Chapter 246: Offering
Ecliptica Tower was the kind of place where money didn’t just move, it lived.
Ninety-seven floors of glass and light, guarded by walls of security and decor polished enough to reflect your own hesitation.
Merlin passed through it all silently. His invitation was enough to part every checkpoint like a whisper.
The elevator hummed upward, smooth and quiet, until the world outside became nothing but streaks of light below.
Ding.
The doors opened to a single corridor lined with dark marble. At the end, a glass lounge lit by low amber light.
A figure waited there, standing by the window, city sprawling endlessly beneath him.
"Mr. Everhart."
Adrian Kael turned. The man’s presence still carried that same quiet dominance, the weight of command sharpened by years of power.
He wore no tie tonight. His jacket was unbuttoned, the faintest trace of exhaustion beneath the sharp lines of his expression.
"Chairman," Merlin greeted, his tone calm but wary.
Kael gestured toward the table already set for two. "Sit."
Merlin obeyed, the leather chair soft under his hands. A faint classical melody drifted through the room, piano, low and deliberate.
Kael sat opposite him, pouring a measure of wine into both glasses.
"You don’t drink, do you?" he asked, voice smooth.
Merlin met his gaze. "Not much."
Kael nodded, pushing one glass aside. "Then it’s here for me."
For a while, silence filled the room again, the sound of the city far below echoing faintly through the glass walls.
Finally, Kael spoke.
"I had my team brief me on you again."
Merlin raised a brow slightly. "Again?"
Kael’s lips curved faintly. "After last night’s board meeting, you piqued curiosity. A boy, what are you, seventeen?, owning eight percent of Invoke." He swirled the wine. "Not something one overlooks."
Merlin didn’t respond immediately. He’d learned something about Kael already: he wanted silence, because silence revealed more than words.
Eventually, Merlin said, "I just saw potential."
Kael chuckled. It was a low, heavy sound, not unkind, but not friendly either. "Potential. You invested when no one else did. Our valuation was half of what it is now. Either you’re very lucky... or you know more than you let on."
Merlin’s tone was level. "I read patterns. I trusted them."
Kael’s eyes narrowed slightly, amused. "Patterns? Or people?"
"Both," Merlin said simply.
That earned a small nod of approval.
Dinner was served quietly, silver trays, polished cutlery, a meal that was too expensive to have a taste. Merlin ate little; Kael didn’t seem to eat at all.
When the staff withdrew, Kael leaned forward, clasping his hands.
"Mr. Everhart. There’s something we need to discuss, off record."
Merlin stayed still. "I’m listening."
Kael studied him. His eyes were storm-gray, cutting through pretense.
"You handled the prototype."
It wasn’t a question.
Merlin kept his tone even. "I was curious. It was offered."
"Indeed." Kael’s fingers drummed lightly on the table. "And?"
Merlin thought about lying. But Kael would see through that instantly.
"...It’s not like anything I’ve seen before," he said slowly. "It doesn’t draw from mana, and it doesn’t seem to rely on any affinity system."
Kael’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened. "Go on."
Merlin hesitated. "It feels... foreign. Too precise. Too advanced."
Kael leaned back. "You have a good eye."
He set his glass down. "We’ve spent the last year trying to replicate that core. It came to us through a third party, and our best researchers can’t determine its source. Not even Hale could. You looked at it once and noticed what they couldn’t describe properly."
Merlin didn’t reply.
Kael continued, his tone quiet but steady. "There’s a reason I called this dinner. I want you to join Invoke’s internal board."
Merlin blinked. "...Pardon?"
Kael smiled faintly. "Not as a shareholder. As a consultant. A direct analyst on our weapon development division. I’ll compensate you well, of course."
The words hung in the air like bait.
Merlin knew better than to react.
"What do you want from me exactly?"
"Your insight," Kael said smoothly. "Your... intuition. You see things differently. And Invoke could use that right now. We’re expanding faster than ever, but expansion without understanding leads to collapse. You could help us avoid that."
Merlin’s gaze drifted briefly toward the window, toward the endless sprawl of city lights.
"Why me?" he asked quietly. "There are smarter people. Older ones."
Kael smiled thinly. "Because none of them unnerved Helena Vos with a single sentence."
Merlin exhaled slowly through his nose.
’So that’s it,’ he thought. ’He’s testing the edges of my knowledge.’
But there was something else there too , a flicker behind Kael’s composure, something that wasn’t just corporate curiosity.
Maybe Kael did know where the Lazarus core had come from. Maybe he just wanted to see if Merlin would confirm it.
Either way, this wasn’t a dinner. It was reconnaissance.
He leaned forward slightly, meeting Kael’s eyes. "I’ll think about it."
Kael’s smile didn’t waver. "Do that. But don’t take too long. The world moves fast, Mr. Everhart. I intend to move faster."
They sat in silence for a while longer, the hum of the city faint between them.
Finally, Kael rose, adjusting his jacket. "Enjoy your evening. You’ll hear from me soon."
Merlin stood as well, nodding faintly. "Chairman."
As Kael left, Merlin stayed by the table a few seconds longer.
The wine still glimmered faintly under the light.
He stared down at his own reflection in the glass, the reflection of a stranger pretending to belong in a story he was never supposed to enter.
’He knows something,’ he thought. ’Maybe not what I am. But something close enough to be dangerous.’
He turned, slipping his hands into his pockets as he walked back toward the elevator.
The door closed behind him, sealing away the dim amber light of the lounge.
As the elevator began its descent, Merlin’s phone buzzed.
A single message appeared on the screen.
Unknown Number:
"You shouldn’t have touched the Lazarus core."
The message vanished a second later, replaced by static.
Merlin stared at the blank screen, expression unreadable.
"...Yeah," he murmured. "I figured that part out."