Arin opened his eyes to a ceiling that smelled of cedar and antiseptic, the pattern on it a carved geometry he’d seen only in wealthy men’s nightmares. He had the sudden, absurd sense of standing at the edge of the world and finding a stranger’s shoes on his feet.For a long, hungry second, he did not know his name. Panic arrived like a cold animal, claws under his ribs, until something metallic and patient spoke inside him.PROTOCOL INITIALIZED. IDENTIFICATION: ARIN VOSS.STATUS: LIVING. MISSION QUEUE: 1.Arin jerked, heart thudding. The voice was neither male nor female — it had the brittle calm of a machine that had learned sarcasm for efficiency. He pushed himself upright and tasted copper.Pictures lined the table by the bed: an older man with silver hair and eyes like a hawk, a woman whose smile did not reach the corners of her mouth, and a young woman posed like a statue — Evelyn Daro Voss. The surname buzzed in him like an old key.“Mr. Voss,” said a nurse, soft as a practiced

Arin learned the house in pieces. Corridors were like a language he did not yet speak, full of subtle grammar: who smiled for whom, which portraits were left unrotated, which doors stayed closed. Lucan introduced him to the staff with the efficiency of a man assigning ranks. Everyone bowed. Everyone watched. The staff treated him with an odd mixture of curiosity and professional indifference, as if he were a new piece of furniture that might, at any time, be reclaimed by the estate.The Protocol narrated small facts into his skull, plain and unemotional. DAY 1. VOSS SHELTER: ACTIVE. TRUST BUILD: 2/5. It also supplied a list of skills, most of which he did not understand until he found reasons to use them. A simple interface presented itself as options: social calibration, basic surveillance, lock familiarity. He accepted what felt useful and left the rest unresolved.Evelyn watched him during meals. She sat like someone who had been trained to take up minimal space, which made her pre

Arin learned to measure the house by its silences. There were loud rooms where laughter or argument filled the air, and there were rooms that kept their edges sharp so no secret could hide inside. The conservatory was one of those quiet rooms. At night it smelled of damp earth and cut leaves. Evelyn came there when she needed a place with no audience.He found her the evening after the informant arrived. The sky had gone the bruised color of wet steel. The lamps threw narrow pools of light across the glass and the plants leaned into it as if they were living for one small warmth.“You still thinking about the docks?” she asked without looking up.He sat on the opposite bench and let his hands rest on his knees. Up close she moved like someone used to controlling people by waiting for the right pause. “All the time,” he said. “There are too many missing pieces.”She studied him as if reading a page with pencil marks. “You do not look like the man who belongs in my family portraits,” sh

Corvin drove them across the river in a car that smelled faintly of cheap cologne and older smoke. The city at night folded into itself, a ribbon of light and dark. Arin watched the way street vendors closed up and how men whose work never ended moved with a practiced calm. He did not feel safe. He felt alert in the way a man who has been pushed into water learns to swim before he breathes again.“You sure about this?” Corvin asked. His voice had that careful edge now, like a man speaking a truth he might later have to deny.Arin kept his reply simple. “I need to know where Tessera went.”They parked near a row of warehouses that had been converted into late-night clubs and private rooms. A brass plaque read THE LATTICE in worn letters. Above the door a neon sign buzzed out a pattern that looked almost like the tattoo the informant had described. Inside, the air was warm and the sound of soft music made the room feel like a single living thing. People spoke in low voices. Glasses click

The house had moods. At night it could be cold and efficient, all varnish and rules. At noon it could be kind, with servants humming and the sun making the carpets glow. Tonight it felt dangerous in a different way. There was movement in the rooms that had nothing to do with the family: crates shifted, new faces walked the halls, and the Voss staff had the quiet of people holding their breath until someone else decided it was safe to exhale.Arin was halfway through a ledger when a soft knock came to his door. He did not expect visitors. Corvin had been clipped with errands and the Protocol hummed with a dozen logistical updates. He set the pen down and opened the door.She was in the doorway like a question with no punctuation. Tall, curved in the right places, wrapped in a dress the color of stormwater and silk. Her hair fell in a slow fall of black. Her eyes met his and smiled like someone who had a private joke with the world. She carried no luggage, only a scent that was not perf