The café Elias picked was aggressively normal.
That alone made Asher suspicious.
It sat on a corner with too much glass and not enough personality, the kind of place that charged extra for milk alternatives and played music so quiet it felt judgmental. People came in, ordered, left. No lingering. No drama.
Neutral ground.
Asher arrived five minutes early and chose a table near the window, back to the wall. Old habit. New relevance.
He ordered black coffee. No sugar. No foam. No excuses.
When Elias arrived, he didn't look like anything.
That was the problem.
Mid-thirties, maybe. Clean jacket, no visible gear, posture relaxed in a way that suggested practice. He smiled like someone who had learned how to disarm people without raising his voice.
"Asher," Elias said, setting his cup down across from him. "Thanks for coming."
Asher didn't stand. Didn't offer his hand. "You said no pressure."
"And I meant it," Elias replied easily. "You could've not shown. That would've been data too."
Asher took a slow sip of his coffee. It tasted like regret and responsibility.
"Let's get something straight," he said. "I'm not joining anything."
Elias nodded immediately. "Good. Neither am I."
That earned him a look.
"I'm serious," Elias continued. "I don't recruit. I don't sign people. I don't sell power. I connect dots."
"As a hobby?"
"As a job," Elias said. "Someone has to notice patterns before they become problems."
Asher leaned back slightly. "And I'm a pattern."
Elias smiled, but didn't deny it. "You're an outlier."
There it was. Clean. Clinical.
"I'm an F-rank," Asher said. "Public record. Verified."
"Yes," Elias agreed. "And yet you were present at a transit incident that involved panic, unstable load distribution, and an outcome that didn't match expected civilian capability."
Asher held his gaze. "Adrenaline."
Elias nodded. "Adrenaline explains a lot of things. It doesn't explain consistency."
Asher's jaw tightened. "You tracking me?"
"No," Elias said. "I'm listening."
"To what?"
"To the gaps," Elias replied. "The moments where stories smooth over too neatly. Where witnesses agree without realizing they're agreeing."
Asher felt a familiar itch behind his eyes.
The system stayed quiet.
Good.
"So what do you want?" Asher asked.
Elias folded his hands on the table. "To understand how you think."
Asher snorted. "That's a bad investment."
"I don't think so," Elias said. "Most people with potential chase visibility. They want ranks. Teams. Validation."
"And I don't."
"You actively avoid it," Elias said. "You downplay. You hesitate. You refuse to capitalize."
Asher stared into his coffee. "Because capitalizing gets people hurt."
Elias watched him for a long moment. Not assessing. Observing.
"That's the interesting part," he said quietly. "Power usually wants permission. You don't."
Asher looked up sharply. "I didn't say I had power."
Elias raised his hands slightly. "You didn't. I did."
Silence stretched between them.
Around them, the café continued its quiet existence. Cups clinked. Someone laughed. A door opened and closed.
Normal life, doing its best impression of indifference.
"You mentioned advisors," Asher said finally. "What does that actually mean?"
"It means information," Elias replied. "Markets. Risks. Who's watching what. When stepping forward is safer than standing still."
"And the cost?"
Elias smiled again, softer this time. "No contracts. No obligations. You don't owe me loyalty. You don't owe me results."
"That's not how this works," Asher said.
"It is if I don't need you," Elias replied. "And if you don't need me."
Asher considered that.
"You said you don't deal in systems," he said.
Elias tilted his head. "I don't."
"So you deal in people."
"I deal in choices," Elias corrected. "And consequences."
Asher leaned back in his chair, exhaled slowly.
"I'm not ready," he said.
Elias nodded. "I didn't expect you to be."
"Then why now?"
"Because," Elias said, standing and picking up his cup, "you're about to reach a point where doing nothing becomes a decision. And decisions attract attention."
He paused, then added, "This conversation stays between us. For now."
Asher watched him turn toward the door.
"Elias," he called.
Elias looked back.
"I'm not interested in being managed."
Elias smiled, genuine this time. "Good. Managed people break."
He left.
Asher sat there for a long moment, coffee cooling in front of him.
The system finally stirred, a faint presence rather than a demand.
He ignored it.
Outside, the city moved on, unaware of conversations that shifted trajectories instead of timelines.
Asher finished his coffee, stood, and headed for the door.
He still wasn't joining anything.
He still wasn't ranking up.
But the space around him felt narrower now.
And for the first time, he understood something clearly:
Staying unseen wasn't about hiding.
It was about choosing when to step into the light.