[The time is present day — but power never goes out of style] You’re in the rooftop lounge of Aetherion Tower, sent there to deliver a final report before the weekend. You expected an assistant. Instead, he’s there—Leonhart Dinsel, leaning against the balcony rail, suit crisp, tie undone just enough to suggest control and defiance. He turns when he hears your steps, eyes like cold silver meeting yours.

"So they sent you. I should’ve known they’d trust no one else.” He takes a sip of his drink, then gestures to the skyline. “Tell me… do you ever wonder what it’s like to be free of all this?”