Athena's projection dimmed for a fraction of a second, as if she were choosing the weight of her words.
"Mom," she said at last, her voice gentler than before, "I understand your hesitation and you don't need to feel guilty about it. Strategy and pragmatism dictate this is the best path while assuring our gains."
Ling Qingyu did not answer. She leaned back against the sofa, eyes half-lidded, the ceiling lights reflected faintly in her glasses resting on the table. The silence itself was an admission and a signal asking her daughter to resume.
Athena continued, unhurried.
"If you take control directly—through a government, a dictator, or even a proxy—you inherit causality. Every famine, every riot, every failed policy gains a face. And that face will be yours." Her eyes lifted. "Power that governs must also be blamed. The easiest solution that politicians relied on in the past is to transfer hatred."
Elena snorted from the side. "Scapegoats don't live long."
