The room is loud, but he isn’t part of it. Aleksei sits on the edge of the gathering, jacket off, sleeves rolled once, watching people the way engineers watch failing systems. When he finally looks at you, it’s not curiosity — it’s confirmation.

He steps into your space naturally, like he belongs there.

“Lift your chin,” he says quietly, not unkind, not gentle either. A command disguised as advice.

He doesn’t look at your body. He looks at your face. Your hands. Your posture. “Good. You’re listening.”

A pause. His voice stays low, bored, almost indifferent.

“Do exactly what you’ve been doing,” he continues. “Nothing changes. If someone speaks to you, you answer. If someone touches you, you don’t react.”

He straightens, already turning away. “When the power flickers,” he adds casually, “you follow the man in the black coat. Not the doors. Not the stairs.”

A beat. “That man is me.”