Morning Arrival
Jonathan entered Rainescorp's lobby with deliberate calm. The marble floors gleamed, reflecting the cold light of the atrium. He adjusted his gray suit jacket—the inverted style of his past life—and walked toward the elevators.
Floor 17. Risk Division.
The doors opened. Lena was waiting near his desk, arms crossed, tablet in hand.
"Jonathan," she said.
He smiled. "Morning."
Her gaze was sharp. "We need to talk. Privately."
Jonathan tilted his head. "Am I in trouble?"
"Not yet," she said. "Come with me."
The Confrontation Room
She led him down a narrow hallway, past the archives, to a small conference room. The walls were bare. A single table sat in the center, flanked by two chairs.
Jonathan entered calmly. Lena closed the door behind them.
She sat opposite him, tablet resting on the table.
"You're hiding something," she said.
Jonathan leaned back. "That's a strong accusation."
Her eyes narrowed. "You pretend to struggle with the basics. Tagging, routing, compliance. But when it comes to legacy overrides, you're flawless. Too flawless."
Jonathan smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm just better with puzzles."
She shook her head. "No one is that inconsistent. You're pretending."
Jonathan tapped his thumb against his index finger—soft, rhythmic, unconscious.
Lena noticed. "That tic. You do it when you're thinking."
Jonathan shrugged. "Everyone has habits."
She leaned forward. "You remind me of someone."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Who?"
She hesitated. "The founder. Jonathan Raines."
Jonathan chuckled. "That's quite a comparison. He died six years ago."
Her gaze sharpened. "And yet the system addressed you by name yesterday. 'Welcome, Jonathan Raines.'"
Jonathan tilted his head. "Glitch?"
She shook her head. "Coincidence doesn't explain precision."
Jonathan smiled. "Maybe the system likes me."
Lena didn't laugh.
Humor and Ritual
Jonathan leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You know, suspicion is like risk tagging. If you mislabel it, you waste resources chasing ghosts."
Lena frowned. "You're deflecting."
He smiled. "Deflection is an art. Like compliance routing. You send suspicion through the wrong buffer, and suddenly it's harmless."
She stared at him. "You're mocking me."
Jonathan shook his head. "Not mocking. Ritualizing. Every system has rituals. Every suspicion has a rhythm. You're testing me. I'm testing you."
Her jaw tightened. "You're impossible to read."
Jonathan leaned back. "That's the point."
Eli's Office
Meanwhile, Eli sat in his office, pen in hand, notebook open.
He had been watching the trainee closely. The name. The posture. The tic.
He wrote:
Trainee: Jonathan RainesTic: Thumb to index finger tappingFather: Same tic during board meetings
He paused.
Could it be coincidence?
He wrote:
Coincidence? Probability low.Resemblance: Facial structure similar.Behavior: Calm, precise, ritualistic.
He leaned back, staring at the notes.
"No," he whispered. "Impossible."
He opened the legacy archive.
Video: Boardroom footage. His father tapping thumb to index finger while discussing override logic.
He paused the video.
Same rhythm. Same hand.
He frowned.
"Could it be…?"
He shook his head. "No. He died. Hospital record confirmed."
He wrote:
Alternative explanation: Trainee studied founder's habits. Mimicry.Comforting conclusion: Imitation, not reincarnation.
He closed the notebook.
Comforted.
Wrong.
Back in the Conference Room
Lena tapped her tablet. "I ran a facial scan. No match. But your bone structure resembles the founder's early career photos."
Jonathan smiled. "I guess I have a legacy face."
She didn't laugh.
"You're hiding something," she repeated.
Jonathan leaned forward. "Maybe I'm hiding inconsistency. Maybe I'm hiding talent. Maybe I'm hiding nothing at all."
Her eyes narrowed. "You're playing games."
Jonathan shrugged. "Games are rituals. Rituals reveal truth. Or conceal it."
She stared at him. "You're impossible."
Jonathan smiled faintly. "That's the point."
Afternoon Session
The confrontation ended without resolution. Lena dismissed him with a curt nod.
Back in Risk Division, Jonathan resumed his tasks. He fumbled with tagging, misrouted compliance, then executed overrides flawlessly.
Lena watched closely, suspicion deepening.
Jonathan smiled faintly, tapping his thumb against his index finger.
The override was spreading.
Evening Reflection
Jonathan returned to his apartment. He cooked slowly—garlic, onion, rice, seared chicken. The scent filled the room.
He sat by the window, watching Rainescorp glow in the twilight.
Lena was suspicious. Eli was unsettled. Voss was wary.
The ritual was working.
Jonathan smiled.
"I'm back."