The sun filtered weakly through the blinds, spilling pale stripes across the workshop floor. Ethan had barely slept. His mind spun with system prompts, Marcus's enthusiasm, and the gnawing pressure of the ticking countdown.
> \[Side Quest: Identify Potential Candidate.]
> Time Remaining: 47 Hours, 13 Minutes.]
The numbers felt like a rope tightening around his neck.
Sofia Brandt was due any minute. He glanced around the workshop, suddenly aware of how chaotic it looked. Wires coiled like snakes across the floor, stacks of circuit boards leaned precariously on the shelves, and the half-finished prototype pulsed faintly with an almost mocking glow.
He considered tidying, then gave up. Better she see the mess. If she couldn't handle clutter, she'd never survive Tomorrow Works.
A knock sounded. Three sharp raps. Not tentative like Marcus's. Firm. Precise.
Ethan opened the door to find a woman in her late twenties, dressed in crisp slacks and a blazer that looked too professional for the peeling paint of his building. Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, her posture straight, her gaze cool.
"Sofia Brandt," she said, offering a handshake that was neither limp nor crushing. Just efficient.
"Ethan Cole," he replied, trying not to sound nervous. "Thanks for coming."
She stepped inside, her eyes flicking across the room with the speed of a scanner. In less than a minute, she seemed to catalog every detail—the scattered parts, the glowing device, the lack of structure.
"This is your workspace?" she asked, not unkindly, but with a hint of skepticism.
"For now," Ethan admitted. "It's temporary."
Her lips pressed together, unreadable. "Temporary is acceptable. Chaos is not."
Ethan's stomach tightened. This was going to be different from Marcus.
---
They sat at the table, the prototype humming softly between them. Ethan explained the basics—Tomorrow Works, the vision, the need for structure.
Sofia listened without interruption, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Only when he finished did she speak.
"You have vision. That much is clear. But vision without structure collapses. You can invent the future, Mr. Cole, but unless you can move materials, manage production, and balance supply with demand, you will drown in your own brilliance."
Her tone was firm, not insulting—like a teacher correcting a student.
Ethan resisted the urge to bristle. "I know. That's why I need help."
"Help is one word for it." She leaned forward slightly. "What you need is discipline. Logistics is the skeleton of any company. Without it, all you have is dreams."
The system chimed in his vision.
> [Candidate Scan: Sofia Brandt – Potential Alignment: 68%. Loyalty: Unverified.]
Higher than Marcus. His pulse quickened.
He studied her carefully. "Why are you here? You've got the résumé for corporate jobs. Why risk everything on someone like me?"
For the first time, something flickered in her eyes. Not warmth, exactly—more like a shadow.
"I worked for a shipping conglomerate," she said, her voice clipped. "Three years of optimizing routes, saving them millions. Do you know what I got?"
Ethan shook his head.
"A pink slip. Outsourced to an algorithm. My entire department replaced overnight." Her jaw tightened. "I'm done being a cog in someone else's machine. If I'm going to build, it will be something no one can throw away."
Her words rang sharp, and Ethan felt a pang of recognition. She wanted permanence. She wanted to matter.
The system pulsed again.
>[Compatibility Rising: 72%. Loyalty: Pending.]
Still not enough.
---
Ethan stood, moving to the prototype. "I want to show you something."
He activated the glow, pricked his finger, and placed it beneath the device. Just as before, the wound closed in seconds.
Sofia's eyes widened, but only briefly. Then her analytical gaze returned, scanning the machine's structure. "Impressive. But flawed. Your casing won't survive transport. The components aren't modular. Maintenance will be a nightmare."
Ethan blinked. "You sound more impressed with its weaknesses than its strengths."
"I'm not here to be impressed," she said flatly. "I'm here to see if you're worth my time."
The words should have stung, but instead Ethan found himself… almost grateful. Everyone else had looked at the prototype with awe, with disbelief. Sofia looked at it with cold practicality. She wasn't dazzled. She was dissecting.
That was the kind of person who kept dreams alive.
The system whispered again:
> [Candidate Compatibility: 76%. Loyalty: Pending.]
Ethan's chest tightened. She was close. Closer than Marcus.
But loyalty was still missing.
---
They spoke for another hour—about supply chains, about distribution, about the harsh realities of scaling an idea. Sofia never once smiled, never once softened. But she asked the right questions, the kind of questions Ethan hadn't dared to think about.
When she finally stood to leave, she adjusted her blazer, her expression unreadable. "You have potential. I'll consider it."
"Consider it?" Ethan asked, frustration bleeding into his voice.
Sofia met his eyes evenly. "Trust is not given, Mr. Cole. It's earned. If you want me on your side, prove to me that you can hold your ground when the walls close in."
And then she was gone, her sharp footsteps echoing down the hall.
---
The workshop was silent again. Ethan slumped into his chair, running a hand over his face.
The system displayed her updated stats:
> \[Candidate Compatibility: 78%. Loyalty: Pending.]
Closer still. But still not there.
He exhaled slowly, staring at the glowing numbers. Marcus had given him energy. Sofia had given him structure. But neither had given him loyalty.
And without loyalty, Tomorrow Works was still a house of cards.
He rubbed his temples, exhaustion weighing on him. Two prospects down. One to go.
Devon Hale.
The bankrupt founder. The man who had already failed once.
Ethan didn't know if that made him the riskiest choice—or the most valuable one.