Battle Of Planets
Chapter 57: Richards

Chapter 57: Richards

Nancy and her mother sat at the dining table, silently eating until her mother finally spoke softly.

"Have you spoken to him?" Mrs. Winters asked cautiously.

"I haven’t," Nancy said, tightening her grip on the fork. "I don’t want to trouble him, Mom. And... this is our problem, not his."

Her mother sighed. "But dear, we can’t figure this out by ourselves."

"I don’t feel like discussing it, Mom."

Pushing her chair back, Nancy stood up and left for her room, her chest tightening with frustration as she recalled everything going through her mind.

She collapsed onto her soft bed, releasing an exasperated sigh. Why now? When everything was going so well, her past had to resurface, like a shadow that won’t leave her alone.

She gazed at the ceiling, deep in thought, when her phone unexpectedly illuminated with a message.

It was Tyson.

Goodnight, my Princess!

A warm smile pierced through the storm within her. She read it once, then again, and again.

"Goodnight, my Dragon." She typed back, wishing—if only for a moment—that he could take her away from everything, like dragons whisk princesses away from their castles.

A thought struck her as she put down the phone—the White Dragon Fan Club. That page!

Intrigued, she looked for it, and a gentle smile spread across her face when it appeared. Without a second thought, she clicked the Follow button. The page featured posts about Tyson—his bouts, workouts, and intimate moments she had never witnessed.

Her eyes surveyed the infinite flow of admiration.

"Tyson is an absolute beast in battle! A true legend!"

"Ugh, his eyes are so dreamy... I’d totally let him ruin my life!"

"Check out that jawline! It’s perfect!"

Nancy laughed and shook her head at the over-the-top compliments. However, as she continued scrolling, one specific comment caused her smile to vanish.

"Tyson, I want you to be the father of my child!"

Her expression immediately darkened.

Excuse me?

She tightened her grip on the phone, irritation bubbling in her chest. How could she? The nerve!

If that girl ever confronted her, Nancy was convinced she’d bake her like cookies. No—more like she’d burn her like toast.

--

The next morning,

"My foolish grandson still has a lot to learn, Miss President," Richard remarked, his aged voice conveying both amusement and authority. The old man sat comfortably across from Seraphina in the small meeting room of the President’s office.

Seraphina placed her teacup down and gave him a courteous smile.

"I appreciate your sincerity, Sir Richard," she said, "but openly threatening the President of Elria is not something to take lightly. Considering everything that has happened recently—and all I have endured—I am susceptible to such issues."

Richard observed her quietly, keenly examining the young leader before him.

"Despite your presence, my decision does not change," Seraphina persisted.

A man in his late forties next to Richard winced at her words. "You’re young and—"

"Regardless of my age, I am the President of Elria," Seraphina interrupted. "I have the authority to accept or reject proposals as I see fit."

"You are exceeding appropriate boundaries," the man remarked sharply. "Even your father was required to demonstrate respect towards—"

Richard raised his hand, silencing him. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. "Good. Very good. You truly are Edmund’s daughter."

Seraphina met his eyes and returned a faint smile.

"As an apology for my grandson’s behavior, Richards & Sons will assume responsibility for rebuilding this city—without asking for anything in return."

"F-Father!" the man next to him stammered in shock.

Seraphina lowered her head gently. "Thank you for your kindness, Sir Richard."

The elderly man rose, readying himself to depart. "Take this as my blessing for your future as a leader."

"Thank you, Sir Richard," she said, observing him leave before releasing a soft sigh of relief.

"The elderly gentleman possesses remarkable cunning," she murmured, reflecting her thoughts discreetly.

"What do you mean, ma’am?" Lucy asked, confused.

She couldn’t understand why Seraphina would say something like that—especially after Richard had just agreed to take a significant loss for the city’s benefit. He was supporting the City.

Seraphina shook her head in disbelief.

"F-Father, why did you make an offer like that?" the man asked, rushing after the elder as they left the building. "I don’t understand why you made this choice."

A dark car arrived in front of them. Richard shook his head while settling into his seat, with his forty-six-year-old son closely behind.

Richard was the one who instructed Ron to negotiate with Seraphina, fully recognizing his grandson’s impulsive behavior. He understood that Ron would likely mishandle such a valuable chance, but still, Richard urged him to meet the President.

As anticipated, Ron caused chaos by boldly threatening the President of Elria and destroying a deal that could have yielded substantial profits for their company.

Today, Richard took a personal approach, aiming to persuade the young woman directly. However, instead of being swayed by his influence, she firmly rejected him.

His son sat next to him, lost in thought. Why did his father engage in such a risky game? Why waste an opportunity for power and wealth? They could have quickly closed this deal, but his father had something on his mind.

And above all—why did Richard appear so satisfied?

"To understand this girl," the old man said slowly, observing the buildings glide by as the car traveled down the street. "She is just as Edmund described."

"B-But why did we have to pay such a price just to understand her?" his son questioned, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Richard shook his head. "No wonder I have a grandson like Ron," he muttered. "This price is nothing compared to what I’ve learned."

His son paused before speaking again. "A- And what exactly do you understand, Father? Please, I want to understand too."

"That’s why I keep you close—to ask questions. It shows you have the desire to learn," Richard said with a slight smile. "Any outside forces won’t control her... but her family might be a vulnerability. Overall, this is the best outcome for Elria."

"How is it in our best interest if she can’t be controlled?" his son murmured. "I thought our goal was to control her."

Richard’s face contorted briefly before he hit his son’s head.

"F-Father, I apologize! I was in the wrong!"

"If you wanted to control her, you should have arranged an engagement between her and your foolish son," Richard snapped. "But you didn’t. And now, look where we are. If only she were my granddaughter, I could die content."

"I’m sorry, Father... I did ask Edmund for her hand on Ron’s behalf," his son admitted, rubbing his head. "But he refused immediately, saying she was in love with the General’s son."

He paused, then added cautiously, "But... if we can drive them apart, wouldn’t that make her available for Ron?"

Richard let out a weary sigh. "Alex isn’t like his father. He’s young, reckless, and lacks moral restraint. If we were to stir up trouble, he would retaliate in the worst way possible. Then you would finally grasp what true abuse of power looks like."

His son fell silent, rendered speechless by the warning.

"You should be grateful that she doesn’t want to pursue this matter any further," the old man said, "or else Ron would be in deep trouble."

"F-Father! Thank you for protecting my son," the man cried.

The old man shook his head. "Of course, I have to take care of my grandson, even if he’s just as foolish as you were."

The man smiled at his father’s words. "Thank you, Father."

---

The girl with pink hair smiled as she scrolled through the comments and discussions pouring into the fan club of her new favorite Ranger—none other than the White Dragon.

She hadn’t gotten a clear look at his face during the battle. With all the chaos unfolding, it had been too overwhelming to process, even for trainees—now officially called cadets.

Her friends had been part of the newly formed White Dragon fan page for some time, and her best friend was actually its founder. Naturally, after meeting Tyson in person, she secured a position as an admin. If nothing else, it gave her a bit of authority over his page—and she liked that.

"He’s really handsome," she whispered, gazing at a retouched image of Tyson, portrayed as an angel soaring in the sky.

Lara! I heard you’re in the White Dragon group!

A message popped up on her phone. It was from her best friend—the Tyson fangirl.

"Could you please share his picture when you go on drills with him? I would do anything for you, sis, please!"

Lara smirked, her fingers hovering above the keyboard.

"Well, that depends... what do I get in return?"

"I will make you a moderator. No—forget that—I will worship you as my goddess! Please!"

Lara chuckled at her friend’s frantic reply.

"Just make me a moderator like you, and I’ll see what I can do."

"Done!"

Satisfied, Lara locked her phone and pulled the sheets over her head, grinning to herself.

"Let’s go for training."

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