---
Chapter 36: The Pause Between Pulses
For once, Matteo didn't wake up to alerts.
No crisis in the Temple network.
No symbolic tribunal.
No market recalibration.
Just a quiet email from Camille, sent at 2:03 a.m.
> Subject: Step Away
Matteo—
You've done enough for now. Let us carry it. Take a break. Not a symbolic one. A real one. No comms. No dashboards. No legacy.
We'll hold the light.
Go breathe.
---
He didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he stared at the ceiling of the Livorno apartment where he once crashed on the floor beside Davide's backpack.
The silence felt foreign—almost intrusive.
But so was the weight in his chest.
Not grief. Not fear.
Just… hollowness. The kind that comes from having won something too big to hold.
---
That afternoon, he walked into the Temple of Livorno and announced his temporary leave.
The stewards nodded, surprised but understanding.
They knew. The ledger had its tides, too.
Camille had already arranged everything.
Access codes handed off.
Vault supervision distributed.
Cipher's protocols set to auto-escalate only in existential threat scenarios.
Everything would hold.
The world no longer needed Matteo every hour.
It needed him to last.
---
By the end of the week, his itinerary was finalized.
No security convoy. No press.
A nameless ferry to a Mediterranean island chain. Unmapped. Offline.
No Temple node within 100 kilometers.
Just the ocean, old stones, and anonymity.
---
Davide handed him a canvas bag at the port.
"What's this?" Matteo asked.
"Food. Books. A sketchpad. And a rule."
Matteo raised an eyebrow.
"No building anything while you're gone."
He smirked. "What if I meet someone who wants to build?"
Davide didn't smile.
"Then let them. But don't lead."
---
Camille met him last.
Her hug lasted longer than usual.
"No systems," she whispered.
"No numbers. No coin. No code."
Then she pressed something into his palm.
It was a blank Aeon token—a smooth silver disc with no engravings, no rituals.
"Fill it however you want," she said. "Or don't."
---
The ferry departed under soft winds.
Matteo stood at the bow, a single bag at his feet, the sea open before him.
He didn't check the ledger.
Didn't sync his biometrics.
Didn't touch the world he built.
For the first time in almost seven years…
Matteo Silvestri disappeared.
---
He would arrive that night in a village with no Temple, no reverence, and no recognition.
He would walk cobbled streets, taste bread made without machines, and hear laughter unbound by economy.
And there—under an arch of bougainvillea, with salt on his skin and sand in his shoes—he would meet her.
A woman named Lina.
A smile like mischief.
A laugh like forgetting.
And eyes that didn't ask what he did, but who he was when no one was watching.
---
Matteo wouldn't know it yet.
But what began as healing…
…would soon become the most personal deception he'd ever face.
---
End of Chapter 36
End of Volume 1