The sun dipped low over Granada, casting long shadows through the R&D facility. Despite the golden light, the lab remained a controlled world of hums and clicks—engine diagnostics, telemetry readouts, and quiet murmurs of engineers. Lelouch moved deliberately through the room, eyes scanning the Zudah displays while his mind raced through a new layer of calculations: human behavior.
Jason Arkadi remained in the corner, notebook open, pen poised, watching silently. To any observer, he was ordinary, unremarkable. To Lelouch, he was something else entirely—a question, a variable in an equation that refused to balance.
"Jason," Lelouch said without turning, voice calm yet precise, "have you noted any anomalies in the Zudah's acceleration patterns during the last series of tests?"
Jason looked up briefly, nodding. "Yes, sir. Minor stress spikes along the dorsal thruster array. Adjustments to energy distribution could mitigate them."
Lelouch's lips curved slightly, outwardly approving, but his mind was elsewhere. The phrasing, the confidence in stating adjustments without being prompted—it was a subtle display of initiative that, on paper, an ordinary officer like Jason shouldn't have possessed.
Rezen adjusted the simulation parameters again. "Shall we push for maximum velocity, sir?"
"Yes," Lelouch replied, eyes narrowing. "But carefully. Redundancies active. Data collection is paramount."
Jason made notes quietly, his pen barely scratching the paper. He moved with precision, recording not just raw data but implications—how minor changes could affect pilot feedback, how energy fluctuations might cascade into structural stress.
Lelouch observed him keenly. There was a rhythm to Jason's movements, a subtle intelligence in his observations that was not taught in any Zeon academy. Ordinary men followed protocol; Jason anticipated outcomes, weighed variables, and recorded consequences with an almost uncanny foresight.
M'Quve wandered over, eyeing the Zudah and the young officer. "I like his diligence," he murmured to Lelouch, not entirely quietly. "It's rare to see someone so… methodical without being overbearing."
Lelouch's gaze sharpened. "Methodical diligence," he said under his breath, "in an ordinary envelope. Curious."
Jason tilted his head slightly, noting the conversation, but did not react. Lelouch cataloged that reaction, too—the perfect neutrality that concealed more than it revealed.
The hum of the Zudah's engines grew louder as the final acceleration test began. Rezen monitored output, Liam tracked stress feedback, and Jason recorded every spike, every fluctuation, quietly annotating patterns that could influence future combat performance.
As the test concluded, the engines gradually powered down, leaving the hall in a quiet vibration. Engineers wiped sweat from brows, satisfied with results. Jason made one last note before closing his notebook, slipping it back into his coat as though nothing had happened.
Lelouch's violet eyes followed him. Every ordinary gesture—the careful closing of the notebook, the measured breathing, the silence—was now suspicious. Nothing about Jason was as simple as it appeared.
Stepping closer, Lelouch allowed a subtle test. "Jason, why do you note details beyond your assignment?" His voice was calm, almost casual, but carried the weight of command.
Jason looked up, expression neutral. "Sir, anticipating issues before they manifest seems… prudent. It prevents operational failure."
"Prudent," Lelouch repeated, considering the word. His lips curved faintly. "Indeed. But most officers are trained to follow procedure, not to predict outcomes independently. You appear… unusually aware."
Jason's gaze met his, calm, unflinching. "I record only what is observable, sir. The rest is for your judgment."
That measured answer, seemingly innocent, set off another flag in Lelouch's mind. The confidence, the subtle precision—it was knowledge beyond mere observation.
Later, Lelouch withdrew to the observation balcony, overlooking the sprawling R&D floor. Jason continued to work quietly among engineers, every movement understated, disciplined. Lelouch allowed himself a small thought: this man, ordinary in background yet extraordinary in capability, might be a key variable in far larger designs than he realized.
He recalled Jason's earlier question to Liam—the delicate phrasing, the names Lamperouge and vi Britannia, and the instantaneous dismissal in favor of von Zehrtfeld. That single action had been the spark of suspicion.
Lelouch folded his arms, eyes narrowing. He did not yet accuse; he observed. Every interaction, every gesture would now be cataloged. Jason's ordinariness was perfect camouflage, but even camouflage leaves traces.
The next morning, Lelouch arranged for a casual technical review with Jason. "Come with me," he said, leading him to a side lab with isolated consoles. "I want to understand your reasoning behind your notes on the thruster array."
Jason followed without hesitation, calm, composed. "Of course, sir. I'll demonstrate the logic flow I used for prediction and observation."
Lelouch watched, noting every pause, every flicker of thought, every movement of pen and finger. It was a dance of intellect, subtle, precise, but revealing patterns impossible for an ordinary officer.
He leaned closer, speaking quietly, testing the waters. "Your methods… are not standard. How did you develop them?"
Jason's expression did not change. "Observation, practice, deduction. I do not claim them as unusual, sir. Only effective."
Lelouch allowed a faint smile, masking the rapid calculations in his mind. There was more to this man than discipline or training. Knowledge, foresight, and composure—none of it could be taught in Granada's academies or workshops.
Later, during a briefing with M'Quve, Lelouch subtly referenced Jason's behavior. "He is competent, yes. But I find his approach… atypical. Worth monitoring closely."
M'Quve inclined his head, a faint smirk on his face. "Curious, isn't it? A perfectly ordinary man revealing… extraordinary awareness. Keep him in line, or he may surprise you yet."
By evening, Lelouch returned to his quarters, still turning over every detail in his mind. Jason Arkadi's quiet diligence, his precise observations, the knowledge of names from other worlds—it all added up to something impossible.
Lelouch's fingers drummed lightly against the console. "Why do you know… more than you should?" he whispered to himself.
Jason had integrated himself perfectly into ordinary life, yet the subtle signs of knowledge beyond this timeline could not be hidden from Lelouch's sharp perception.
Days passed, and Lelouch continued his observation. Every technical session, every casual conversation, every ordinary act of note-taking was scrutinized. Jason's calm, competent demeanor persisted, never faltering, never hinting at the depth of what he truly knew.
Lelouch's suspicion solidified into a quiet certainty: this man was no ordinary officer. The ordinariness itself was a disguise—a shield for something far more extraordinary.
Finally, after a week of careful monitoring, Lelouch allowed himself a private thought: Jason Arkadi was a variable unlike any other. A puzzle, ordinary in appearance but impossible in nature.
And Lelouch knew he would uncover it, piece by piece, without alarming the man who had already hidden so much.
Even ordinary men, Lelouch realized, could carry impossible truths. Jason Arkadi had just proven that in the most subtle way imaginable.