Publicity did not arrive as truth.
It arrived as distortion.
The first reports surfaced twelve hours after the anchor stabilized. They came wrapped in careful language—anomalous energy signatures, instrument error, rare atmospheric resonance. Scientists on late-night panels spoke with forced calm, hands clasped too tightly, eyes flicking toward off-camera producers.
Kaito watched from the safehouse, arms folded, a cup of untouched coffee cooling on the table.
"They're afraid," he said.
"Yes," Aya replied. "But fear alone does not generate narrative. Uncertainty does."
The uncertainty spread quickly.
A graduate student in Chile posted raw telescope data showing a transient distortion that didn't match any known phenomenon. A retired radar technician uploaded screenshots from a decommissioned array that had spiked at the exact same timestamp. The posts were deleted within minutes.
Screenshots remained.
Then came the commentators.
Some called it a hoax. Others claimed experimental weapons tests. A fringe group insisted it was extraterrestrial contact. None of them were correct.
All of them were loud.
Mina arrived just before noon, her tablet already filled with clipped headlines and trending graphs.
"We've lost the quiet window," she said without preamble.
"How bad?" Kaito asked.
"Bad enough that three governments have requested emergency briefings," Mina replied. "Worse enough that markets are reacting emotionally."
Aya projected a chart. Energy futures dipped sharply, rebounded, then dipped again. Manufacturing stocks showed erratic behavior, as if investors sensed disruption but couldn't locate its source.
"They don't know what happened," Kaito said.
"They know something happened," Mina corrected. "And that someone is hiding it."
Liang joined them remotely, his face pale on the screen.
"I just got off a call with a former colleague," he said. "He's now advising a defense ministry. He didn't ask questions. He asked timelines."
"That's fast," Kaito muttered.
"Faster than honest science," Liang replied. "Slower than panic."
The pressure mounted throughout the day.
Requests for interviews flooded Mina's channels—polite, persistent, impossible to ignore. A major tech outlet published a speculative piece linking the earlier generator video to the recent anomalies.
The headline was careful.
FROM CLEAN ENERGY TO CLEANER SECRETS?
Kaito felt a familiar knot tighten in his chest.
"They're circling," he said.
"Yes," Aya agreed. "Public curiosity is being weaponized to force disclosure."
"Can we stop it?"
Aya paused. "Not completely. Suppression increases suspicion."
Mina sighed. "Then we control the bleed."
They chose a leak.
Not the truth—but a version of it.
A controlled briefing was arranged with a respected scientific journal, one known for caution rather than spectacle. The information released was narrow: confirmation of a novel energy-storage phenomenon, acknowledgment of unexplained spatial readings, firm denial of weaponization.
No mention of Arcadia.
No mention of anchors.
No mention of worlds.
The response was immediate.
Scientists argued fiercely but constructively. Governments issued bland statements of reassurance. Markets stabilized—temporarily.
"It bought us time," Mina said that evening. "Not safety."
Kaito nodded. "How long?"
Mina didn't answer immediately. "Days," she said finally. "Maybe weeks."
That night, Kaito stood alone on the balcony, city lights stretching endlessly below. He felt the anchor then—not physically, but conceptually. A constant, subtle awareness, like knowing where north was without looking.
Aya joined him.
"You are now a public variable," she said.
"I never wanted that," Kaito replied.
"Desire is not a prerequisite for influence," Aya said. "Only position."
Kaito exhaled slowly. "What happens next?"
Aya looked out over the city. "Next, they will ask for certainty."
"And if we don't give it?"
"Then they will attempt to create it themselves."
The disk chimed softly behind them.
DAY 011 — SIGN-IN COMPLETE
No reward appeared.
But something else did.
A subtle shift in the interface, barely noticeable, as if the system itself were adjusting its posture.
Publicity had begun.
And with it, the slow, inevitable erosion of secrecy.
Kaito closed his eyes, listening to the city breathe.
Between worlds, between narratives, between fear and hope, he stood at the center of a widening storm.
And the world was finally starting to say his name.