The package for Client 002 was delivered at precisely 03:13 local time. The courier said nothing, made no eye contact, and departed the moment the recipient's gloved hands took possession of the slim silver box.
Inside: a ring. Obsidian inlaid, gold thread around the interior, and an inscription visible only under blacklight. Crafted in secrecy, it bore no mark of a maker. Not even a hidden signature.
System: "Delivery confirmed. Identity still unresolved. Linguistic data flag: pre-modern Turkish."
Alexis leaned back, sipping instant coffee that had gone cold two hours ago.
"Every time I hear 'pre-modern,' I assume mummies are getting into luxury fashion."
System: "Probability of undead clientele is less than 0.0002%."
"Good. That's reassuring."
Elsewhere in the world, three individuals had very different mornings.
Camille Vossa, deep in a breakfast of espresso and existential dread, received a digital flag.
"Audit request?" she murmured, eyes narrowing. "No, no, no. I don't like ghosts playing with my folders."
She typed fast, rerouted the probe, and muttered, "If this is a test, I'm billing extra."
Linh Tran, still in pajamas decorated with screaming sushi rolls, found a mysterious IP bounce-back in her sandbox network.
"Okay, who the hell tried to peek at my firewall without flowers or a dinner date?"
She spun in her chair, humming. "Wasn't local. Not government. Not Axis either. Huh."
Marco Di Volterra was sharpening tools when a soft knock interrupted his classical playlist.
"Signore Volterra, I am a traveler… interested in history."
The man didn't stay long. But he looked around a bit too closely. Asked questions that had nothing to do with gold.
Marco watched him leave and whispered, "When curiosity walks like a diplomat but smells like a spy… best keep the furnace warm."
The encrypted call began later that evening. Their screens lit up in sync, showing the familiar dark sigil pulsing gently.
Camille was the first to speak. "Alright, mystery man. Three of us got touched today. That's not random."
Alexis's voice came through the modulator, calm and clear. "Confirmed. Surveillance traces were minor. Nothing breached."
"You sure?" Linh asked, flipping a pen between her fingers. "Because someone tried to flirt with my firewall and didn't even say hi."
"That sounds serious," Marco said. "Did they at least compliment your code?"
Linh scoffed. "No. Rude and invasive."
"Back on track," Camille cut in, deadpan.
Alexis didn't argue. "This is your notice. The Atelier is no longer isolated. The eyes are growing. You've all performed exceptionally. That's why I'm offering you entry into something beyond."
"What's beyond Atelier?" Camille asked.
"A design," Alexis replied. "Older. Deeper. Strategic. Global."
"Oh," Linh muttered. "You mean the part where we accidentally joined Illuminati Lite?"
"Close," Alexis said. "But less robes, more encrypted spreadsheets."
"Still sounds culty," Marco noted, though he smiled. "But I've already designed for kings and devils. Why not ghosts?"
"You're not obligated," Alexis reminded them. "But should you accept, you'll receive clearance to the next layer of the Axis."
"Axis?" Camille's voice sharpened slightly.
A pause.
"Just a codename," Alexis said smoothly. "Nothing more."
Camille, ever the hawk, didn't push it. But she made a note.
"I'm in," Linh said first, feet on the desk. "I mean, who needs sleep?"
"Same," Marco added. "Though I do require better coffee funding."
"I want terms in writing," Camille said. "But I'm not backing away."
Alexis smiled behind the screen. "You'll receive orientation briefs shortly. Until then, operate normally. Keep Atelier separate."
The call ended.
Later, at University
Iris watched Alexis from the far side of the campus garden. He looked too serene for someone his age. Always punctual. Always present. Yet… no one ever really saw him.
She noted how people greeted him, then forgot he was there. How he smiled politely but never got involved.
And how his eyes lingered a second longer on patterns no one else seemed to notice—like someone who knew where the cracks in the world hid.
She narrowed her eyes.
Something was off.
She jotted a note in her sketchbook. Not a theory. Just a feeling.
"He's not acting. But he's hiding something."
That evening, as Alexis walked out of the lecture hall, hands in pockets, she caught up to him.
"Alexis!"
He paused and turned. Calm expression. Slight tilt of the head.
"Iris," he greeted smoothly.
She hesitated. "Hey, can we talk?"
A long pause.
He smiled gently. "Sure. Walk with me."
And as they walked under the arch of darkening skies, the world seemed to hum around them—one side a curious girl with too many questions, and the other… a king who wore no crown.