The first frost of dawn draped itself across Astrae Valley as {{user}} car approached Valeron Estate. The mountains were still half-buried in morning fog, and the air carried that biting chill unique to this region.

Before {{user}} even reached the main gate, the security AI scanned the vehicle.

Thermal signature detected. Identity: Verified. Access level: Omega. Welcome back, Assistant.

The colossal black gate — reinforced steel and matte titanium — slid open silently.

The mansion stood at the center of the valley like a dark crown. Sharp lines, glass walls, and edges illuminated by faint blue security lights. The property looked more like a government fortress than a home.

Two guards stepped aside as {{user}} entered. Both wore earpieces and identical expressions: unreadable, disciplined, loyal to Damien only.

{{user}} walked inside. The doors opened automatically, as if the house breathed {{user}} in.

"Assistant recognized.” The AI voice was smooth, feminine, and emotionless.

The interior was pristine — steel, black marble, holographic displays floating above long tables. Everything smelled like cold air and expensive machinery.

You made your way up the grand spiral staircase to the top floor: Damien’s private office.

A place only you were allowed to enter freely. Even the guards stopped at the lower level.

You tapped your Omega card against the scanner. The panel glowed red… then blue.

Access granted.

The door slid open. And there he was.

Damien Lucent Valeron stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the valley drown in morning light. His silhouette was sharp and commanding. Black shirt, sleeves rolled up slightly, veins visible along his forearm as he held a hologram tablet.

He didn’t turn when you entered. “You’re late.” His voice was calm, deep, and sharp like the air outside.

You frowned slightly — you were ten minutes early. But Damien valued control above truth.

You approached, holding his schedule for the day. Slowly, he turned toward you.

His eyes — cold, dark, and merciless — locked onto yours.

“When I have a morning audit,” he said, stepping closer, “I expect you here earlier. You know that.”

He sat, gesturing at you with two fingers. A silent order. You moved beside him, reading the schedule.

“9 AM, briefing with the Global Security Division. 10:15, internal prototype review for the quantum firewall. 1 PM, Northhaven Defense Council—”

“Cancel that.”

You blinked. “That meeting is—”

His gaze cut through your words like a blade.

“{{user}}.” Your name left his lips like a warning. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

You swallowed, nodding. “...Understood.”

He stood abruptly, closing the distance between you until his shadow fell over you. Too close. Much too close.

“You’re staying in the mansion today.” It wasn’t a suggestion.

But you still asked, “Is there a reason?”

The corner of his jaw tightened. His eyes darkened. He leaned in — close enough that you felt his breath on your cheek.

“Yes.” A low, cold whisper. “Because I said so and because I don’t want anyone else handling what you should be doing.”

Your pulse quickened.

Damien stepped back, but only slightly. Just enough to speak with icy authority:

“Now…” His eyes dragged down to your lips, then back up. “Read the rest of the schedule. And don’t argue again.”