Natali Lonskaïa
Once the seatbelts were unfastened, President Atlas leaned forward, clasping his hands as he fixed Jérémy with a particular intensity.
"My boy, I've wanted to meet you for a long time," he said, his voice steady yet heavy with implication.
Still pale, Jérémy forced a weak smile.
"I hope you won't judge me based on this first impression," he replied with a hint of humor, despite his obvious nerves.
Atlas allowed himself a small grin, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Far from it. With everything I've heard about you — and after reading several reports — I wasn't expecting someone… ordinary."
Jérémy scratched the back of his head with a falsely modest air.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I don't exactly want to stand out."
Atlas's expression hardened slightly.
"Alright, let's get straight to the point. Your technology, in exchange for our support."
He stared directly into Jérémy's eyes, waiting.
Jérémy didn't flinch.
"I already discussed this with Madame Lonskaïa. I'm willing to offer some of my technologies, but under certain conditions."
Atlas frowned lightly.
"No weapons. I read her report about your negotiations, yes… but do you really believe that's feasible?"
Jérémy sat up straighter and inhaled deeply.
"I know the capabilities of the Celestial Rings, but that's not their purpose. I will do everything in my power to prevent them from becoming weapons."
The President raised an eyebrow, his tone turning sharper.
"And how do you plan to do that?"
Jérémy paused, choosing his words carefully.
"If we start creating weapons, it will only trigger an escalation — one that always ends the same way. This technology is meant to offer humanity a new future, not destroy it. If we are destined to kill one another, then what's the point of seeking peace?"
Atlas turned his gaze toward the window, contemplating the clouds for a moment before speaking again.
When he returned his attention to Jérémy, his voice carried a calm, almost melancholic wisdom.
"You know, Jérémy… humanity has always been caught in this spiral.
Technological progress is often born of war, of fear of the other.
The bow and arrow, gunpowder, the nuclear bomb…
And at every turning point, we've seen the cost of violence."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
Then he continued, more softly:
"The utopia you speak of — where your technology provides a future without conflict — I understand it. And truth be told… I desire it as well.
But humanity is more complex than that.
Conflict is not inevitable, but it is recurring.
Those who reject it must be the strongest — not through weaponry, but through willpower."
Jérémy frowned, sensing the philosophical angle of the conversation.
"You mean violence is unavoidable?"
Atlas shook his head.
"Not unavoidable — but persistent.
If you want to keep your work from being twisted into something destructive, you'll have to fight another battle…
The battle of ideas."
He continued, voice slow and resolute:
"The real enemy isn't the one seeking power…
It's the fear that pushes them to use it.
If you want to protect your creation, you must offer the world an alternative to that fear.
If you don't… someone else will seize it."
Jérémy nodded gravely.
"I understand. And I'll do everything I can to ensure this technology remains a symbol of hope."
Atlas returned the nod.
"I'm counting on you.
But remember this: one day, you will face an impossible choice.
When that day comes… act with conscience — and be ready to bear the weight of it."
The words hit Jérémy like a blow.
He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the gravity of the moment.
Vivian, silent at my side, observed everything with sharp attention.
Then Atlas's tone softened.
"Now, beyond politics… there's something else I want to talk to you about."
Jérémy opened his eyes again, puzzled.
"What is it?"
Atlas gave him an enigmatic smile.
"One night, during a reception, someone came to speak to me about you. About your future."
Jérémy froze.
"I… I don't understand. Who are you talking about?"
Atlas paused, savoring the moment.
Then, calmly:
"She is magnificent, isn't she?"
Jérémy frowned, caught off guard.
"Sorry?"
Atlas crossed his arms, letting silence stretch just enough.
"Séléné. She calls you her little Archangel, doesn't she? It's touching, don't you think?"
The shock was immediate on Jérémy's face.
"How… how do you know her?" he stammered, visibly shaken.
As for me, I kept my expression neutral, but inside, a storm of questions erupted.
I had always been at the President's side.
So how could both of them know this woman — this Séléné — without me ever hearing her name?
Atlas shrugged with serene confidence.
"The same way you know her. You think you're the only one who hears her voice?"
Jérémy shook his head slowly, bewildered.
"I've only met two people outside of her…" he whispered, lost in thought.
The President looked at him with genuine warmth.
"You're not as alone as you think. Continue your path.
You have my support — as far as my means allow it."
He stood and extended his hand.
Surprised but touched, Jérémy shook it and even pulled him into a brief, heartfelt embrace.
Vivian reacted instantly.
In a subtle movement almost too fast to notice, her hand brushed against the hidden knife under her sleeve.
She read the situation in a fraction of a second — ready to strike if needed.
She had already begun to draw the blade when she sensed the President's calm and benevolent intent.
He lifted one hand slightly — a silent, absolute order.
Vivian froze immediately, slipping the knife back into place before Jérémy noticed anything.
Jérémy pulled away from the embrace, oblivious to how close Vivian had been to acting.
All he saw was her usual composed smile.
The President returned to his seat, unbothered — almost as if he had anticipated and neutralized the danger long before it could unfold.
"We still have much to discuss," Atlas resumed, breaking the brief silence as the aircraft continued toward its destination.
Vivian and I withdrew to the staff section of the plane to prepare refreshments for the President and Jérémy.
It was also the perfect moment to exchange private thoughts about what had just transpired — a scene raising far more questions than answers.
As I prepared tea at the mini-bar, Vivian stepped closer, her presence unmistakable.
She gently placed a hand on my back — a familiar gesture signaling she wanted a confidential conversation.
While I set out the cups and tea bags, she whispered in my ear, cautious:
"What was that conversation? Do you know something I don't?"
I shook my head while pouring hot water into the cups.
"No. Absolutely nothing. The President has never mentioned this 'Séléné' to me."
Vivian let out a short, sarcastic laugh, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease.
"I see your years behind a desk haven't dulled your reflexes, Nana," she said, teasing me about how quickly I had reacted earlier.
I shot her a sideways glance as I prepared the drinks.
"And you didn't waste time acting either," I replied with a hint of amusement — but also reproach.
"You nearly killed the President's guest, you know."
Vivian smirked unapologetically.
"I'm here to protect, right? I'd rather act than regret."
I sighed.
I understood her.
But we both knew this situation was more complicated than it appeared.
The question remained — who was Séléné?
And what role would she play in the events to come?
Was she a code name… or linked to the Goddess of the Moon?
The Moon…
The thought lingered in my mind like a quiet echo.
I would need to investigate.
And perhaps speak privately with the President — whether he wished it or not.