Filin stood at the edge of the crowded street, staring at Elysium.
The city was beautiful—too beautiful.
Glass towers stretched into the sky like polished blades, their surfaces reflecting endless screens and artificial light. Advertisements moved seamlessly across buildings, colors shifting with impossible precision. Some structures twisted upward in elegant spirals, while others stood like monuments of wealth, decorated with massive holographic displays.
The air smelled faintly of flowers and fuel.
Despite the constant traffic and roaring engines, the atmosphere felt strangely clean—filtered, processed, controlled.
"This place doesn't feel real," Filin muttered.
Beside him, Luca laughed lightly. "You'll get used to it."
Wide roads divided pedestrians and cyclists with mathematical precision. Overhead trains glided between buildings without sound, their magnetic rails glowing faintly blue. Supercars streamed through the streets—Bugattis, Koenigseggs, machines Filin had only seen on screens before—drifting around corners as if traffic laws were optional.
Here, speed wasn't reckless.
It was status.
Filin scanned the crowd again.
Men in tailored suits. Women dressed in effortless luxury. Watches worth more than his entire hometown.
Then something else struck him.
"…Luca," he whispered. "Have you noticed something strange?"
"What now?"
"There are no children."
Luca paused. "Huh?"
"I haven't seen anyone younger than sixteen. Not even one."
Luca shrugged. "That's normal here."
"How is that normal?"
"The wealthy don't let their kids wander around. Too dangerous. Too many distractions. They're either in private academies or taught at home."
Filin frowned. "That's… unsettling."
A sudden roar erupted as several hypercars blasted through the intersection.
Someone laughed loudly.
"Look at those kids! Driving low-level luxury!"
Another voice shouted, "Bugatti and Koenigsegg only! No EMP cars—only the president owns one!"
Filin swallowed.
EMP.
The name was everywhere.
Every screen lit up again.
A man appeared.
Tall. Black hair. Calm eyes.
His face dominated more than half the city's displays—advertising watches, clothing, vehicles, technology. Every product shimmered with the same diamond symbol.
EMP.
"He's everywhere," Filin said quietly.
Luca nodded. "That's normal."
"How is that normal too?"
"Because that's Asad."
They reached the pedestrian signal, joining a large crowd waiting to cross.
Despite the noise, something felt wrong.
People whispered.
Not excited. Not afraid.
Just… tense.
"He's here."
"Obviously. Are you blind?"
"Don't stare."
Filin leaned closer to Luca. "Why is everyone angry?"
"Stop whispering into my ear," Luca said. "I hate that."
"I'm serious."
"They're always like this. Don't think too much."
The signal changed.
The crowd surged forward.
And that's when Filin saw him.
Standing only a few steps away.
Not on a screen.
Not behind glass.
Right there.
Asad.
No security. No entourage. No arrogance.
Just a man in dark clothes, walking like anyone else.
A middle-aged man stumbled and collided with him.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"I—I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the man panicked, shaking violently.
Asad spoke softly. "It's fine. No one's hurt."
For a brief moment, something cold flickered in his eyes—gone before anyone noticed.
He walked away.
"Hey!" Filin said. "Why isn't anyone helping that man?"
"I will," Luca replied, pulling the man upright.
"I see Asad every day," Luca continued. "On screens, everywhere. But when he's here… in front of us… people act like he's invisible."
"Why?"
"I don't know. He's kind. Quiet. Half-owner of EMP, they say. No one knows who owns the other half."
Asad passed them, footsteps calm.
People whispered as he walked.
"I want an EMP watch…"
"I'd beg him for one."
"Don't joke."
He didn't react.
He never did.
He followed the riverside road, lights reflecting across the water. Food stalls lined the banks, laughter echoing faintly beneath the bridge.
Asad lifted his hand toward his mouth.
"Oha," he murmured softly.
"Let's go drink coffee. Like always."