CHAPTER 225: CHAPTER 225: LEFT SIDE OF THE DESK

The doors slid open to a wave of cool, filtered air and the faint hum of machinery beneath the floor.

Elias had been here before, more times than he wanted to admit, always as a guest, escorted through these corridors like a rare and fragile specimen. Victor’s omega. Victor’s mate. The whispered titles followed him then, wrapped in a strange mix of reverence and curiosity.

But this time was different.

Now he wasn’t here to be protected... Who was he lying to? Of course, he was to be protected too, but as a main quest, he was here to work. Officially. Publicly. Unfortunately.

The research floor stretched out before them, a vast expanse of gleaming glass, black marble, and faint ether light. Screens floated in the air, flickering with data; the faint scent of ozone lingered like a heartbeat under the surface. Every sound, footsteps, voices, and the pulse of the ether conduits appeared abnormally clear.

Elias slowed, scanning the room. The faces that turned toward them were familiar in the worst possible way: scientists, analysts, and engineers who had seen him pass before in silence, half-curious, half-terrified to breathe too loud in Victor’s presence.

Now, though, their curiosity had teeth.

Victor walked ahead of him with the unhurried ease of someone who owned not only the building but also the gravity that held it together. Ashwin followed half a step behind, a silent shadow of precision and amusement.

Elias straightened his collar and muttered, "They’re staring again."

Victor didn’t look at him. "They’re assessing."

"Same thing."

Ashwin’s voice carried from behind, calm as always. "At least now they’ll have official clearance to speak to you, sir."

"That doesn’t make it better," Elias muttered.

By the time they reached the center of the atrium, the entire floor had gone quiet. Rows of personnel turned toward them instinctively, like clockwork, or worship.

Victor stopped, his presence alone commanding stillness. "Good morning," he said, his voice calm but firm enough to ripple through the air. "Most of you have already seen Dr. Clarke on previous visits. Today, however, marks the beginning of his official role within Internal Affairs.

"

A gentle current of sound ran through the room, a shared, restrained murmur.

Victor continued, "Dr. Clarke will serve as the department’s senior ether analyst, reporting directly to me. His work on resonance containment, stabilization models, and external collaboration with our partner divisions has already proven... valuable."

Elias’s brow twitched. "That pause was ominous."

Ashwin murmured behind him, "It was complimentary, sir."

Victor went on, unbothered. "He has been granted Level Seven clearance. His directives are to be treated as my own."

That silenced even the whispers. Level Seven was the kind of clearance usually reserved for gods, high command, or people who no longer needed to ask permission for anything.

Elias leaned slightly toward Victor. "Level Seven? Really?"

Victor didn’t look at him. "You live here. It would be rude not to trust you with the infrastructure."

Elias exhaled slowly. "That’s the worst logic I’ve ever heard."

Victor turned to him. "Would you like to say something?"

"No," Elias said immediately.

Victor waited.

Elias sighed, the long, world-weary sound of a man regretting every decision that led him to this exact moment. "Fine."

He stepped forward, every pair of eyes following him like a gravitational pull he didn’t ask for. "Good morning," he began, his tone perfectly dry. "I’m Dr. Elias Clarke. Some of you have probably seen me before, hovering somewhere behind Mr. Numen, trying not to look like I was being held hostage. I wasn’t. Yet."

A few quiet laughs slipped through the ranks.

"I’m new to this department but not to the research," Elias continued. "So if I ask too many questions, it’s because I actually want to know how things work, not because I’m judging your methods. Probably."

More laughter, cautious but genuine this time.

"I’ll do my best not to interfere too much," Elias finished, his mouth twitching at the corner. "Unless it’s interesting."

Victor’s expression softened, the faintest trace of pride beneath the polished authority. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Clarke."

"Thanks," Elias muttered. "I already regret it."

Ashwin leaned closer, voice low but amused. "You handled that very well, sir."

"Don’t encourage me," Elias said, trying not to smile.

Victor turned back to the staff. "That will be all. Return to your work. Dr. Clarke will begin orientation today. And if anyone is uncertain about his authority..." His gaze flicked toward the rows of employees, calm but sharp. "I suggest they remember who gave it to him."

The silence that followed was reverent. The kind of silence that felt like the pause between lightning and thunder.

When the staff finally dispersed, Elias exhaled and rubbed his temple. "You enjoy doing that, don’t you?"

"Doing what?" Victor asked.

"Commanding a room like you’re blessing it."

Victor’s lips curved faintly. "Practice."

"Cruel practice," Elias muttered, following him toward his new lab. "I swear, if someone bows to me again, I’m hiding in the ventilation ducts."

Ashwin’s tone was perfectly sincere. "Those are restricted areas, sir."

Elias groaned. "Of course they are."

"Welcome to Numen Corporation," Victor said softly, holding the door open for him.

"Welcome to my suffering," Elias replied, stepping inside.

—

The door slid shut behind them with a soft hiss that marked the end of the ceremony and the return of reality.

Elias stood in the middle of Victor’s office, the largest one on the floor, naturally, its expanse of dark glass and gold-trimmed panels framing the skyline like a declaration of power. He’d been here before, but it felt different now. Less like a safehouse and more like a gilded cage he had willingly signed a contract to inhabit.

The desk near the center wasn’t really a desk; it was an altar of order. Every file, datapad, and stylus perfectly aligned, every screen in soft synchronization. The faint hum of the ether core beneath the floor blended with the rhythm of Victor’s breathing. It was a space that did not allow chaos.

Which was unfortunate, because Elias was currently radiating it.

He stared around, crossed his arms, and exhaled. "You weren’t joking when you said I’d be working with you."

Victor set the slate on the desk and looked at him with the kind of composure that bordered on cruelty. "You’ll find it efficient."

"I’ll find it suffocating," Elias countered. "There’s not even a door between our workstations. That’s not collaboration; that’s surveillance."

Ashwin, standing near the entrance with the ease of a man enjoying someone else’s distress, said politely, "Transparency encourages productivity, Doctor."

Elias turned slowly toward him. "You’re really trying to make me throw something today, aren’t you?"

"Not intentionally," Ashwin said, though the faintest trace of a grin betrayed him. "Would you like your things brought up from storage?"

"My things?" Elias echoed. "You mean the one box of books and the caffeine contraband you both confiscated last week?"

Victor sat down behind his desk, unhurried, every motion deliberate. "The coffee machine in this office uses calibrated filters. I’ll allow supervised use."

Elias blinked. "Supervised?"

"After the incident with the vending machine, I prefer precautions."

"That was months ago," Elias said sharply. "It was a diplomatic misunderstanding."

"You kicked it," Ashwin supplied helpfully.

"I tapped it," Elias corrected. "With my foot. Once."

Victor looked up, crimson eyes gleaming faintly. "The footage disagrees."

Elias threw his hands up, muttering, "You two are impossible."

Victor leaned back slightly, still watching him. "You say that often."

"Because it’s true often," Elias said, pacing toward the window. The view was obscene: hundreds of miles of city and light stretching beneath them like a circuit board for gods. He pressed a hand to the cool glass and sighed. "You realize this entire floor worships you, right? It’s like working inside your own church."

Victor’s tone was mild. "Would you prefer a smaller congregation?"

"I’d prefer walls," Elias shot back. "Maybe a corner. Something that implies boundaries."

"You can have the left side of the desk," Victor said.

Elias turned to stare at him. "You’re not serious."

"I am."