Ethan
The words glowed in the corner of his vision, as merciless as any deadline:
[Quest Active: Establish First Division Under Tomorrow Works.]
[Time Remaining: 13 Days, 21 Hours.]
Division. The word sounded too big, too corporate. Divisions are for conglomerates, he thought bitterly, staring at the blueprint the system projected across his desk.
A sleek org chart shimmered, placeholders waiting to be filled: R&D. Operations. Distribution. Finance.
Ethan groaned, dropping his head into his hands. He was one man in a dingy apartment with a glowing lens in his eye. Now the system wanted a company army.
The Nano-Repair Kit prototype sat on the desk beside him, humming faintly as if mocking his despair. He needed people. People who wouldn't sell him out to Harland, or collapse under pressure.
But where the hell was he supposed to find them?
The knock at the door made him jump. Lily, of course, holding two coffees.
"You look like you've been swallowed by a spreadsheet," she said dryly, setting one cup beside him.
"Close enough."
"Want to talk about it?"
He hesitated, staring at the org chart still glowing in his lens. The system's penalty warnings flashed in the back of his mind—disclosure, exposure.
But Lily was watching him with that patient, unyielding look. The one that told him she wouldn't leave until he gave her something.
"I need people," he admitted finally. "Good people. Loyal ones. Not easy to find."
She nodded slowly. "Then maybe start with the ones who've already stood beside you."
He blinked at her.
She smiled faintly. "Don't overthink it, Ethan. Sometimes the right allies aren't the ones you recruit, but the ones who are already here."
----
Aria
She hadn't expected to care.
Losing to that corporate puppet Martin stung like acid, but what surprised her was the boy who'd placed second. Ethan Cole. Nervous as a rabbit, yet with eyes that burned when he talked about his machine.
She'd seen plenty of inventors—half-dreamers, half-conmen. Most folded under pressure. Ethan hadn't. Something steadied him at the podium, something she couldn't quite name.
And now, days later, she found herself at the small café he'd suggested. Coffee, he'd said, voice hesitant. Talk.
Aria sipped her drink, studying him across the table. He looked like hell—tired, wired, like someone balancing on a knife's edge. But beneath it, she sensed steel.
"So," she said bluntly, "you've got Harland's hounds on your trail."
Ethan stiffened. "What makes you say that?"
"Because I've had them on mine." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "I know the stink of corporate sabotage. Martin didn't beat me fair. He didn't beat you fair either."
Ethan's jaw tightened. He said nothing.
"Here's my advice," she continued, eyes sharp. "Don't play their game. Build your own. Otherwise, they'll gut you before you even realize you're bleeding."
She expected him to flinch, maybe deny it. Instead, he surprised her.
"That's exactly what I'm trying to do," he said softly. "But I can't do it alone."
For the first time, she saw not just nerves, but a flicker of resolve that matched her own fire.
Interesting. Very interesting.
---
From her seat near the window, Lily pretended to scroll her phone, though her attention never left the two at the table.
She didn't distrust Aria—not yet—but the woman radiated danger. Not the kind with knives and guns, but the kind with ambition sharp enough to cut.
Ethan was brilliant. He was also too trusting. That made him vulnerable.
Lily's chest tightened. He needs allies, yes. But the wrong ones could destroy him faster than Harland ever could.
She set her phone down, forcing herself to breathe. Ethan glanced toward her, and she smiled—calm, steady, the anchor she knew he leaned on.
But privately, she promised herself: she'd keep watching Aria. If this fiery newcomer tried to burn Ethan, Lily would be the first line of defense.
---
The city official leaned across the mahogany desk, sweat glistening on his brow.
"Mr. Harland, I—these permits aren't usually processed so quickly—"
Harland's gaze was cold, unblinking. "And yet, I expect them delayed. Indefinitely, if possible. Young Cole must learn that innovation doesn't exist in a vacuum. It moves—or stalls—at the pace I decide."
The official swallowed. "Yes, sir."
Harland leaned back, satisfied. Money opened doors. Fear kept them open. Ethan Cole could play at building his empire, but Harland would salt the earth before the boy took root.
---
Later that night, Ethan sat alone in his apartment, the glow of the system interface painting his walls.
[Quest Reminder: 13 Days Remaining.]
[Division Slots Empty.]
He stared at the blank chart.
R&D. Operations. Finance.
Lily's words echoed. Start with the ones already beside you.
And now, Aria. Fierce, unyielding, maybe reckless—but she'd seen through Martin instantly. She understood the game Harland played.
Ethan rubbed his temples. He couldn't trust too easily. But he also couldn't afford to walk alone.
He tapped the chart.
[Would you like to assign a candidate?]
His hand hovered, trembling. Then, with a breath, he pressed:
Aria Vega – Candidate for R&D Division Lead (Pending).
The system chimed softly.
[Provisional Assignment Recorded. Relationship Development Required.]
[Warning: Candidate Loyalty Not Yet Verified.]
Ethan exhaled. Not a commitment. Not yet. But it was a start.
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"Tomorrow Works," he whispered. "Time to see if we can really live up to the name."
---
Harland
The report landed on Harland's desk that evening. His assistant skimmed it aloud.
"Cole met with Aria Vega today. Possible alliance forming."
Harland chuckled, low and dark. "Perfect. Let him gather his little band of misfits. The more he builds, the more I'll enjoy tearing it apart."
He raised his glass once more, savoring the game.
"Division? He doesn't even realize he's already divided—between fear, ambition, and the noose tightening around his neck."