As night fell, the Nikolaev Shipyard was shrouded in a thick layer of fog.

The visitors from the day had already departed, and the workers had long since returned to their homes to celebrate Orthodox Christmas with their families, a meager celebration though it might be, but still better than languishing in the shipyard.

Within the vast Black Sea Shipyard, only the old Director, Makarov, remained in his office, unwilling to leave.

The old man stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out the window at the No. 0 slipway under the night sky, his heart a mixture of emotions. Behind him, the pure mechanical watch produced by the former Soviet Union's military clock factory faithfully ticked away.

"Has it gotten this late without me noticing?"

A bitter smile appeared on Makarov's face as he quietly watched the snowflakes falling from the sky, his mind replaying the conversation that had taken place in this office that afternoon, as well as the special "dismantling" contract that he had seemingly read countless times.

"I never imagined that magic really existed in this world... and that it would appear before me at this time, in this way... Apart from being slightly unreasonable and opportunistic, there wasn't much room for choice..."

Whether it was the hope of completing the Ulyanovsk aircraft carrier, or the high deposit and valuable grain aid they offered, these were the things that the Nikolaev Shipyard and Makarov desperately needed and desired at this moment. As the head of the Nikolaev Shipyard, known for its punctuality, Makarov was well aware of the inconsistencies in the afternoon's negotiations.

When he opened the appendix to the contract and saw the last clause, "Tianming Group is responsible for the confidentiality work during the dismantling period," and considering the magical abilities displayed by the wizards, Makarov was ninety percent certain that something had been "forgotten."

"Some kind of memory-erasing magic?"

In fact, they didn't seem to have any intention of explaining or concealing this point.

"It seems that the negotiations this afternoon weren't entirely smooth. Although the surveillance footage from the gate and the guards' descriptions indicate that they only stayed in the office for a brief half-hour, the actual time must have been much longer! Such bizarre abilities are truly frightening... I wonder if I'm making a deal with the devil..."

Makarov frowned, trying hard to recall, but shook his head helplessly in the end. Apart from the incredibly smooth negotiation process, he couldn't find any information in his memory, as if time had suddenly been fast-forwarded.

However, in this situation, he would have been extra cautious if he were in their shoes…

After all, the organization was no longer as pure as it had been in the past, especially after Gorbachev dissolved the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. The situation had deteriorated even further, with many comrades being arrested and betrayed, and the red faith had long gone underground.

As for their opportunistic behavior, Makarov felt more sentiment than resentment. The once-vast alliance had fallen, and all clear-headed forces would try to get a share of the pie. Rather than let the traitors and capitalists reeking of capitalist corruption profit, it was better to choose comrades who inherited some of the same beliefs.

Taking a deep look at the slipway shrouded in fog outside the window, the old man returned to his desk and sat down, carefully considering the situation.

"According to the previous project progress, the atomic steam generator has already begun assembly in the workshop, and the main modular components of the entire nuclear reactor propulsion device have also been welded to the first circuit pump's piping system. No additional procurement of main steel materials is required, and anti-espionage work is being handled by the wizards. The only problem is the closing time of the slipway..."

"Even with 7*24-hour continuous operation, it will take at least half a year..."

Makarov's pen constantly wrote the various components of the aircraft carrier on the white paper, occasionally crossing out or circling some names, constantly calculating the possibility of shortening the construction period, his face full of seriousness and worry.

"Half a year is about the completion time for normal dismantling. No matter how the wizards use magic to conceal it, the slipway needs to be completely vacated before that time node, and the sooner the better..."

The old man suddenly raised his head and glanced at the metal clock on the desk, recalling the lifelike metal owl.

"Unless, magic can participate in the entire assembly process..."

Makarov looked at the densely written draft paper next to him, took a light breath, the tightly knit brows gradually relaxed, and shook his head with a wry smile, slowly putting down the pen in his hand.

Since it involved magic and the participation of wizards, he couldn't just sit here and ponder.

According to Miss Theresa Apocalypse, a batch of carefully selected and invited special talents from the magical world would arrive at the Nikolaev Shipyard no later than tomorrow morning to discuss the follow-up work with him.

With the remaining time, he might as well eat and drink his fill, and get some rest… He could foresee that he might have to spend the upcoming Christmas interacting with those dangerous and unfamiliar wizards.

Thinking of this, Makarov stood up and stretched his arms and shoulders, walked to the glass coffee table in the corner of the office, and looked with some curiosity at the plate covered with a food dome – this was the meal standard promised by the wizards in the supplementary agreement for the workers of the Nikolaev Shipyard.

In fact, this was also a condition that ultimately broke Makarov's psychological defense.

Since entering this autumn, the entire Soviet Union had faced an extremely severe food crisis: large-scale crop failures, inability to expand imports, coupled with private farms refusing to hand over grain to the state, the entire alliance had long been on the verge of famine.

And the news of the dissolution of the Soviet Union tore off the last fig leaf, and the bread reserves in the markets of the various republics, which had fallen into a completely free trade and free-price system, were almost completely sold out overnight.

Bakeries were either closed and locked, or the shelves were frighteningly empty… The employees of the Nikolaev Shipyard, who had not been paid for a month or two, had naturally mostly returned to their homes, either trying to find other ways out, or returning to the countryside to acquire and find farmers who were still selling grain and cereals.

Makarov didn't have too high expectations for the "generosity" promised by the magical world.

"Hopefully, it won't all be black bread with wood shavings… As long as there is a free supply of rye bread, mashed potatoes, and simple smoked meat, it will be enough to keep those guys in the factory. Of course, it would be even better if there was vodka..."

"Huh? This, this is?!"