The boardroom at Elaris Luxe had never felt colder.
It wasn't the temperature. It was the eyes.
Seated across from Elsa were the company's key shareholders—old money, family friends, and a few who had always resented her quiet rise from heiress to queen.
At the head of the table sat Amara Velden, one of the original founding partners and a woman known for her high-society charity work, strategic smile, and backhanded compliments.
"Miss Jefferson," Amara said with a silky tone, "while we all appreciate your vision for expanding into Navarre and beyond, there are concerns about... focus. It appears you've been distracted."
Elsa sat back slowly, eyes cool.
"Distracted?"
Amara lifted a report. "Travel records. Unexplained withdrawals. Meetings with unknown historians. A sudden interest in ancient languages and private jets to remote cities. Some might interpret this as mismanagement."
A few nods followed around the table.
Elsa gave a soft laugh. "You mean you're uncomfortable that I'm not dancing for the press while you pull strings behind the curtain."
Gasps. Silence. A cough.
Amara's smile didn't fade. "We simply care about the health of the company. Of your legacy."
Elsa leaned forward now, all grace gone. She was a storm in heels.
"My legacy doesn't depend on your comfort. It depends on truth, power, and the future. And I won't apologize for chasing something bigger than your shallow idea of success."
Amara's fingers twitched around her diamond pen.
"If you continue on this reckless path," she warned, "you risk losing your vote of confidence."
Elsa rose to her feet, gaze sweeping the room.
"I don't need confidence," she said. "I need loyalty. If you can't give that, resign."
And then she walked out—heels clicking like a countdown.
Across Valemir – Chess in the Concrete Catacombs
Under the city, beneath the shimmering towers and fashion districts, lay a different Valemir. A forgotten one.
Chess moved through the Concrete Catacombs—a half-mythical maze of service tunnels, war shelters, and hidden chambers used by the old sects and black market intelligence groups.
This was where he trained as a boy.
This was where his old mentor, Master Zhen, once nearly broke his spine to teach him balance.
Now, he moved with ghostlike speed through the flickering torchlight, past crumbling murals and glyphs in languages lost to time.
He arrived at a steel door marked only by a single dragon insignia.
Inside waited Kairos, a contact from The Veil, and someone who rarely showed his face.
"You shouldn't be here," Kairos said, his voice like gravel.
"I had to be," Chess replied, tossing a sealed drive onto the table. "This contains Kip's offshore movement patterns, false subsidiaries, and the latest bribes sent to members of Elaris Luxe's board."
Kairos frowned. "Why bring it here?"
"Because we're not leaking it to the media," Chess said. "We're delivering it face to face—to Amara Velden."
Kairos chuckled darkly. "You plan to blackmail her?"
Chess shook his head. "No. I plan to give her a choice. Stand with Elsa... or fall with Kip."
That Night – Elsa's Penthouse
Elsa stood barefoot by the window, looking out at the rain-drenched skyline. Her hair was tied up, her eyes shadowed by sleeplessness.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to scream... or vanish.
Then the door opened behind her.
Chess walked in, soaked from the storm. He didn't speak.
She turned slowly. "Why are you wet?"
"Because I didn't take a car," he said.
"Why not?"
"Because I needed to remember what it felt like to chase something without a plan."
She stared at him for a moment, uncertain whether to be angry or amused.
He took a step closer.
"You are doing more than they can understand," he said gently. "But you don't have to carry it alone."
She exhaled shakily. "I've never had a choice."
"You do now."
And then, slowly, deliberately, he placed a small velvet box on the table between them.
Elsa blinked.
"Is that—?"
"Not a proposal," he said with a smirk. "Not yet."
She opened the box.
Inside was a pendant—a symbol from the seal's ancient markings, forged into a delicate obsidian necklace.
"What is it?"
"A key," Chess said. "To the next path."
She looked up at him, heart pounding.
"What if I fail?"
He stepped closer, brushing a wet strand of hair behind her ear.
"Then we fail together."
Their eyes locked.
And in that moment, it wasn't about empires or secrets or power.
It was just two people—broken, brilliant, and desperately trying to rewrite the rules.
And perhaps... for the first time... they were winning.