High above New Eridu, in a salon nested within the crystalline shell of a towering spire, Kaori stood before a gilded mirror that shimmered with reflections of the city's restless neon.
As stylists darted around her, fingers skillfully navigating through strands of obsidian hair now subtly laced with silver, her emerald eyes followed her reflection with silent scrutiny, shimmering under the gentle, carefully controlled light.
The steady beat of scissors pierced the background noise; clinically graceful brushes swept her hair into a graceful cascade that framed the outline of her feline ears.
Her twin tails, typically playful and wild, had been sculpted into fluid waves that added a dignified poise to her appearance.
Technicians in immaculate white uniforms sailed by, their data-pads glowing with fashion algorithms and chromatic theory.
The scent of jasmine clung to the air like a whisper, curling around manicurists and makeup artists who hovered nearby with palettes of radiant powders and color polishes, ready to complete her metamorphosis.
This is a lot, Kaori thought, her tail twitching uneasily.
Across the room, Michael leaned casually against a gleaming counter, his flamboyant suit a sharp contrast to the sterile perfection of the space.
He spoke in low tones into his phone, the face of his ornate watch catching the light like a signal.
"Everything's in motion," he murmured. "I'll follow up soon." All pieces set.
He ended the call with a simple gesture, pocketed the device, and approached her, footsteps silent upon the marble floor.
"You look perfect," he said, his voice warm, calculated, his eyes appraising her reflection. She's ready.
Kaori's ears flicked at his words, her gaze locking with his in the mirror. A subtle current of apprehension stirred behind her calm façade.
"I'm... overwhelmed," she admitted, her voice nearly lost beneath the soft bustle of the salon.
"What if I mess this up?"
Michael stepped behind her, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders—grounding her.
"It's natural," he said gently, his tone steady as the city's distant pulse.
"This is monumental—possibly the most important moment of your life. But you're ready."
She's the axis now, he thought, leaning close.
"Trust your numbers, Kaori. And above all, believe in me that believes in you "
Her eyes widened, startled by the rare vulnerability in his voice.
A small, involuntary laugh escaped her lips, tension lifting from her frame, her tail stilling.
He's right. I can do this.
"Okay," she whispered, a flicker of steel igniting behind her voice.
Michael stepped back with a faint smile.
"Let them finish," he said, nodding at the stylists who resumed their work with focused urgency.
"Choose whatever outfit calls to you. Cost isn't your concern—I'll cover it. I'll be outside."
With that, he slipped out, the glass door sighing shut behind him, leaving Kaori amidst silks, tailored layers, and glimmering accessories laid out like relics of a future yet to arrive.
———
Outside, Michael stood before a floor-to-ceiling window, the city unraveling below in a mosaic of motion—hovercraft threading between neon towers, the glow of commerce and chaos in perpetual flux.
The setting sun smeared the sky in molten streaks, its light glancing off the sealed case in his car—inside, the Ether accelerator thrummed softly.
Everything is aligning, he thought, thumbing through a cascade of Inter-Knot notifications on his phone.
He no longer needed to be in the spotlight.
Kaori's rising precision, charisma, and presence were more than enough to draw the attention Project Dawn required.
She's the stage light. I'm the rigging.
Operating in the shadows suited him.
The project's delicate ties to ZZZ, as well as its narrative complexities, necessitated an unseen guiding hand; one mistake could lead to public ruin.
But with Kaori fronting it, he had a cover—and power.
Victor Laurent had handed them an opportunity.
Michael would hold the corporate reigns, but Kaori would be the beacon the elites rallied around.
A throne for her. Stairs for me.
He would build her the perfect arena—flawless, luminous—then vanish beneath it, directing from the quiet beneath the stage.
***
At the heart of New Eridu's financial nexus, Laurent Enterprises loomed like a monument to ambition.
Its glass-and-steel architecture sliced the sky, its facade alive with market data and Ether-tech schematics in constant flux.
Inside its topmost sanctum, a grand boardroom swathed in obsidian and chrome, Victor Laurent stood at the helm of a crescent table.
Behind him, the city's skyline glittered through the glass like a constellation caught mid-dream.
Around the table, the company's directors sat like statues—suits impeccable, augmented visors flickering with economic projections.
They were a chorus of guarded hope and buried skepticism.
Victor adjusted his glasses, their lenses catching fractured light from the chandelier overhead.
His voice broke the room's expectant stillness.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, calm but resolute, "Laurent Enterprises stands at a critical threshold. Our legacy, once defined by innovation, now teeters—not from lack of vision, but from hesitation."
He let that linger before continuing.
"Today, I offer a path forward. I've entrusted our future to two individuals whose ambition and intellect will restore this company's place at the pinnacle."
He gestured toward the sealed doors, which opened with a muted hiss.
Michael entered first, crimson and black tailored like a blade, every step precise.
Kaori followed, draped in a pristine white coat of scientific austerity.
Her hair flowed like liquid silver and ink, framing her feline features, while her twin tails curled in graceful arcs behind her.
Michael paused in the center, his presence commanding, his gaze sweeping over the silent assembly.
"Michael," he said with a slight bow. "And allow me to introduce Kaori—the mind and voice of Project Dawn."
Kaori inclined her head, composed, though her pulse pounded in her throat. Data pads glowed as directors cross-referenced, hunted for flaws.
Victor raised a hand.
"Project Dawn," he declared, voice charged with conviction, "will be led by these two. They are the vanguard of our resurgence."
Michael stepped forward, his voice smooth and magnetic.
"It's an honor," he said. "Laurent Enterprises isn't on the brink of collapse—it stands at the edge of transformation. Project Dawn will redefine energy, industry, and our place in New Eridu."
He spoke of Ether as revolution, not resource—of untapped power and markets reclaimed.
The directors leaned in, skepticism flickering into fascination as Laurent's stock ticked upward on their displays.
Beside him, Kaori stood tall, her nerves folding into a quiet flame of pride.
Applause erupted—tentative at first, then swelling. Yet, as the noise ebbed, a director leaned forward.
"Inspiring words, Michael. But what is Project Dawn?"
Michael's pause was slight, then he turned with purpose to Kaori.
"She'll explain."
Kaori stepped forward, voice crisp and assured.
"Project Dawn aims to unlock Ether's raw potential—not as a supplement, but as a singular, sustainable force. A new energy standard."
Another director raised a brow. "And do you have something to show? Or is this still theory?"
Michael's jaw tightened. "We're deep in development. What we unveil will exceed expectation."
A third director scoffed. "We need more than future promises. Laurent is bleeding now."
Murmurs surged. Doubt returned like a tide.
Victor's knuckles whitened on the table's edge.
"I stand by them. Their execution will prove my faith."
The murmurs grew louder.
Then Michael's voice cut through the room.
"Yes, you doubt us. And why wouldn't you? I have no accolades. Kaori has no boardroom trophies. But tell me—have you stopped this collapse?"
He stepped forward, red tie blazing under fractured light.
"You speak of risk. But you're already dying from inaction."
His voice climbed, slicing their old certainties apart.
"We're rebuilding what you let rot. Project Dawn is real. And I ask only this—trust her. Trust Kaori."
Kaori met his gaze.
Her hands steadied.
Her voice, when it returned, would carry certainty.
And for a moment, the boardroom tilted toward belief.
Michael exited the boardroom in silence, obsidian doors sealing the echo of debate behind him.
He moved down a corridor laced with light, city vistas unfolding beside him. His phone vibrated.
"Yes?" he answered, voice low.
"Your purchase is en route," came the reply.
He hung up.
The board's approval was irrelevant; he only needed to ensure that Kaori was able to succeed in her role.
Michael opened his phone, navigating to his latest Inter-Knot post—a cryptic teaser.
The views had exploded, thousands of likes and reposts flooding the feed, sparking speculation across New Eridu's digital underbelly.
She's seen it by now.
He was certain "she" had deciphered his coded message, a lure to draw her into his orbit.
Now only final piece, the proxies remained.
Fairy had yet to align with Phaethon. They were pliable—ideal.
Then came the Exaltists. The final layer of assurance.
He gazed down at the city—its lights, its ambition, its fragility.
One last call.
He tapped the number. The line hummed.
"Hello," he said, his voice a thread of steel, the loom of his design ready to weave the next move.