"There it is."

Time had reset.

The state of the world had been returned to a previous one, just as the hotel had come into sight of the group.

None of them had any memory of having met Eclaire, nor did such a person exist any longer within their minds.

Yet this was of no concern to them - for to these people, it was as if nothing had ever happened in the first place.

This was the true power of retry - the ability to completely erase everything and try again.

"I suppose we had best get going... after all, I would like to discuss things with this uncle of yours myself."

With an interested grin, Bradley made this comment to Isabella, who merely nodded at his words.

Thus - the five stepped forward, their outfits flaring with luxury that seemed to be an outlier within this destroyed world.

However in the distance, George caught sight of a person - at which he pulled out his pistol without the bat of an eye.

"There's someone approaching us. Remain cautious.", he ordered, at which the others prepared themselves for contact as well.

It was a woman.

She was dressed in black, which seemed to compliment her purely white hair, as if creating an intentional contrast.

She walked with confidence, approaching the group with a calm smile - not saying a word or making any hostile motions as she came towards the group.

"Who are you? Put your hands where I can see them, and don't make any sudden movements. Answer my questions clearly, and don't try anything funny or I WILL shoot.", George barked out - perhaps his instincts as a policeman taking over as he forcefully applied his words on someone who may or may not have been an enemy.

"Wait, wait just a minute. I'm not here to fight."

Putting her hands up, the woman stopped her approach as she called out to the group in a plea for them to listen.

"Did I stutter? I said who are you? Who are you working for? What is your purpose? Answer the questions or my gun will be the one doing the talking."

George didn't seem to be taking any bullshit, which surprised even Marcus.

From what Marcus had seen so far of George, he was someone who had been fed up with the corruption he had witnessed among the police force, but the fact remained that he likely had to deal with many petty criminals - thieves and drug dealers, vandalists and perhaps sometimes even small-time murderers.

He knew exactly how to forcefully take control of a person who couldn't be trusted.

The fact that he was now posing as a gang member only furthered his use of such threats - for such things would actually keep him in character.

"Who I am. Eclaire Armstrong. Spokesperson of the 4th Branch of the Street Rats Gang. My purpose is to invite the five of you to attend a banquet with our Leader. As for the reason, he wishes to establish contact with any survivors in the region in order to do business with them. Do you all accept this invitation?"

Keeping her arms above her head, the white haired woman didn't show a single sign of being flustered - despite being held at gunpoint.

As if such a thing was not a threat in the first place.

She merely fired off the answers to the questions as if they had been practiced, and in the same sentence managed to get her own purpose across, tossing the ball back to the group.

"Lady Isabella. Do you know this woman?", George asked, keeping his weapon focused on the target.

"I have never personally met her, however that is because I never met with any of the executives of the Hotel - only with Uncle Gerard and his Janitor. Most of the branches tried to keep out of one another's business, so contact was typically only made with executives between branches, but in the case of the Fourth Branch, even that was limited."

"So what you're saying is that even if she is telling the truth and she is a spokesperson for the 4th branch, you wouldn't know?"

"That is correct. Furthermore, I have not met with Uncle Gerard for quite a while, so his executives may have changed during that time. I have heard that he has quite the competitive system in place as far as their selection is concerned."

The white haired woman seemed to wince as Isabella said these things, however she quickly corrected this as she overwrote her expression with a smile.

"Forgive me if I am being too prompt, but I do have a number of tasks to perform, and I cannot waste time sitting at the other end of your firearm. Would you mind making a decision so that I can continue my work?"

While George didn't flinch at this provocation, he was astounded at the woman's fortitude.

When a normal person was put at gunpoint, they would almost certainly fall in line out of fear of death, regardless of their experience - yet for whatever reason this woman seemed to have not a shred of that fear.

Was it merely because she was a member of the mafia?

Even those involved in gang violence would buckle at the threat of death. It was human nature to be cowardly.

Did she believe that he wouldn't fire?

George determined that this was the case - as he currently had no intention to fire upon the woman, however that didn't mean such a notion wouldn't change depending on the situation.

If she posed a threat or tried to attack, he would do so.

'So why... does she have no concern at all?'

"We'll accept the invitation. I believe that a conversation with Uncle will be beneficial to both parties. Perhaps we can come to some sort of agreement."

Isabella took the lead, acting as the leader of the group just as she had been instructed.

On numerous occasions she had taken a position of leadership for the third branch, and acting was no foreign concept to her.

Whether it was the role of a poor innocent young girl, or the role of a demonic elite without a shred of mercy - she would play it without fail.

"Very well. But I will have to request once more-"

"George, please lower your weapon. This woman is not an enemy. She is an ally."

While Eclaire was about to ask for the man to stand down, Isabella seemed to read the situation with ease, taking the initiative as she ordered her own 'subordinate' to cease his rude behavior.

"Of course, Lady Stirling. However if these people mean to underestimate you... then I will not allow such a thing."

Putting on an act of being irritated at having his master be so easily dismissed, the man lowered his weapon at her orders.

"Now, now, we will deal with that when it happens. For now, we should cooperate. Isn't that right, Lady Isabella?"

With a calm and casual smile, Bradley stepped forth with confidence as he spoke.

"After all, we're all Street Rats. No?"

Standing in front of the white haired woman, the red haired man flashed a pretty boy smile that perhaps would steal the heart of any woman.

Yet even so, Eclaire showed no signs of being taken in by such charms.

Closing her eyes, the woman turned around as she stepped forward, leading the way towards the hotel.

And then, with a light chuckle, she whispered her next words.

"Yes. I suppose we are."

----

A woman lay in a luxurious office, her body spread across a velvet couch.

This woman, who carried herself like a spoiled elite, was currently being tended to by a number of middle aged men.

Though they appeared to have been dressed up in a professional manner, their disheveled demeanor was something which could not be treated with such things.

Each man had a particular role. One was tending to the hair of the woman, carefully attempting to remove the curlers from it. Another was currently giving the woman a pedicure, while yet another carefully massaged her shoulders. Two were currently fanning the woman with large palm leaves in order to keep her cool.

The room around the woman was what looked to be a restored office - a place which was once luxurious, though disturbed by the Calamity. Even so, it appeared as if an attempt had been made to ensure that it was in pristine condition.

"Hey. You really haven't ever massaged anyone before. Didn't you have, like, a wife or something in the old world? Or maybe she was the one doing the massaging? Lower."

"Y... yes ma'am."

The woman let out a complaint while reading through a book - not bothering to gaze up at the man she lectured.

Yes, a book.

Were smartphones still available, she most certainly would have been scrolling through her phone, however electricity didn't seem to be up and running. For whatever reason, almost every electrical appliance in existence had been completely fried to its core.

While exceptions did exist, the generators for this building were dead. Even if some appliances hadn't been affected, the power which they required could not be supplied.

This created a situation where air conditioning was not possible. The sweltering heat of the summer was enough to fry a person - thus the men who were using palms as fans.

"This is so miserable... I can't believe that we really have to use these primitive things...", the woman complained with a groan.

Glancing up, the woman took a peek at her own pedicure - to which her eyes widened in disgust.

"Hey!!! What do you think you're doing using that one!? I said to use the red one!"

"Eh? But you didn't say anything about what color-"

"Hah? Are you questioning what I said?"

The woman gazed upon the man as if he were garbage, to which he immediately buckled.

"N- no ma'am. Forgive me. I must have not been paying attention."

"Absolutely fucking useless. Paint over it, oaf."

"Of course, ma'am..."

The woman continued to read her book, clearly disturbed yet frantically attempting to get some pleasure out of the current situation.

"It's all wrong... everything is wrong... why couldn't the world have just stayed how it was? I would have been surrounded by good looking men, with good personalities, who aren't just losers like yourselves. Ugh..."

Intent on voicing her disgust, the self esteem of the men around her was depreciated further as they were informed that they were nothing more than backups - the best available alternative.

"The fact that you need to be surrounded by such men in the first place just shows how spoiled you are, doesn't it?"

Slamming open the door as she spoke these words was another woman - this one with long black hair.

"You don't have any right to say such things about me, Valerie."

"I don't? Melissa, you have a report to make to the Owner. Are you sure you should be lounging about with these men when you haven't even done anything worthy of reporting?"

"Gentlemen. Please leave the room."

The one known as Melissa made this order, at which all of the men who were caring for her immediately ceased what they were doing, getting up and heading out without another question.

They all walked past Valerie, immediately leaving before shutting the door behind them, leaving the two alone.

Once she had confirmed that the men were left, the woman sat up, a couple of curlers falling from her head as she did so.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"What the hell are you talking about!? These men have done quite a bit of work to restore the hotel. And whose achievement is that?"

"Would it not be the achievement of Eclaire, who found those men scavenging the streets and brought them to the Owner in the first place?"

"Hell no! She may have found them, but all she did was bring them here. I'm the one who convinced them to stay and work for us."

"By promising that you would step on their faces?"

"T... that's besides the point!! I have nothing to do with their disgusting... ngh... that's just how men are! You have to be willing to do things like that to manipulate them into doing what you want! Otherwise they would have just tried to leave, and Yakov would have killed them!"

"I suppose that's right. But in all likelihood, Yakov would have been able to force them to work for the Owner through brute force. Yet you stepped up and made them your own personal servants. Some of those men were married and with children too before all this. To think they would give into such primitive desires... well, I suppose that's what makes them so easy to manipulate."

With a sigh, Valerie seemed to turn around as she made her exit.

"Whatever. Do as you please. But understand that with every person she brings back to us, Eclaire looks better and better. I know she's planning something, and I have no intention to allow her to remain an executive."

"You don't need to tell me that twice. Why the fuck do you think I'm making those men my dogs?"

Snapping back as Valerie placed her hand on the doorknob, the brown haired woman known as Melissa spoke in a dominant tone.

"So that everything they achieve is credited to me."

"You have twenty minutes before the meeting. Don't be late. All of this is unnecessary."

Waving as she motioned around to the makeup and hair care that Melissa was surrounded by, the former rich girl became indignant at the comment.

"Appearance is everything!! Don't you understand that the only reason Gerard even cares for that wench is because he likes her-"

"If changing your appearance could solve everything, then life wouldn't be so complicated. But I suppose you're right."

As she left, the door began to close behind Valerie as she walked off.

"It does solve a lot of problems."

----

"Yakov. Weren't they supposed to arrive two minutes ago?"

"They most certainly were, however I believe we should give them the benefit of the doubt over a trifle such as this, Sir. Something important could have come up, or perhaps they are all fretting over how they look before they meet with you."

"Heh... do you think so?"

"Without question."

While Gerard sat at a desk in the center of a grand office, Yakov stood directly beside him, hands folded behind his back as he stood at attention.

"It's already been a few days since this thing happened... I guess everyone is getting back to business as usual. If I remember, Eclaire is doing pretty well gathering people from the outside as new hires."

"That is correct Sir. Because there is no longer a law to keep us in check, we are free to obtain labor without even relying on contracts or debts as we used to. All it takes is to simply invite such people inside, and never allow them to leave."

"And the restoration... is it progressing well?"

"I myself have not exactly been focused on such a thing. I have been too busy ensuring that everyone has been kept in check, given the growing number of people. However I do believe that Melissa will have a better answer for you when she arrives."

"Is that so? Alright. Guess I'll just have to wait for her report then."

A few minutes passed, at which the man had placed his feet upon the desk, closing his eyes as if to take a nap before a knock was heard at the door.

"Come in."

The man called out and the door opened slowly, three women filing into the room quickly as they stood in a line before their boss.

"Good morning Sir.", Celia said quietly.

"Good morning? Good morning, I suppose. Do you have any good news to go along with this good morning of yours?"

"Er... um..."

The blonde haired girl found herself at a loss of words, to which Melissa forced back a sigh as she spoke up.

"As you might have noticed, reconstruction is proceeding nicely. I've been able to sedate most of the men who had joined us from the outside, and so there have been very few incidents of runaways or rebels."

"Might I add that the few incidents we did have were cleaned up quite swiftly.", Valerie added with a boastful smirk.

Each of the women seemed focused on placing their own achievements forward, which lightened the expression of the man they reported to.

"That certainly is good news. And you, Celia? Do you have anything to report to me?"

"I... I was able to find one of the traitors!"

The girl shouted this out, clearly not accustomed to speaking of her own achievements.

"That is correct. A man approached Celia with the intent of 'saving' her from this place. She informed me and he was taken care of quite quickly.", Yakov added.

"Saving her... what a load of hogwash. He acts as if this place is some sort of hell. Well, good work either way. I assume he's been..."

"He was taken to the basement level. While most clients aren't interested in men, there are exceptions.", Yakov reported promptly.

"It isn't going to be easy to find any clients who can afford the basement in this rubble... I guess we'll have to lower our prices a bit. But either way, we'll need to find some larger groups in the first place. Has there been any word from Eclaire on that?"

As Gerard brought up the name Eclaire, Melissa couldn't seem to hide her displeasure.

"Sir... with all the respect... was there really a need to give that woman another chance at having an executive position?"

"Are you questioning my decision?"

"N- no... of course not. It's just that... she betrayed you already. I simply can't wrap my mind around why you would be so merciful as to give her another chance. Isn't it extremely likely that she is planning to betray you again?"

"If that's the case Yakov will reveal her schemes. Isn't that right, Yakov?"

"That is correct, Sir."

Standing up now, Gerard stood in front of the three as he walked around his desk.

"You see... I have a dream. A dream to reign over this place. But not just as it is right now. If this place is my nation, and I am a King, then I'm nothing more than a minor ruler - someone who has control over an insignificant country that has no power."

Motioning his hands with grandeur, the man looked to the three with a disturbing grin as his eyes flickered with greed.

"I want to reign over a nation that has so much power that nobody could ever dare to go against me."

Folding his hands behind his back, the man chuckled to himself as he exposed his dreams to the three.

"And in order to do that, first we have to expand. We have to take over people, just as any nation would. And even if the people we take over aren't pleased with the one who rules over them - that will be fine so long as we can stop them from rebelling."

Gazing at Valerie in particular, Gerard looked her up and down as he stroked his mustache.

"You will assist me in preventing such rebellion, no?"

"Of course, Sir."

Turning to the blonde haired woman who was pathetic in almost every manner, the man placed his hand on her chest, molesting her freely with a lecherous glare.

"And you... your job is that of the fool. You may be useless in most things, but the fact that a man wanted to save you is exactly your purpose, Celia. You're supposed to seem innocent. You're supposed to be stupid. You're supposed to be someone who any man would WANT to save. Because this way, we can root out any traitors before they can even try to pull anything off."

The girl held her breath the entire time as the man spoke, unable to say anything in response until he finally took his hand away from her, to which she merely nodded briefly, eyes closed in fear.

"And you, Melissa. You're supposed to be the diplomat. The elite. The one who controls people. So you were able to seduce a few lonely men who had lost their women after the calamity? That's wonderful - but I need more from you. I need you to control more than just lonely men. Can I trust you to seduce even the ones who are powerful in order to make us worthy allies?"

"There is nobody better suited for the task, Sir."

With a smile that she forced upon herself, the brunette woman said these words - though her thoughts were filled with immense vulgarities towards the man.

"Then that's enough. Continue your work. I expect to see more results when you report to me a week from now. Is that understood?"

"Yes Sir."

The three replied in unison as they took their bows and left, immediately heading out the door in single file, to which the man pulled out a cigarette.

He flicked the lighter a few times, failing to get a flame until after multiple attempts until finally he succeeded.

Taking a puff in, the man fell backwards into his seat as he looked up to the ceiling above him, irritation coming across his expression.

"Tch... these things really aren't the same as cigars. Yakov."

"Yes?"

"Keep an eye on those three. Eclaire as well. I know that you won't betray me, but they have to be kept in check above anyone. If they decide to go against me, then can I trust you to eliminate them without any further casualties?"

"You already know that."

With a chuckle, the older gentleman stepped forward as he prepared to take his leave as well.

"If they so much as tried to go against you, then they would be underground before they could even realize that a grave had been dug."

However right as the man grabbed the handle, there was a knocking at the door.

Opening it, Yakov was met with a woman - one he knew well.

"Ah... Eclaire. Are you here for your report as well?"

"Not quite. As a matter of fact, I've brought some guests of interest. I had led them to the restaurant where a banquet was prepared, but I thought it best that the Owner and all of the executives were gathered."

"Ah? Come on in, Eclaire."

Waving for the woman to enter, Gerard spoke from his desk as he motioned to the woman.

Entering with a smile, the woman carried herself with class, not hesitating for a second as she gazed upon the Owner with eyes that would eat up any man.

"Sir. I happen to have met with a few particular people who claim to be from the third branch."

"The third branch!? So Sheldon is still kicking, is he now? Haha... that kid... is he here, or is it just his subordinates?"

The man seemed to be immediately interested at the mention of his nephew, however the woman nodded her head with a grave expression.

"I'm afraid Sheldon was caught up in the calamity. He didn't survive. The one who is present here is the one that he had designated to take over the third branch."

Opening her eyes, Eclaire spoke the name which sent shivers down the spine of even the Owner of this hotel.

"Isabella Stirling."

----