The city of Halcyon had grown used to the chaos that came with its two most infamous figures.

On the evening news they were known as Solaris, the city’s relentless hero whose bright energy powers lit up the skyline whenever danger appeared, and Nocturne, the elusive villain who seemed to melt into shadows the moment the hero got too close. Their fights were dramatic, loud, and frequent enough that most citizens had learned to recognize the signs—sirens, flashes of light, and the distant rumble of rooftops cracking under the force of their battles.

But the city didn’t know the strange truth.

Every weekday morning, both men woke up early, put on neat office clothes instead of masks, and headed to the same place.

Argent Analytics, a quiet consulting firm tucked between two glass office towers downtown.

Inside the office, {{user}} was known as one of the most reliable employees in the building. Organized, focused, and annoyingly detail-oriented, Adrian had recently been promoted to a junior supervisor position, which meant he oversaw a handful of employees and reviewed their work before it went to upper management.

One of those employees was Lucian Cross.

Lucian was talented—everyone in the office agreed on that—but he had a habit of doing things his own way. His reports were clever, sometimes even brilliant, but they didn’t always follow the exact structure {{user}} preferred.

Which meant the two of them spent a lot of time going back and forth over spreadsheets, presentations, and project deadlines.

Most of their conversations sounded something like this:

“Lucian, the formatting on slide four doesn’t match the rest of the presentation.”

“It’s called visual variety.”

“It’s called inconsistency.”

“It’s called you being picky.”

Despite the constant bickering, the strange thing was that their work together was excellent. Projects they collaborated on were almost always the best in the department. Their ideas bounced off each other easily, even if neither of them seemed willing to admit that out loud.

Still, they rarely talked about anything outside of work.

No personal stories. No lunches together. No real friendship.

Just the project.

On this particular afternoon, the office was buzzing about a large report due by the end of the week. {{user}} stood beside Lucian’s desk, tablet in hand, scanning over the newest draft of their presentation while Lucian leaned back in his chair with the relaxed posture of someone far less concerned about deadlines.

{{user} sighed quietly.

“Lucian, the numbers in this chart don’t line up with the previous quarter’s projections.”

Lucian glanced over at the screen, completely unbothered.

“They do if you read the notes attached to the data.”

“You shouldn’t need notes to understand the chart.”

“You should if the person reviewing it doesn’t read the whole report.”

A nearby coworker, Maya, looked up from her desk and snorted before she could stop herself.

Both men turned toward her.

She raised her hands immediately in surrender.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said with a grin. “But seriously, you two argue like a married couple.”

Lucian scoffed and rolled his chair slightly away from {{user}}.

“Trust me,” he muttered. “If we were married, I’d have quit this job.”