to sit in. He was early, much to his surprise, and he spent the last few remaining minutes watching the seconds tick by on his pocket watch. At long last, his guest walked in.

Wow.

Monica was stunning enough in her skin-tight jumpsuit which showed quite a bit of her thighs and hips (though why her piloting outfit was designed in such a suggestive manner he could only guess) but his breath was completely stolen away from him when he caught sight of her in her sapphire-blue dress that matched her enormous, bright eyes. Her hair was properly brushed out now and her trademark red ribbons were keeping a few locks of hair together on each side of her face. He hadn't seen a woman this beautiful since . . .

His heart and stomach ached for a brief second, and he cursed Rolo for maybe the thousandth time. The rotten little murderer just had to go out so nobly. . . .

"Good morning, Miss Krushevsky," Lelouch greeted her as he bowed. "I hope you slept well?"

Monica frowned in contempt and didn't bother returning the respectful gesture. "My cell is drafty and cold and my mattress is hard. But at least you haven't tortured me. Yet. But maybe I would actually get some sleep from exhaustion."

"Your record never described you as so uncouth, Milady. Tenacious and spirited, yes; but never so, mm, snarky is the best word I can think of."

"You'll find I'm full of surprises, Lelouch. I have never been in proximity with a royal or aristocrat I didn't respect until now. Well, besides Bradley, of course."

"And my father?"

Monica seemed to not know how to respond to that.

"Please sit and we can discuss terms for your cooperation," he continued the charade. "I am curious to hear your views on my methods of ruling. And I hope for you to see things from my point of view."

"All I see is a man consumed by vengeance and pride," was her earnest response. "But I will accept the meal. I will need my strength for the interrogation."

"That would be completely unnecessary, in my case," Lelouch reminded her, keeping his chin set in his palm as he smiled charmingly. "I want to have most of you knights remain willful as a show of good faith. Please don't force me to use duplicitous means to convince you, Miss Krushevsky."

Monica tensed her shoulders in a quelled shudder before she finally committed to sitting down. The first thing she did was begin dishing some diced fruit up onto her plate, and she watched her captor from out of the corner of her eye. "Well? Let's hear it. Why should I forget my morals to—Hm?"

Lelouch had begun laughing. She could hear a tinge of sadism in it, exactly how he had acted yesterday when he had caught on to her fear and inexperience. Placing his hands on the table, Lelouch addressed her again. Though she swore that the face he now wore was another man's. This wasn't the reasonable young schoolboy whom she had spoken with only a few seconds before. His mentality had had a paradigm shift in almost an instant. "You speak of morals while consciously supporting my father's rule. How many times must I iterate this, Lady Krushevsky?"

Monica adjusted her posture so she hoped she appeared more imposing and continued to speak her mind. "Yet I see you treating your own people as well as the Numbers like mere junkyard dogs. How can you claim innocence while so consciously oppressing every citizen in the empire, be they Britannian or not?"

Lelouch pointed a finger in her direction, keeping it just beneath eye level with his elbow resting on the edge of the table. "Because it's fair."

His eyes. It was his eyes that scared her the most now. That genial innocence was gone and the monster beneath his mask was showing itself completely. He truly was insane.

"You call me a hypocrite when I see you doing the exact opposite of your original goal, Lelouch," she reminded him, stabbing another piece of fruit as she looked at him derisively. "How is also oppressing the Numbers 'fair'? Let me remind you of a matter that you surely saw on my service record: I always strive to treat Numbers with the respect they deserve as human beings. It has always been my goal to change how Numbers may see Britannians as a whole. In my brief service to Britannia, I have provided many charitable opportunities to impoverished areas—charities which got me a demerit on my record. I doubt that I ever would have risen above my rank of Twelve due to the fact that I was always at odds with the Emperor himself. Yet he still trusted me enough to keep me as Head of His Royal Guard. Hm?"

Lelouch had begun laughing again. This time, he seemed to be having trouble keeping himself together, his elbows on the table and his hands clasped together so he could rest his head on it. "Charities?! Oh, indeed, Lady Krushevsky! That makes such a difference in the world. Meanwhile, Britannia continued to expand and more people were slaughtered by the thousands. How long did you think it would take before everyone in the empire would be able to hold hands and sing Kumbaya together? Or . . . were you perhaps doing this for yourself? Hoping that maybe the guilt you share in your complacence could be wiped away?"

"I joined the military because my father was slaughtered by a terrorist like you!" Monica finally lost her temper. "Random acts of violence don't make people see your point of view, Lelouch! They only make everyone see how fully you have lost every trait of humanity within you!"

"Yet it is clear, Milady, that I am no man. My nickname says it all—I am a demon. Think it over: Why would I be acting in such a contradictory way if my goal was to originally free the Numbers? Madness? Yes, quite so. Desperation? Indeed. But when it comes right down to it, Britannia itself needs to see what it feels like to know suffering and hardship on such a level as the Numbers."

"But there's more to it than that," Monica recognized suspiciously. "I cannot fathom what your current purpose could be. Were you just planning on making the world suffer from the start? Or perhaps . . . ?" At long last, she caught on to his true intentions, and she couldn't help but stare in shocked disbelief. It was completely insane. A childish assumption, really.

He was going to throw the entire world into utter chaos, and it would be their job to clean up his mess.

She stared at him through narrowed eyelids while this fact dawned on her. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you would be so cruel."

Lelouch leaned back, thoroughly pleased that his purpose was finally dawning on her. But he couldn't afford to let her know the true end to his plan. Her role would be seriously compromised if she ever did. "Brilliant, isn't it? Everyone will be so captivated by their hatred of me that they will forget any bad blood they had with their fellow man. It may not last long, but it will break a destructive cycle that has been ongoing in Britannia for hundreds of years."

Monica couldn't help but stare in repulsed stultification. No. This was absurd. Despite her perilous position as his prisoner, she broke into a hearty laugh of derision that she could tell had instantly boiled his blood. "Such a childish notion!" she mocked him as she held her stomach and hooted with delight. "The world hates you so they automatically tolerate each other? Only someone who is utterly insane could believe it possible! Are you really so narcissistic?"

"Indeed I am, Monica!" Lelouch shouted in reply, and he stood up so he could place his hands on the table to lean forward. His expression was furious now, his eyes frantic and his mouth twisted into a grin of prideful spite. "I know this is bound to work! I am so close to my goal now that I can see it just on the horizon! Lelouch vi Britannia will be a name so despised by history that no one would ever dare to become like him for decades to come!"

Just then, Suzaku walked in, and the Knight of Zero hesitated when he saw Lelouch looming over Monica. Realizing that they were evidently having an argument, he waited for Lelouch to address him. It was almost scary how fast he was able to switch from being a dictator to a diplomat in only a few seconds. "Do you have their decisions, Sir Kururugi?" Lelouch asked him, and Suzaku nodded to the door so they could speak in private.

"There were a few slight divergences that are extremely curious, Milord," Suzaku informed him, his expression mildly desperate. "I wonder how we will be able to address them."

Lelouch joined him outside the dining hall without hesitation, knowing that the guards would be able to catch Monica if she ever tried to run away. "So—what do they think?" Lelouch appraised the situation with rapt interest. Suzaku could tell that the spite was still smoldering in his eyes. He feared how the emperor could respond to this in his current state of mind.

"Dorothea is for the idea, but only to rebuild the world once you are dead," he spilled the entire context of her loyalty clean out. "She holds you responsible for destroying any progress she had made with Britannia in accepting her race."

Lelouch's eyes continued to burn, and he was clearly thinking of some way to make her see things his way entirely. "And Gino?"

Unsurprisingly, Suzaku was nervous about this question. Well, at least Gino could be put to good use one way or another. "He wants nothing to do with it. He finds the idea ridiculous and is appalled by the idea of compromising his morals."

Lelouch froze, and he was suddenly gripped by a violent tremor as he began to laugh. "'Morals'? Another Goody Two-Shoes too deluded by the relative peace among the Britannian people to see the bigger issue. I will speak with them both later today. Now if you will excuse me, I have a meal to complete with a young Lady of the Round."

"Lelouch."

The emperor turned back toward his friend, frowning at the impertinence in his tone. "What is it, Suzaku?"

His confidant swallowed and suppressed a shudder before saying what was becoming a growing concern of his. "Don't let your act continue to become reality. I know you're in pain, Lelouch. But even if that pain helps to further our cause . . . I don't want to remember you as a true monster. Don't lose sight of yourself because of hatred."

Lelouch peered at him from beneath his bangs. His gaze was so distant and foreign. Maybe Suzaku really didn't recognize those haunted, angry eyes anymore. With a small, solemn nod, Lelouch opened the door to reenter the dining hall and marched straight for the table.

While Suzaku leaned against the wall beside the portal, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He didn't know if this was going to be worth it after all. Was the immaterial death of his friend truly worth it, even if it brought the world together for a a fleeting moment in the span of history?

But it wasn't like he had any say in the matter. He was just another cog, after all.

She must be the stupidest officer there ever had been in the history of the Britannian military. But she was desperate for the bloodshed to finally end. No—this plan was absurd, conjured by the mind of a lost child who had gone mad from his abandonment. But if the world was already dying, there was no need to prolong its suffering.

Dorothea stood before the emperor's study room, lost in her anxious thoughts. She hoped he wasn't going to Geass her so her doubts would be permanently expunged. But it wasn't like cooperation was expected to be anything more than an agreement.

Unless the dealer was extremely narcissistic. Then—well, she wouldn't know what her other options were. Unless Gino and Monica were lonely down in the dungeon. That would be the best-case scenario. . . .

The guard outside the door let her in as she approached, and she beheld the extremely young but admittedly gorgeous man sitting at his desk, his hands folded businesslike in front of himself. "Good day, Miss Ernst," he addressed her respectfully. "Would you care for some whiskey?"

"Had enough for the day," she refused the offer with a respectful wave of her hand. "Please just get to the point, Majesty. I'm sure you realize that I'm not exactly thrilled to be in your presence."

"Mmmm, your body says something different, Lady Ernst," he observed so casually while looking her up and down.

Dorothea had half an impulse to cover herself up. Just what was he talking about? "Pa-Pardon?" she exclaimed, realizing that he was using one of his key traits for manipulation. Why does he have to be so damn cute?

Lelouch rested his cheek on his hand and leaned back in his chair. "Your pupils dilate significantly every time you look at me and a very slight shade of redness can be distinguished from your lovely complexion. Also, you usual composure and posture is faltering a fraction. I am most flattered, Lady Ernst. But enough with the hackneyed romance tropes. I want you to know how serious I am about my purposes."

Dorothea caught on instantly as to why she was summoned and she shook her head resolutely. "I never said I was against your plan, Highness. All I said was that your end goal is not going to work."

Lelouch paused and continued to stew in his annoyance. Just because someone was intelligent did not truly make him wise, Dorothea thought to herself. "Well . . . there is that. Then there is your true reason for siding with me. To put things bluntly, Dorothea, you are a coward. Your entire purpose is to see me die by the end of this. That is quite the selfish worldview you have there."

"Says the hypocrite who brainwashed his sister to facilitate a massacre on the very people he was trying to free. You're a walking conundrum, Lelouch. You claim to have sympathy for the Numbers of Britannia, yet you now persecute them when you have all of the power in the world to grant them citizenship. I would serve you with a complete heart if you would change your mind from this ridiculous scheme and just be the emperor your father wasn't. But when it comes right down to it, I'm just another game piece. My loyalty is to Britannia and, most importantly, my home Area 4. So I'm going to see this insane game to the end so I can help my people to survive the fallout. You may fault me for serving Britannia despite Arabs being persecuted, but at least my reasons carry a semblance of sense. You're the antithesis of those reasons. And for that, I cannot condone this scheme. But I will carry out my duty to the best of my ability if it means a new world can be built from the ashes of this dying empire, Your Majesty. You have my word as a Knight of the Round."

Lelouch wasn't sure if he could accept such a promise, even if she was giving her word. His years of hatred for the royal family and aristocracy couldn't allow him to accept it. So he did the one thing that he knew would utterly seal her loyalty. In a flash, he had removed his contact lens from his left eye and imprinted his next words onto her very mind: "You will follow every order I give you regarding my military campaign and reign and never tell Monica of my planned death."

Dorothea felt her brain scramble, and the next thing she knew, she was dazedly shaking her head to clear away the fog, and she felt a burning desire to perform his wishes despite hating the idea. She stared at him in horror when she realized the true reason why he had called her here, and he only returned her gaze with a self-satisfied smile. "You are dismissed, Lady Ernst," Lelouch excused her, folding his hands in his lap, his eyes wicked and still displaying his Geass. "Although . . . I do hope we can continue these intimate conversations."

With her breath stolen away from utter disbelief, Dorothea retraced her steps back through the door and closed it behind her almost in a panic. Meanwhile, Lelouch watched her leave with a marked interest, already planning what he could do to make her time in his service as humiliating and shameful as possible.

"You're continuing to lose yourself," C.C. remarked off to the side of the room in a hideously overpatterned Queen Anne chair. "Do you really want this, Lelouch?"

Even though he was looking right at her, Lelouch couldn't help but allow his grin to grow even larger. "If it's for mankind itself, C.C., I'm willing to sacrifice my old self. It's not like I won't be paying for it in the very end."

C.C. resigned herself to quietly napping in the sunlight while Lelouch attended to some governmental duties at his desk. This wasn't how she wanted him to go at all, she thought to herself. Not to mention she had the distinct suspicion that he was, in fact, deluding himself of his noble intentions. Britannia needed a shot in the arm, to be fair; but it felt more like he was trying to remove the entire arm and replace it with one of his own design.

There was no way of knowing if that replacement would be compatible with the body. Maybe that was what made this so exciting.