"Move aside, pauper. You're blocking the entrance."The voice was sharp, entitled. Javier turned slowly, his expression unreadable. Dressed simply in a black linen shirt and slacks, he looked nothing like the owner of the massive tech empire behind him. He stood alone in front of a luxury hotel in Vienna, waiting for Valeria to return from the lobby.Three men stood behind him—one of them, in a pristine suit and gold watch, narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t you hear me?” he sneered. “Step aside before I have my men move you.”Javier said nothing. His gaze remained calm, steady.The man stepped closer. “What’s the matter? Too broke to speak? Or are you one of those quiet beggars? This isn’t your place, rat. This is for people

The ballroom buzzed with conversations and clinking glasses. Javier stood quietly near the far wall, scanning the sea of industry leaders and powerful guests. He wasn't one for parties—especially ones filled with people who would smile at you and stab you the moment your back turned.Valeria returned to his side and murmured, “Your presence is already causing ripples. Three tech conglomerates tried to pull their projects from G-Tech the moment they realized you’re here.”Javier tilted his head slightly. “Predictable.”Just then, someone bumped into him—hard.Wine sloshed onto Javier’s shirt.“Oh, bloody hell!” the man exclaimed. “You could’ve moved, you statue. Who the hell stands there like a—”He trailed off as he looked up.A tall man in his early forties, slick brown hair, red face from too much wine—Aiden Rothwell, owner of Rothwell Industries, and notoriously loud-mouthed at every summit.Aiden’s gaze narrowed.“Oh. It’s you,” he sneered, looking at Javier's wine-stained shirt.

“You there,” said the man in the crimson velvet suit, snapping his fingers at Javier, who stood silently near the rear of the auction hall. “You’re in the wrong place. The servant’s door is in the back.”Javier didn’t respond.The man, Reynard Voss — son of media magnate Elliot Voss — smirked and took a dramatic sip of champagne. “Security’s gotten sloppy. They’re letting in anyone now.”A few nearby guests chuckled. Eyes turned toward Javier, curiosity flickering. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, understated and quiet, not flashy like the rest. He didn’t speak. He didn’t flinch.Reynard wasn’t finished. “Tell me, janitor—do you even know where you are? This is the Vanthall Auction. The lowest-priced item here is worth more than your yearly wage.”The crowd laughed louder this time.Javier glanced briefly at his watch. “Are you done?” he asked, voice calm, deliberate.Reynard froze, surprised by the tone. “What did you say?”“I asked if you’re done,” Javier repeated, unmoved.

Javier stood at the podium, his eyes scanning the vast expanse of the global tech summit. It was an annual gathering of the world's most influential figures in the tech world. Startups, billion-dollar enterprises, innovators, and government officials filled the room, but none of them had quite the gravitas that Javier carried with him. At least, not yet.The audience quieted as the next speaker, a man by the name of Marcus Renshaw, stood to his feet. Marcus was known for his outlandish claims, his seemingly endless funding, and his large ego that could fill the entire conference hall. He was an upstart billionaire with a reputation for being ruthless — and that reputation was what made him a perfect rival for Javier.Marcus had made it his mission to dethrone Everhart Industries, and in the process, he’d targeted Javier’s most prized project — a new AI-based algorithm for quantum computing that Javier had spent years developing. Renshaw had already tried to undercut the project with a

News of Marcus Renshaw’s public humiliation had spread like wildfire through the business world, especially after footage of him being escorted out of the summit made its rounds online. Javier, as always, remained unbothered by the noise. He was already two steps ahead, focused on the deeper enemy—the consortium.Inside his private study, Javier reviewed encrypted files, eyes scanning faster than the average mind could comprehend. Alchemy wasn’t just about turning lead into gold. For Javier, a direct descendant of the ancient art, it was about transformation—of matter, of strategy, of power.Valeria entered the room without knocking, her presence calm but purposeful. "The contact from Zurich confirmed. The financial trail leads straight to Konstantin Sorel."Javier nodded slowly. "The head of Sorel Holdings. One of the consortium’s top financiers."Valeria crossed her arms. "You really think he’ll fall for the bait?""He won’t need to," Javier said, standing. "Because by the time he r