The NovaLux meeting room looked more like a stage than a workspace. Glass walls, white marble tables, floating screens displaying real-time metrics. Aurora City stretched behind the windows like an ocean of lights, reminding everyone that success had to be visible, measurable, constant. Blake sat in one of the corners, watching the creatives debate the new emotional identity campaign for the sensory technology brand Evoke.
Maren Voss, senior creative director, dominated the conversation. Her voice was firm, almost cutting, and every sentence sounded like a verdict. Her silver hair was tied in a flawless bun, her dark suit without a wrinkle. She was the embodiment of control.
—The narrative must revolve around control —she said, without looking at anyone in particular—. Evoke doesn't sell emotions, it sells the ability to choose them.
Blake listened in silence. He had learned that in NovaLux, speaking too soon was like setting off an alarm. But something about the proposal unsettled him.
Valeria Chen sat across the table, tablet in hand, glancing at Blake from the corner of her eye. Since she had invited him to the team as a narrative architect, his presence had sparked mixed reactions. Some saw him as a fresh spark. Maren, as a threat.
Blake took a deep breath.
—What if instead of control, we talk about connection? —he finally said, in a calm tone.
Maren looked at him for the first time during the meeting. Her expression was neutral, but her eyes were sharp.
—Connection? For what purpose?
—For one that can't be bought —Blake replied—. If Evoke allows people to feel, then the story shouldn't be about choosing emotions, but about rediscovering them. What people have forgotten how to feel.
Silence fell instantly. Some team members exchanged glances. Valeria slowly lowered her tablet.
—That's interesting —she said—. The idea that Evoke doesn't sell emotions, but emotional memories. Fragments of who we once were.
Maren narrowed her eyes.
—That sounds poetic. But not sellable.
—What if it is precisely because of that? —Blake insisted—. People don't want more control. They want to feel something real again. Even if it's artificial.
The screens seemed to hum with tension. The team stayed silent. Valeria smiled faintly. Maren closed her folder with a sharp snap.
—Let's move on with the agenda.
During the following days, Blake worked with two young designers on an alternative proposal. Instead of showing users controlling emotions through an interface, they created a sequence where an elderly woman used Evoke to remember what it felt like to dance in the rain with her late husband.
The scene was simple. No dialogue. Just music, soft lights, and an expression slowly shifting from melancholy to joy.
When they presented the prototype, the silence was different. Not awkward. Reverent.
One of the executives stood up.
—This… this is what Evoke should be.
Maren said nothing. She just watched the screen, arms crossed.
After the presentation, Blake was called to a private meeting with her.
The room was empty, windowless. Just a table, two chairs, and a white light that felt more like an interrogation than a conversation.
Maren was already seated, a folder in hand.
—Your proposal was approved —she said bluntly—. The team will present it at the investors' gala.
Blake nodded but stayed silent.
—I don't like it —she added—. But it works. And that's what matters.
Blake sat across from her.
—Why don't you like it?
Maren stared at him.
—Because it's not mine.
The silence grew heavy.
—Is that what matters? —Blake asked—. Who proposes it?
—When you've spent years building something, yes —she replied—. Every idea is an extension of your reputation. And you… you appeared out of nowhere. With pretty words and a smile.
Blake leaned forward.
—I didn't come to take anything from you, Maren. I came because Valeria believed I could add something. And because I want this to work, too.
Maren lowered her gaze for the first time.
—Do you know what it's like to watch someone else connect with your team faster than you? To see your ideas questioned by someone with no track record?
Blake didn't answer. He just watched her.
—It's not that I dislike your proposal —she finally said—. It's that it reminds me I'm no longer the only one who can have them.
At that moment, the door opened. Valeria walked in, as if she had sensed she needed to.
—Everything okay here?
Maren straightened.
—Yes. Just clarifying roles.
Valeria looked at them both.
—There are no fixed roles in a good idea. Only paths that cross.
Blake smiled. Maren didn't.
—The gala is in three days —she said—. I hope your narrative works in front of the investors. Because if it doesn't, it'll be your reputation that breaks.
Blake stood up.
—Then I'll make it work.
The days leading up to the gala were intense. Blake worked with editors, musicians, designers. His vision became the heart of the project, and although some still saw him as "the new guy," his influence was undeniable.
Valeria supported him but kept her distance. She knew any sign of favoritism could worsen the tension with Maren.
One night, while reviewing the final version of the video, Valeria approached.
—You okay?
Blake nodded.
—Just thinking about what Maren said. About reputation.
Valeria sat beside him.
—She built NovaLux from scratch. Her name is on every campaign. It's normal for her to feel displaced.
—And you? —Blake asked—. Aren't you worried I might overshadow you too?
Valeria looked at him calmly.
—If someone overshadows me with authenticity, it doesn't bother me. What bothers me is when they do it with masks.
Blake watched her silently.
—Do I wear a mask?
—No. But sometimes you hide behind your system. Even when you don't need to.
Blake lowered his gaze.
—It's hard to know when it's me… and when it's what the system taught me to be.
Valeria briefly touched his hand.
—Maybe the answer lies in what you do when the system says nothing.
The night of the gala arrived.
The SkyLounge was full of executives, investors, celebrities. Giant screens showed campaign previews, crystal glasses shimmered under golden lights. The air was charged with expectation.
Blake stepped onto the stage with Valeria and Maren. The presentation began.
The video played in silence. The elderly woman, the rain, the music. When it ended, the applause wasn't immediate—but it was deep.
One of the investors approached.
—This… this is what Evoke needs. Real emotion. Not control.
Maren smiled faintly. Valeria looked at him with pride. Blake felt the air grow lighter.
Hours later, Blake stepped out onto the SkyLounge balcony. Aurora City shimmered like an ocean of lights. The noise of the party faded behind the glass doors, a distant echo.
Maren approached, holding a glass.
—You did it —she said.
Blake nodded.
—We did it.
She looked at him with a softer expression.
—I don't like losing. But tonight… wasn't a loss.
Blake smiled.
—Sometimes winning isn't about being right. It's about making something work.
Maren raised her glass.
—To that.
Valeria appeared behind them.
—Drinking without me?
Blake looked at her.
—To leadership, authenticity… and the cost of being right.
Valeria raised her glass too.
The SkyLounge balcony was almost empty. The music and laughter remained behind, muffled by the glass doors. Blake breathed the cold night air, watching as Aurora City stretched like an endless ocean of light.
Valeria approached quietly, holding a glass in her hand. For a few seconds, neither spoke. They simply looked at the city, as if both were searching in it for an answer that couldn't be found in numbers or metrics.
—You know what impresses me? —she finally said—. That you managed to make everyone fall silent. Not with shouting, not with statistics. With a story.
Blake smiled faintly.
—Stories are all we have left when everything else becomes data.
Valeria glanced sideways at him.
—That's what Maren fears. That data won't be enough anymore.
Blake lowered his gaze.
—I don't want to be her enemy.
—You're not —Valeria replied—. But for someone like her, every new voice sounds like a threat.
Silence returned, but it was different now. More intimate.
—And you? —Blake asked—. What does all this mean to you?
Valeria rested her glass on the railing.
—It means success isn't always victory. Sometimes it's a cost. And tonight, even though we won, I know someone lost something.
Blake understood. She wasn't talking about investors or metrics. She was talking about Maren.
Later, when the gala ended, Maren approached Blake. Her expression was less severe, though still unreadable.
—Your idea worked —she said bluntly.
Blake nodded.
—Our idea.
Maren watched him for a few seconds, as if judging whether his response was sincere or strategic. Finally, she nodded slightly.
—Maybe we can work together. Maybe.
It wasn't full recognition, but it was a start.
Back in his apartment, Blake collapsed onto the couch. The city still glimmered outside, indifferent to his victories and defeats. He activated the interface.
The system appeared, its usual cyan glow filling the room. But this time, the message wasn't a mission or a reward. It was something else.
[New system message:]
"When a story becomes truth, it no longer belongs to you.
When truth becomes power, it ceases to be innocent.
And when power turns into silence… someone else learns to speak for you."
Blake frowned. The text vanished before he could analyze it.
He stared at the window, feeling as though the city was watching him back.
The system was changing. And the most unsettling part wasn't that it spoke differently.
It was that it seemed to be learning from him.
End of Chapter 9