Chapter Ninety-One: The Shape of War

A female server gave Lucy an awkward but courteous smile and said, “This masked gentleman is right. Our restaurant is one of the finest in all of New York, and our prices are also very, very reasonable.”

The masked gentleman?

Kyle felt a little embarrassed, though it was true enough—he still had not even taken off his hat or sunglasses, and dining indoors like this was indeed rather odd.

After thinking for a moment, he asked, “Do you have private rooms here?”

“Private rooms?” The server paused, then answered quickly, “I’m sorry, sir. We do have a few private dining rooms, but they must be reserved at least a week in advance, and only VIP guests of our restaurant may request one.”

“How troublesome.” Kyle frowned slightly.

“Forget it. It’s only lunch. As long as we get enough to eat, that’s all that matters,” Lucy said gently and understandingly.

The server beside them was speechless. Other customers came here for the atmosphere and charm; these two, at a top-class restaurant, seemed to be treating it like an ordinary meal.

She began to wonder whether the masked gentleman at this table could even afford the final bill.

Lucy ordered a simple steak, while Kyle requested several other Western dishes and some red wine. During the process, the server even carefully confirmed the names of each dish, afraid he had mistaken the prices.

After the server left, Kyle shrugged and removed the large hat from his head, revealing a head of dazzling, striking blond hair.

“Masked gentleman...” Lucy covered her mouth and laughed quietly, her eyes curving into crescent moons. Her already striking beauty became even more captivating, drawing the gazes of several gentlemen nearby, though they quickly looked away again when their companions gave them cold reminders.

Kyle said helplessly, “Look at you laughing like that. If you ever want to eat here again, I’ll get you a VIP card so you can come often.”

“No way.” Lucy refused firmly. If she had not failed to buy ingredients ahead of time this time, she would have preferred to keep Kyle at home and never let him out, enjoying the warmth of their private time together to the fullest.

If people knew that the man beside her was Kyle himself, the women dining elegantly in this restaurant would likely go mad over him, perhaps even abandoning their dates altogether and throwing flirtatious glances his way.

This was no exaggeration. Last year, Kyle had left the runner-up far behind—the second place being Steve Rogers—and was elected the number one dream lover of American women by a margin of three times the votes.

And this year, in less than four months, Kyle had already secured the top spot, becoming the perfect man that New York girls and married women most wanted for a one-night stand.

Lucy also had a small social circle, and among her female friends, whenever there were promotional films, magazines, or newspapers about Kyle, they would be the first to buy them and show them off.

It was easy to imagine how great Kyle’s charisma as a superhero was on the American continent, especially in New York.

While Kyle and Lucy were waiting for their food, a middle-aged man in a suit hurried into the dining hall and waved for the musicians to stop playing the violin. He walked to the center of the restaurant and immediately drew the attention of many diners.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I sincerely apologize for interrupting your meal,” the middle-aged man said with a bow. Then he added politely, “A major piece of national news has just been urgently published in the New York Times. Our restaurant will provide the newspaper free of charge, and we hope you will read it to learn the latest developments.”

“Mr. Henry, no need to be so polite. What exactly happened?”

“Didn’t Germany just lose the war? Our army has returned victorious.”

“I heard someone even saw General Kyle on the streets this morning.”

“Really?”

The guests began whispering among themselves. Owner Henry shook his head gravely and told them, “Please, read it for yourselves.”

With that, more than a dozen waiters each carried a stack of newspapers and quickly handed them out to every guest.

Kyle also accepted the New York Times from a server. Under normal circumstances, a top restaurant would not easily disturb its guests’ meal; it could only mean that this urgent news was far too significant in wartime.

On the front page of the New York Times was a photograph of German officials bowing their heads as they signed the surrender agreement, signaling that Germany, one of the principal powers that had ignited the world war, was about to withdraw completely from it.

The European theater was fully settled.

This was already a battle report long since concluded, and it did not surprise Kyle, the greatest contributor to this campaign. What caused the restaurant owner to look so grave should not have been this news item.

Kyle turned to the next page of the newspaper. The printing on the second page looked somewhat rough and hasty, as though it had been added for a temporary bulletin.

On the black-and-white page was the scene of a middle-aged to elderly man lying in a hospital bed, having peacefully closed his eyes forever.

Around the bed stood more than a dozen congressmen and officials, as well as General Chester, all wearing heavy expressions of mourning.

The headline read: “Franklin Roest dies suddenly this morning at the age of 62, the longest-serving president to be re-elected.”

At this, Kyle was startled. Only then did he understand why the restaurant owner had looked so solemn and worried.

At the most crucial closing stage of the Second World War, the sitting president had died of illness. The impact on the country, and even on the course of the world war, was simply too great.

“The Second World War must end as soon as possible. If it drags on any longer, something unexpected may happen...” Kyle narrowed his eyes, immediately grasping the key point of the news.

The Soviet Union had sent super agents to cause trouble even while they were supposed to be allies. Now, with the American side dealing with the president’s sudden change, if the war and its chaos continued further, the overall structure of the world war might well shift again because of it.

Kyle suddenly remembered General Chester’s hesitant expression when he had come to pick him up at the New York military base last night.

“Kyle.” Lucy lowered the newspaper in her hands and looked anxiously at him across the table.

“It’s nothing.” Kyle smiled freely and said softly, “Just a bit of a pity. This rare holiday, which has barely even begun, will probably have to end now.”

A war hero returning to the army would be able to raise the morale of the soldiers at the front. It could also be considered the final duty of his rank as a major general.

More importantly, he had to accelerate the end of the Second World War.

The continuing world war left Kyle with no room to spare. Only when the world returned to peace and stability would it become possible to begin cultivating his own family power.

Only after the war ended could all plans related to the future truly be prepared and expanded.

“Miss, your steak is ready. Please enjoy,” the server said as she placed the steaming steak on the table. Lucy bit her lip lightly, feeling that her appetite and mood had both faded.

“Don’t worry. There’s already almost nothing on the battlefield that can truly threaten my life. After all, I’m Kyle,” he said with a smile, lifting his stemmed glass and tilting his head back to finish the red wine in one swallow.