— Ethan, — Roy called.
— Yes?
— You do understand that I'm always on your side?
His heart skipped a beat for a second.
— I understand, — he replied.
— Then I'll see you soon.
The call ended.
Ethan slowly lowered the phone. His hands were truly shaking now.
Bruno was the first to break the silence:
— Did he buy it?
— He's intrigued, — Flash said.
— Also, I've been invited to this party, — Ethan suddenly leaned forward in front of the whole team, bowing slightly with a theatrical half-reverence, as if he were in some twisted "Truman Show."
— We did it! — Flash shouted, throwing both hands up in the air.
•••
At the same moment, on the other side of the city, in an office with dimmed lights and heavy curtains, Roy took the phone away from his ear and smiled, slowly, almost tenderly.
— Interesting, — he said into the empty air.
He dialed another number, fingers gliding across the screen.
Someone picked up almost instantly.
— Yes? — Corvin's voice was barely audible over the background hum of other people.
— That witness wants to speak, — Roy said.
— Publicly support the reform. I told you I wiped his memory…
Pause.
— He called himself? — Corvin asked.
— Yes.
— And remembers almost nothing?
— Almost nothing, — Roy answered softly.
— Says he saw himself on television.
Corvin was silent for a moment.
— This could benefit all of us…
— Or be suspicious, — Roy noted.
— You'll check him, — Corvin said. The tone left no room for argument.
— Of course.
Roy's smile widened, now distinctly predatory.
— If he really is ours, he'll be the first real test subject.
The call ended, and the scene shifted to a third location.
The upper floors of the election headquarters were bathed in soft golden light. Beyond the panoramic windows, the city glittered with countless lights.
In the center of the room stood a round table of dark wood, polished to a mirror shine. On it lay slim folders, glasses of thick dark wine, and tablets displaying rating charts.
Five people sat around the table.
At the head,Gérard De Millier.
Impeccable suit, silver hair, the calm profile of a man who had not known haste for several centuries.
To his right,Corvin.
Fingers laced together, gaze intense yet confident.
To his left,Richard Hale, Chief of Police. Heavy jaw, cold eyes.
A little farther, Elizabeth Crawford, head of the medical council, studying everyone with her sly, fox-like glance.
Opposite them,Michael Reeves, controller of the city's food supply chains, broad-shouldered, wearing a lazy smirk.
Corvin broke the silence.
— Ratings are stable.
— Support has increased since the reform announcement.
Elizabeth slowly traced her finger across the tablet screen.
— Prime-Blood is generating interest.
— People love the word "reform."
— So we're ahead…
Michael smirked:
— They love anything that promises to free them from weakness.
Richard took a sip.
— The main thing is security.
— Tomorrow the city will have reinforced patrols.
— Biometric checks in three districts.
Corvin lifted his gaze to Gérard.
— We're ready.
Gérard was silent.
He looked out at the city beyond the glass.
— Readiness, — he finally said, voice calm and deep.
— We must be certain of our triumph.
— This is about control.
Elizabeth tilted her head slightly.
— Are you expecting incidents?
— I always expect incidents, — Gérard replied softly.
Richard frowned.
— Our sources are quiet.
— No active resistance groups have been detected.
Michael added lazily:
— A few loud bloggers don't count.
Corvin allowed himself a faint smile.
— Even if someone tries to stage a provocation, they won't get near the stage.
Gérard shifted his gaze to him.
— Confidence is a good quality, Corvin.
— But it should not become a habit.
For a second the room felt colder.
Corvin held his gaze.
— Are you doubting my work?
Michael gave a quiet snort.
— Oh, here we go.
Elizabeth raised her hand, almost gracefully.
— We're not at war here, gentlemen.
— Tomorrow is a historic day.
Richard looked at Corvin.
— Security will screen every guest.
Corvin nodded.
— Even those who are formally clean.
Gérard gave the faintest smile.
— Especially that boy.
Michael leaned back in his chair.
— Seriously? You're still thinking about that kid?
Corvin didn't answer right away.
— Ethan.
The name fell quietly.
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
— The one who accepted the compensation?
— Yes, — Corvin said.
— He'll be at the event.
Richard raised an eyebrow.
— Why? He knows everything about us…
Corvin gave a weak smile, as though he'd heard a private joke, then rubbed his forehead.
— My protégé wiped his memories a month ago, and Gérard still thinks he was the one being watched…
Gérard suddenly looked surprised. He touched his chin, staring at Corvin.
— So I was wrong…
Wait, my intuition has never failed me. I was one hundred percent certain that man was watching me!
But if his memories were truly altered, then it was someone else…
— Still, your intermediary is certain he managed to make him forget the entire incident? — Gérard asked, drilling Corvin with his gaze.
— Absolutely certain. The boy simply wants to make a public gesture of reconciliation, — Corvin replied calmly.
— He saw himself in the news; naturally he wants to apologize…
Michael smirked.
— Well then, perfect.
Gérard looked at Corvin.
— This Ethan, is he under control?
Corvin paused.
— Yes.
Silence settled over the room.
Elizabeth remarked softly:
— Hypnosis is a very delicate tool. One must use the skill correctly.