Elara officially submitted her resignation to the Ministry of Culture, declining the Chief Curator position and the veiled role of governmental accomplice. The act was both terrifying and liberating. She left the Bibliothèque Nationale, not through the grand, public entrance, but via a service door she had known since she was an assistant—a curator of the past choosing a future in the shadows.
She carried almost nothing: the clothes on her back, her father's silver letter opener, and, most importantly, the two antique keys, now her sole inheritance and burden. She could not risk leaving them in the hands of the state, nor could she risk the government selling them to the next secret society.
Her first act was to take the keys to the only safe house she truly trusted: Jules Reynard's chaotic apartment.
Jules, who had been cleared by the police after the interrogation and released with a sensational exclusive interview, greeted her with a rare, genuine smile. His apartment, once a symbol of his scattered professional life, now felt like a bastion of defiant truth.
"They are calling you the 'Hero Curator' in the afternoon editions," Jules said, handing her a cup of strong, black coffee. "A shame you won't be able to enjoy the prestige."
"Prestige is a nice tombstone, Jules," Elara replied, placing the keys on his messy desk. "The truth is better. Dubois may be neutralized, but the Regulator is still a danger, and the Society is not dead."
Elara explained her decision: she needed to establish a permanent, untraceable system for monitoring the Regulator and the lingering remnants of the Argentum Society. She required access to information, global contacts, and a healthy dose of cynical paranoia—things Jules possessed in abundance.
"I can't use museum resources, and I can't trust the government's official reports," Elara explained. "I need a partnership. I need eyes outside the institutions. I need a front."
Jules leaned back in his chair, his eyes bright. "You want to run a black-market intelligence agency out of a journalist's flat, using the cover of a sensational investigative column?"
"Precisely," Elara confirmed. "You get the headlines and the money to sustain us. I get the quiet room, the access to obscure historical records via your research requests, and the early warning if the Society tries to reorganize or if the Regulator is moved."
Jules didn't hesitate. He was tired of writing about corruption; he wanted to stop it. He formalized their agreement with a playful, theatrical flourish. "Welcome to the unofficial, unsanctioned, and probably very illegal Vance's Watch. Our mission: To monitor the balance between Eternity and Loss."
Their first task was visiting Professor Laurent. He had been released from the hospital and was convalescing at a private, secluded apartment. He was severely weakened, but his mind remained sharp.
Laurent received the news of their partnership with a look of immense satisfaction.
"I was worried you would accept their gilded cage, Elara. But you have learned the lesson of the Broken Circle Key well," Laurent said, taking her hand. "You need more than just a journalist, though. You need an academic firewall."
Laurent revealed that before his capture, he had already begun secretly auditing the Ministry of Culture's protocols for handling sensitive archives. He knew the weaknesses of the official system and the loopholes in the cover-up.
"They will classify the Regulator as a strongbox, and the keys as evidence, separating them into two secure but distinct locations," Laurent explained. "I can quietly monitor the archives and the Ministry's budget, giving us an early warning if anyone tries to access the keys or move the Regulator."
"You would risk your fragile health?" Elara asked.
"My dear Elara, after being tortured by my own director, risking a bureaucratic audit is child's play," he smiled. "You have the field operation, Jules has the media operation, and I will be your Archival Watchman. We will ensure that Dubois's failure remains permanent."
The three disparate allies—the meticulous Curator, the cynical Journalist, and the wise Professor—formed their quiet, unofficial pact in the heart of Paris, dedicating their lives to guarding the truth the world refused to acknowledge. The Argentum Society was defeated, but the Vance's Watch was born.