Jason didn't respond to the message immediately.
Not because he was busy.
Because he was listening.
The office was quiet—too quiet. Night staff had already cleared out. The city beyond the glass was alive, but in here, everything felt suspended.
He leaned back in his chair, hands folded, eyes unfocused.
Heard something today. Might matter.
He didn't like messages like that.
They implied proximity without clarity. They suggested risk without definition. They were designed to pull attention.
Jason preferred traction.
He finally typed:
Tell me.
The reply came faster than he expected.
Someone is consolidating.
Jason's fingers paused.
Where?
Logistics. Secondary suppliers. Quiet spaces.
Jason exhaled slowly.
That matched what he'd already seen.
He typed again.
Name?
There was a longer delay this time.
Then:
Not yet. But it isn't random.
Jason closed his eyes for a second.
So it had begun.
Not a confrontation.
Not an attack.
A reconfiguration.
Someone wasn't trying to beat him.
They were trying to change the terrain.
That was smarter.
He stood, walked to the window, and stared at the city.
This wasn't panic territory.
This was chess territory.
Jason picked up his phone and opened the internal software app.
Not to scan.
Not to predict.
To log.
He had been using it wrong.
Not as a weapon.
But as a map.
He input the supplier shifts. The timeline. The deviation vectors.
The system didn't respond immediately.
Then:
Pattern anomaly detected.
This is not a hostile disruption.
This is a network influence insertion.
Jason's eyes sharpened.
Origin?
Unknown.
Objective?
Long-term positional leverage.
Jason smiled faintly.
That told him more than a name would have.
This wasn't a predator.
It was a planner.
Which meant patience.
Which meant intent.
Which meant… he would be able to trace it.
He tapped once more.
Show me likely intersection points.
The system processed.
Then displayed three zones.
One of them was not business.
It was social.
Jason stared at it.
Then quietly said, "Interesting."
—
Lucious was already moving.
He stood on the top floor of a private residence he didn't own, looking out over the city. The owner was a friend of a friend of a friend—someone who liked being near power without touching it.
Lucious had not come for the view.
He'd come for the silence.
He placed his phone on the railing.
Two messages awaited.
One from a logistics partner.
One from an information node.
Both confirmed what he'd expected.
The system buzzed.
Sequence integrity holding.
Minor friction detected: Jason Yun.
Lucious dismissed it.
Not because he didn't care.
Because he didn't need confirmation.
He already knew.
Jason Yun was observant.
Which meant this would not stay invisible.
Good.
Lucious didn't want invisible.
He wanted inevitable.
He tapped out one message.
Begin stage two.
Then another.
No acceleration. Let it look organic.
He didn't want panic.
He wanted normalization.
He wanted the board to accept his presence before anyone realized it mattered.
He turned his attention to the third message.
From a private contact.
Ashley Han is being referenced.
Lucious' jaw tightened.
Not emotionally.
Strategically.
So it had started.
He didn't like that.
Not because he cared.
But because people who pulled her into games they didn't understand often underestimated how unpredictable she could be.
And unpredictable variables broke systems.
He typed:
By who?
The response came slower.
Not one person.
Lucious closed his eyes briefly.
That was worse.
When systems noticed you, it meant you'd reached scale.
He sent a single message:
Keep her clean.
No elaboration.
None needed.
—
Ashley didn't go home.
She drove.
Not randomly—just… without destination.
That always helped her think.
Her phone sat on the passenger seat.
Face down.
She didn't want to look at it.
Which told her she should.
She flipped it.
Another message from the unknown number.
You should be careful who you speak to.
Ashley laughed.
Out loud.
"Too late," she muttered.
She typed:
That's vague.
It's meant to be.
She hated that.
She typed:
Are you threatening me?
There was a pause.
Then:
No. I'm warning you.
Ashley rolled her eyes.
About what?
Another pause.
Longer.
About becoming valuable.
Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.
She pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine.
She stared at the windshield.
Then typed:
That already happened.
The reply came almost immediately.
Exactly.
Ashley leaned back.
This wasn't intimidation.
It was… classification.
She hated being classified.
She opened her contacts.
Scrolled.
Stopped on a name.
She didn't press it.
Yet.
—
Malcolm Veyra threw a glass.
It shattered against the wall of his office, shards raining down across polished marble.
"Find him," he snarled.
His assistant stood frozen.
"We're trying, sir. But—"
"But what?"
"Every lead collapses into shell structures. Proxy layers. The further we dig, the more abstract it becomes."
Malcolm turned slowly.
"You're telling me a ghost took my market?"
"No, sir. I'm telling you they made themselves untraceable."
Malcolm's mouth twitched.
"Then stop tracing."
The assistant blinked.
"Start baiting."
She swallowed.
"With what?"
Malcolm smiled.
"With pressure."
—
Jason Yun sat at his desk, reviewing the software's latest outputs.
He wasn't worried.
But he was interested.
Something new had entered his world.
And it hadn't asked permission.
He liked that.
He typed one last command:
Begin passive tracking. No alerts. No escalation.
The system complied.
Jason leaned back.
Somewhere in the city, someone was moving pieces.
And for the first time in a while—
Jason wasn't the only one.