The aftermath of the gala felt heavy as Mild returned to his hotel room. The sensation of Zen's embrace still lingered—a gesture that felt less like a goodbye and more like a claim. Despite his professional victory, Mild felt a deep need to ground himself in the reality of his life back in Canada.
Mild sat on the edge of the bed and dialed Arm. The call connected instantly, as if Arm had been holding the phone for hours.
"How was the gala?" Arm's voice was low, laced with the rough edge of exhaustion and suppressed anxiety. "Did Zen behave himself?"
Mild hesitated. He thought of the "Project Phoenix" files, the ethical trap with the contract, and that final, affectionate hug. If he told Arm the full truth, the "Ice King" would be on a jet within the hour, and the professional peace Mild had built would go up in flames.
