The early morning light filtered through the tall windows of NovaCore’s office, casting soft golden rays over the polished floors and scattered papers that littered the desks. The stillness of the room was broken only by the soft hum of the air system and the distant rumble of traffic from outside. Kael was already sitting up, his body stiff and tired, leaning back in the plush office chair, his fingers tapping idly on the desk. His coat, which he had used as a makeshift blanket, had slipped off during the night and now lay crumpled on the floor. He squinted at the fragments of the relic, still carefully arranged on the desk in front of him, his thoughts distant. Across the room, Aaron groaned as he slowly sat up, rubbing his temples with a pained expression. The remnants of sleep clung to him, his movements sluggish as he tried to gather himself. The night had definitely taken its toll. “Ugh... What even happened last night?” Aaron mumbled, his voice thick with the remnants of sle

The morning sun crept gently through the tall glass panes of NovaCore’s executive floor, casting golden light across polished marble and shadows that stretched like soft strokes on a canvas. The city buzzed faintly below, a distant hum of awakening life. Inside the office, Kael sat in quiet stillness. The high-backed leather chair bore his frame like a throne. Draped in a tailored black shirt with crisp silver cuffs, Kael rested his elbow on the armrest, fingers curled near his chin, eyes unreadable. His gaze fixed on nothing and everything. Across the room, Aaron cradled a steaming mug of coffee, its aroma subtle but grounding. He took a sip, sighing with content. “The silence in here makes this taste even better,” he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. Harold Vance stood respectfully to the side, aged but sharp in a navy suit, eyes focused, posture straight. Waiting. Kael's voice cut through the calm, low and composed. “I want a brand. One that commands attention—not by