Ethan sat alone in the workshop, staring at the flickering digits on the system's interface. The countdown continued to tick mercilessly downward, each second another weight pressed against his chest.
>\[Side Quest: Identify Potential Candidate.]
>Time Remaining: 23 Hours, 59 Minutes.]
Two candidates had come and gone. Marcus with his firebrand enthusiasm. Sofia with her icy precision. Both impressive in their own ways, both closer to loyalty than strangers—but neither had crossed that invisible line the system demanded.
Now only one name remained on the list. Devon Hale.
The failed founder. The man whispered about in backrooms and industry forums. The kind of cautionary tale that haunted ambitious dreamers: genius undone by hubris, a bright spark smothered in its own smoke.
Ethan rubbed his temples, exhaustion grinding through his skull. Every interaction with the candidates had left scars. Marcus reminded him of everything hopeful and naïve about invention. Sofia had shown him how easily brilliance collapsed without structure. And now… Devon promised a mirror. A version of himself that had tried, failed, and burned out.
The system seemed intent on cornering him.
A knock rattled the door, sharp and impatient. Not Marcus's eager tap, nor Sofia's precise rhythm. This one was harder, edged with irritation, like a man who had already decided his time was too valuable for pleasantries.
Ethan rose, nerves twisted tight in his gut, and opened the door.
Devon Hale leaned against the frame. His once-pristine suit was wrinkled, his tie loose around his neck. He was in his mid-thirties, hair slightly unkempt, a shadow of stubble tracing his jaw. His eyes—sharp, pale gray—cut into Ethan with a mix of curiosity and contempt.
"So," Devon said, his voice low and rough, carrying the faint rasp of too many sleepless nights. "You're the boy wonder I've been hearing about."
Ethan resisted the urge to bristle. "I wouldn't call myself that."
"Don't be modest," Devon said, brushing past him into the workshop without waiting for an invitation. He surveyed the room with a practiced glance, the way a man scans a battlefield for weaknesses. "Prototypes. Wires. Chaos. Looks familiar."
Ethan closed the door, unease prickling at his skin. "Familiar how?"
"Familiar like déjà vu." Devon turned, his lips curling into a bitter half-smile. "My first lab looked like this. A dreamer's nest. Full of ambition, short on order. The kind of place where you believe the future will bend just because you want it to."
Ethan's throat tightened. He remembered Sofia's cold analysis, her disdain for chaos. Devon echoed it, but with the venom of experience.
"Why did you come?" Ethan asked, more blunt than he intended.
Devon tilted his head, studying him. "Curiosity. Desperation. Take your pick. Everyone's buzzing about your toys. Healing machines, miracle batteries, materials that break the rules. I wanted to see if you're the real deal, or just another flash in the pan."
Ethan clenched his fists. "And? What do you see?"
"Too early to tell." Devon stepped closer, his gaze sharp. "But I'll give you this—you're better than I was at your age. I had fire but no fuel. You've got something else guiding you, don't you?"
Ethan stiffened, the system's presence suddenly feeling like a secret spotlight overhead. "What makes you say that?"
"Because no one pulls off what you've done without help." Devon's voice softened, almost pitying. "Luck, patronage, or something more. Doesn't matter which. What matters is whether you know the cost."
The system pulsed in Ethan's vision.
> \[Candidate Scan: Devon Hale – Potential Alignment: 61%. Loyalty: Unverified.]
Lower than Marcus or Sofia. But there was something unsettling in the number—it felt unstable, capable of rising sharply or collapsing into nothing.
Ethan steadied himself. "You've been in my position. You've built something before. And you lost it."
Devon's jaw tightened, the faintest shadow crossing his face. "I didn't lose it. It was taken."
Ethan waited, but Devon didn't elaborate. Instead, he walked to the prototype table, his fingers brushing the casing of the healing device.
"This thing," Devon muttered. "Miraculous. Dangerous. Do you even understand what it means? Do you understand what happens when you give the world something it's not ready for?"
Ethan swallowed. "That's why I need people I can trust. To help me manage it."
Devon chuckled darkly, turning to face him. "Trust? You think trust keeps an empire standing? No, Cole. Fear does. Control does. Contracts, leverage, knowing exactly where the knife is and making sure it points away from you."
Ethan shook his head. "That's not how I want to build Tomorrow Works."
"Then you'll lose it," Devon snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. "Just like I did."
The words hit harder than Ethan expected. He imagined himself years from now, hollow-eyed and bitter, warning another dreamer about inevitabilities.
But he wasn't Devon. He couldn't be.
He forced his voice steady. "I didn't bring you here for cynicism. I brought you because I need people who know what failure looks like—and how to avoid it."
Devon studied him for a long moment. His smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, heavier. "You really believe that, don't you?"
"Yes," Ethan said firmly. "I believe failure isn't the end. Not if you learn from it. Not if you build differently."
The system chimed again.
>\[Candidate Compatibility: 67%. Loyalty: Pending.]
The number was rising. Slowly.
Devon sank into a chair, exhaling heavily. For the first time, he looked tired rather than combative. "My company collapsed because I trusted the wrong people. Investors who smiled to my face while carving me up in backrooms. Partners who took the patents and ran. I gave everything to that dream, and when it burned, so did I."
Ethan felt the weight of his words. The anger wasn't just bitterness—it was grief.
"What do you want now?" Ethan asked softly.
Devon's eyes flickered. "I want to matter again. I want to prove I wasn't just another failure. But most of all…" He trailed off, his fists tightening. "…I want to make sure no one else can do to me what they did."
Silence stretched between them. Ethan's mind spun. Marcus had given him hope. Sofia had given him discipline. And Devon—Devon was giving him warning. A glimpse of what lay ahead if he faltered.
The system pulsed brighter.
>[Candidate Compatibility: 72%. Loyalty: Pending.]
Closer. Still not enough.
Ethan leaned forward. "If you join me, Devon, you'll get another chance. But I'm not building an empire of fear. I'm building something different. If you can't accept that, then walk away now."
Devon's lips twisted into something caught between a sneer and a smile. "You're either a fool or a revolutionary, Cole. Maybe both. But…" He stood, adjusting his wrinkled jacket. "…maybe that's what it takes."
He moved to the door, pausing just before leaving. "I'm not saying yes. Not yet. But I'll watch. I'll see if you can survive the knives that are already pointed at you. If you can, then maybe you're worth betting on."
The door closed behind him, leaving Ethan alone in the hum of the workshop.
The system's interface shimmered with its cold blue glow.
> [Candidate Compatibility: 74%. Loyalty: Pending.]
Not enough. None of them were enough. Marcus, Sofia, Devon—all circling closer, all resisting the final step.
Ethan pressed his palms against the table, breath shaking. The deadline ticked lower, each second a knife against his ribs. If he failed this quest, what would the system take from him?
He didn't know. And that terrified him more than any rival or betrayal.
---
The night stretched on. Ethan paced the workshop, prototypes blinking faintly in the dark. He thought of Marcus's eager grin, Sofia's dissecting stare, Devon's haunted smirk. Three pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit.
Maybe that was the point. Maybe the system wanted him to realize that loyalty couldn't be forced in a single meeting. It had to be earned. It had to be proven.
But how much time did he have left to prove it?
The clock ticked mercilessly. Twenty-one hours. Twenty. Nineteen.
Ethan sat down heavily, head in his hands, the glow of the system reflecting in his tired eyes.
Tomorrow Works was no longer just a dream. It was a storm forming on the horizon. And unless he could forge loyalty before it broke, the storm would swallow him whole.