Saturday, April 27 – Late Evening / Midtown Apartment – Rooftop
The Setup
Tyler clapped his hands like a substitute teacher trying to herd kindergarteners.
"Okay, okay—circle up, clowns. This one's called Most Likely To. You know the drill. We go around and call out random things, and we all point to the person we think fits it best. No explanations. No defences. Only shame."
Jay groaned as he dropped onto a cushion. "This feels like a trap."
Sofia spun around on her beanbag. "Correction. It is a trap."
Emma raised a brow. "Are we seriously trusting Tyler to run anything without supervision?"
"I'll have you know," Tyler said proudly, "I ran a summer camp once."
"That was detention," Miles muttered.
"Details."
Round One – Most Likely To…
Tyler cleared his throat dramatically. "Alright. First one—Most likely to get arrested for something dumb but harmless."
Everyone pointed to Sofia.
She gasped. "How DARE you!"
Yuki said calmly, "You once tried to bribe a lunch lady with coupons."
"They were expired. It was different."
Next up: Most likely to win a dance battle.
Jay pointed to Emma.
Emma pointed to Amaya.
Sofia pointed to herself.
Noah did the worm.
Tyler said, "See? This is wholesome."
Jay muttered, "You just want to watch us turn on each other."
"Exactly!"
Round Two
"Okay, okay," Noah said. "Most likely to get lost on a field trip."
Everyone turned to Tyler.
Tyler shrugged. "Guilty. Once ended up in the wrong bus and made friends with a fourth-grade soccer team. They still text me."
Jay actually laughed. Like—not just a smile. A real, honest laugh that made Sofia freeze mid-sip.
"Wait. He laughs?" she gasped. "He has joy?"
Jay grinned. "Don't get used to it."
Emma blinked at him like she didn't expect it either—but smiled softly.
Silliness Escalates
"Most likely to cry during a rom-com."
Amaya, quietly: "...I did. Once."
Tyler dramatically put a hand to his chest. "Protect her."
"Most likely to accidentally start a cult."
Everyone pointed to Yuki.
She nodded once. "I accept this responsibility."
"Most likely to get banned from a library."
Emma raised a hand. "Only once."
"Why?" Jay asked.
"They didn't let me re-alphabetize the fiction section."
"You're a menace."
Group Energy Peaks
As the questions kept coming, the laughter only got louder.
They made up wild awards— "Most likely to survive a zombie apocalypse" (Miles),"Most likely to start one" (Sofia),"Most likely to secretly be a spy" (Luna)—and every accusation came with giggles and dramatic pointing.
At one point, they tried to play "The Floor Is Lava" and ended up in a tangled pile of limbs and cushions while Noah narrated like it was a wildlife documentary.
"Watch as the Tyler struggles to escape the savage grip of the wild Amaya—oh, and he's down!"
"Stop! Her elbow is in my soul!"
Blanket Pile & Rooftop Stars
Eventually, everyone flopped back onto the blankets, exhausted and full of sugar.
The rooftop was quiet now—music soft, stars overhead, the distant sound of the city like a heartbeat.
"Okay," Sofia said, lying flat with a pillow over her face. "That was the most fun I've had in months."
"I regret nothing," Noah added from where he was half-curled around a bowl of popcorn.
Luna yawned. "I do. But not this."
Yuki said softly, "This was... efficient bonding."
Jay sat at the edge, legs crossed, hands folded.
He looked around—at everyone stretched out across the rooftop like tired kids at a sleepover.
It was messy. Loud. A little ridiculous.
And perfect.
Chapter Close – This Feeling
Tyler, from somewhere under a blanket, mumbled, "Hey... we should do this again next year."
"Next week," Sofia said.
"Tomorrow," Noah added.
Jay didn't speak.
He just watched them all—his friends, his world—and felt something settle in his chest.
Not excitement.
Not even relief.
Just… stillness.
A soft kind of happy.
The kind you don't realize you needed until you finally have it.
The stars above blinked.
The wind shifted.
And somewhere in the distance, someone started snoring.
Somewhere across from Jay's apartment –
The rooftop lights flickered in the distance, laughter still echoing faintly into the night air.
But across the street—on the dark balcony of a high-rise—someone watched.
Binoculars lowered.
A phone lifted.
"He's… calm," the voice murmured, quiet and clipped. "Still surrounded by his friends. No estate personnel in sight. No security tail. Seems completely unguarded."
A pause.
"…Yes. I'll forward the photos."
The line clicked off.
The figure pocketed the phone and turned without a word—disappearing into the shadows.
The marble floors gleamed in the candlelight. Silent servants moved like ghosts.
A butler stepped into the main hall, bowing low.
"…They've confirmed it. Jay Markov is back in the city. No guards. No interference. And—by all appearances—he's playing civilian."
At the head of the long table sat a figure in an obsidian suit. Still. Silent.
Another man sat beside him—elegant, silver-haired, with a smirk far too knowing.
"So, the boy's back," the second man said. "And fresh from the Capital of Virelia no less. That deal he orchestrated with the Virélian delegation—unexpected. Not many could've managed that level of leverage… at his age."
The first man said nothing.
The second continued, swirling a glass of dark wine. "He reminds me of him, you know. The Markov heir before him. The same unpredictability. The same blood in his veins."
The butler cleared his throat.
"With respect… it seems Jay Markov isn't interested in heirship. Not actively, at least. From what we've seen—he's just a boy. A naive child. Smart, yes. But still soft."
At last, the man in the obsidian suit spoke—voice low, measured, final.
"Then we observe. If he stays away from the family's games, that's good for us."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming beneath the dim chandelier.
"…But if he interferes again—like he did in Virelia—he dies."
The second man chuckled. "And Elias? What of the first heir?"
The figure at the head of the table smiled, slow and cold.
"Eliminate him. Quietly. Publicly, if needed. Elias is the real threat."
He stood.
His shadow stretched long across the map on the table—one that spanned regions, flags, and power lines like veins.
"If the boy becomes a problem… he joins his brother."
The laughter that followed echoed through the hall—sharp, clean, and utterly certain.
"The Markovs are waning. Their time is nearly over.
And soon, my family will run this country."