On the way to the penthouse, Adrian didn't speak during the entire ride.
The vehicle's screens projected streams of data that failed to anchor him to reality.
Six hours.
Confirmed by three different sources.Cameras. Satellite logs. The building's atomic clock.
Six hours.
Six months in Eldoria.
One month for every hour.
He felt something close to vertigo.
It wasn't relief.
It was disorientation.
He had buried men.He had slept on stone.He had felt the weight of hunger, of blood, of the brutal responsibility of staying alive.
And here…
Traffic moved as usual.The news talked about the economy.The world hadn't noticed his absence.
The private elevator opened directly into the penthouse.
Silence.
Dim lighting.The familiar scent of jasmine tea.
And there she was.
Meilan.
Awake. Sitting by the window. Her hair falling over one shoulder. Calm.
As if nothing had happened.
Adrian stopped in the doorway.
He looked at her the way one looks at a vision.
Like someone returning from death and discovering the world kept breathing without him.
Meilan noticed something in his expression.Something heavier. Darker.
"What happened?" she asked, with that quiet calm of hers that always seemed to see more than she said.
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
How do you explain half a year of survival to someone for whom only a few hours passed?
How do you explain the feeling of having aged when the calendar says otherwise?
He closed the distance between them.
Not fast.Not violently.
But with certainty.
He knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands.
Not with desire.
With urgency.
As if he needed to confirm she was real.That she was warm.That she was alive.
His thumbs brushed her skin with restrained intensity.
Meilan frowned slightly.
"Adrian…"
There was a question in her voice.
He rested his forehead against hers.
He breathed.
For the first time since returning, he truly breathed.
"I thought I wouldn't come back."
The confession came out low. Raw.
She didn't understand the context.
But she understood the tremor.
Her hands moved up to his wrists.
Not to push him away.
To hold him.
"I'm here," she said.
Simple.
Enough.
And then he embraced her.
Not like a man claiming something.
Like a survivor holding on.
His body sought hers not out of lust, but from the need to anchor himself to the present.
To remind himself he was still human.
Meilan noticed the difference.
This wasn't the dominant Adrian.
This wasn't the strategist.
This was someone who had seen something he couldn't name.
"Tell me what happened," she whispered against his hair.
He closed his eyes.
He couldn't explain it.
Because for her, nothing had happened.
But the way he touched her changed.
Firmer.
More real.
As if every inch of her skin were proof that the world hadn't swallowed him whole.
And in that contact there was no pornography.
There was trauma seeking refuge.
There was a man who had returned from six months of darkness…
and needed to make sure he still had something to lose.
Meilan held him while he clung to her with that unusual intensity.
Something was different.
The night before had been intense—more than usual, even for him.
And now, if he kept looking at her like that… if he kept touching her with that urgency that seemed to come from some invisible abyss…
He might need help.
A spark of irony crossed her mind.
Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea if Astrid and the others were nearby to "collaborate" in such a task.
The thought didn't bother her.
It amused her.
But that faint smile faded almost immediately.
Because what Adrian was doing now wasn't desire.
It wasn't hunger.
It was something deeper.
Darker.
He was holding her like someone who had just returned from a place where she didn't exist.
And that…
That unsettled her.
Return to Valenheim
The convoy passed through the gates of the Valmont estate.
Wrought iron.Invisible sensors.Expensive silence.
Adrian stepped out first.
Nara descended afterward, helping her grandmother with a gentleness that didn't match her usual strategic coldness.
Meilan noticed the gesture.
She said nothing.
That was worse.
Nara's grandmother examined the mansion's façade with a critical gaze, like someone evaluating a painting before raising a paddle at an auction.
"Too modern," she murmured. "Too much glass. Not enough spirit."
Adrian inclined his head slightly.
"Spirit is installed after buying the land."
The old woman smiled.
Point for him.
Not for Meilan.
They entered.
The staff were already lined up. Luggage removed in silence. Tea served before being requested.
When the grandmother was escorted to her quarters, the air changed.
Three remained.
Nara withdrew with studied elegance.
"I should make sure my grandmother is comfortable."
A lie.
She was clearing the field.
Silence.
Meilan didn't cross her arms this time.
She walked straight toward him.
"Since when are you so interested in grandmothers?" she asked.
"Since they come with geopolitical influence."
"Don't be clever."
Her tone was no longer diplomatic.
Adrian began removing his gloves.
"I'm simply polite."
"You're never 'simply' anything."
One step closer.
He lowered his gaze slightly—
Just as she stepped forward.
And then—
Tap.
Meilan's heel came down precisely on Adrian's shoe.
Not accidental.
Not hard.
Enough.
Enough to mark.
Adrian looked at her.
One eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Was that necessary?"
"Yes."
She didn't move.
Didn't remove her foot.
She kept it there another second.
"That woman was measuring you."
"They often do."
"And you were enjoying it."
Silence.
There was the crack.
Small.
Invisible to anyone who didn't know him.
But Meilan saw it.
Her eyes darkened.
"I don't like sharing territory."
Adrian calmly pulled his foot away.
"You're not territory."
She stepped closer.
The space between them disappeared.
"No. I'm the owner."
Her fingers grabbed the lapel of his jacket.
More firmly this time.
"And when another woman evaluates you like you're available…"
She tightened her grip.
"I decide if you are."
Adrian held her gaze.
He didn't smile.
But his pulse changed.
One second.
Brief.
She noticed.
And it ignited her further.
"Don't look at another woman like she's an interesting challenge."
"Meilan—"
"No."
She cut him off.
Her hand moved up to his tie.
She twisted it.
"I'm not a stock you can hold while exploring the market."
"I never diversify strategic risks."
"Stop talking like this is a board meeting."
Her heel pressed lightly against his shoe again.
Repeated warning.
"I don't compete."
"You have no competition."
"Then say it without calculating it."
Silence.
She leaned closer.
Her voice dropped, more intense.
"Say it like a man.
Not like a CEO."
Adrian looked at her.
This time he didn't answer immediately.
Not out of strategy.
Because he was choosing his words.
That was new.
"I choose you," he said finally.
But she wasn't satisfied.
"That's not enough."
She kissed him.
Not soft.
Not sweet.
Possessive.
Short, firm, marked.
When she pulled away, she didn't step back.
Her forehead nearly touching his.
"If anyone else tries to evaluate you…"
Her thumb slid along his jawline.
"I'll remember that I was the first to claim you."
Adrian placed his hands on either side of her.
Not to trap her.
To steady the balance she was tilting.
"I don't compete for attention," he said quietly. "I deserve it."
She smiled.
Slow.
Dangerous.
"Then stay worthy of me."
She released his tie.
Smoothed it.
But before stepping away, her fingers slid down his chest.
One more second.
Claiming.
Then she stepped back.
Control restored.
"Remember something, Adrian."
She turned toward the door.
"I don't chase."
Pause.
"I mark."
And she left.
Adrian remained alone.
His tie crooked.
His shoe slightly scuffed by the pressure of her heel.
And for the first time in a long while,
a reaction that hadn't been entirely strategic.
Six Weeks Later
Ling Feng was no longer smiling.
The report lay on the table.
Premium exports: –12%New foreign licenses: 0Projected tech investment: frozen
It wasn't a collapse.
It was worse.
It was indifference.
"Did Valmont release any statement?" he asked.
"None, sir."
"Did they withdraw capital?"
"They only redirected operations to the Water Country."
Ling Feng frowned.
That hadn't happened in the previous timeline.
Before, Valmont had resisted.Pressed.Negotiated.
Reacted.
This time…
It did nothing.
And that absence weighed more than any counterattack.
Three months.
The mines were still producing.
But premium buyers weren't competing.
The international market wasn't absorbing the expected volume.
Banks began adjusting risk evaluations.
The Minister of Economy called him "to review numbers."
That hadn't happened before either.
Ling Feng reviewed the projections for the third time.
The variable wasn't the mine.
It was the network.
Distribution.Certification.Private auctions in Europe.Luxury houses.Invisible contacts.
Valmont didn't need the stone.
Valmont needed the story of the stone.
And stories aren't extracted with machinery.
Then the article appeared.
An international financial outlet suggested that the Fire Country's fiscal tightening coincided "curiously" with personal tensions between diplomat Ling Feng and businesswoman Meilan.
Adrian's name appeared only once.
Enough.
Ling Feng crumpled the newspaper.
Jealousy?
Were they reducing it to that?
He had protected the country.Anticipated the market cycle.Secured the strategic resource before the boom.
He wasn't emotional.He wasn't impulsive.He wasn't—
His phone vibrated.
A message from an advisor:
"Some local mining companies are requesting subsidies. They say European buyers aren't accepting the new prices."
Ling Feng closed his eyes for a moment.
In his previous life, prices had risen.
They rose because there was real scarcity.
But now…
Valmont had reduced global production.
It had turned scarcity into something organic.
Without attacking.Without threatening.Without negotiating.
Just stepping back half a step.
As if the Fire Country weren't an enemy.
Just a less efficient option.
That was worse.
Because he wasn't fighting a villain.
He was fighting someone who didn't need to fight.
That night Ling Feng watched the city from his office.
The industrial lights of the refineries glowed in the distance.
In the previous timeline, this had been the turning point.
The moment control of the resource made him a key international figure.
But something was different.
Adrian didn't play for pride.
He played for portfolio.
And for the first time, Ling Feng felt a crack in his certainty.
Knowing the future meant nothing if the other player changed the tempo.
What if he isn't trying to defeat me?
What if he's simply waiting for me to wear myself out?
The regressor hero always has a clear antagonist.
But in this life…
Maybe the antagonist wasn't Adrian.
Maybe it was the system he believed he understood.
Ling Feng opened another report.
Adjusted projections.Moderate political pressure.Risk of negative narrative in foreign media.
Nothing fatal.
But nothing glorious either.
And the regressor hero hadn't returned to be…
moderately successful.
He clenched his jaw.
Fine.
If Adrian wasn't going to react…
He would force him to.
Penthouse – Floor 90
On the 90th floor, the dimness of the penthouse was broken only by the distant flicker of city lights filtering through the vast window.
Adrian was still on top of Meilan, their bodies sweaty and exhausted, still joined.
Every thrust had been an act of conquest.Every movement deep and relentless, searching for a limit she herself hadn't known she possessed.
Her moans weren't just reactions—they were a dialogue of skin and breath.
Each sound rose sharp from the violent friction, confirmation that she was there, that in that moment she was his.
There was no room for thought.
Only the overwhelming sensation of being filled, of her body stretching to accommodate him, stretching almost to pain—pain that transformed into a pleasure so intense it was almost frightening.
The frantic rhythm had finally slowed.
But the air remained dense.
Heavy with the echo of her moans and his ragged breathing.
Adrian's desire, finally satisfied, had faded, leaving behind a quiet, heavy weight.
Now, in the silence that followed, his body resting over hers was the tangible proof of the storm that had passed.
The room smelled of sweat, sex, and the faint trace of her perfume—now completely ruined.
Adrian listened to Meilan's still uneven breathing while they remained wrapped together, as if neither wanted to release the world they had shut outside.
The emptiness was as deep as the ecstasy that had consumed them minutes before.
Without fully separating from her, he reached toward the nightstand.
With a clumsy movement he grabbed the remote control.
A click turned on the flat screen across from the bed, flooding the room with a cold blue light.
The news began to scroll across the screen.
At first without sound.
A tide of serious faces and urgent headlines.
Adrian wasn't watching the screen.
His distant gaze focused instead on the reflection of the broadcast in the glass of the window.
International News – Fire Country (Live Broadcast)
Anchor:
"Good afternoon. We interrupt our regular programming to report on a developing situation in the Fire Country.
Since early this morning, workers from the mining sector have begun coordinated blockades in front of the Ministry of Natural Resources and along access routes to several strategic mines.
What began as isolated demonstrations has now evolved into a strike affecting three of the country's most important gemstone extraction complexes."
Field Correspondent:
"That's correct, Mariana. We are currently outside the Suyin mine, considered one of the pillars of the regional economy.
Behind me you can see heavy machinery blocking the main entrance and hundreds of workers gathered under banners demanding 'fair wages' and 'protection against the collapse of the international market.'
Union leaders claim that the decline in foreign buyers and falling prices in the global jewelry market have directly affected their bonuses and contract renewals.
Several workers told us they feel the country is absorbing the losses while large international intermediaries continue to maintain their profit margins.
The atmosphere remains tense, though still contained.
However, the declaration of an indefinite strike marks a clear turning point."
Anchor:
"The government has responded with an official statement assuring that modernization of the sector and the strengthening of certification and traceability systems will continue despite the current market contraction.
The Minister of Economy has called emergency meetings with mining sector representatives, financial advisors, and foreign trade specialists.
According to the statement, temporary support measures are being evaluated to prevent a prolonged halt in production."
Field Correspondent:
"Mariana, in the last few hours local banks have begun reviewing credit lines linked to the extractive industry, while some foreign investors are closely monitoring the situation.
Analysts consulted say this is not yet a structural collapse.
However, they warn that a prolonged combination of labor blockades, social pressure, and external uncertainty could impact the country's economic stability in the short term.
Here among the workers, the sentiment is clear:
this is not just a wage protest.
It's a warning."
Anchor:
"We will continue to monitor developments as negotiations unfold.
The Fire Country faces a decisive moment, where economic pressure, political tension, and social unrest are converging at a single point.
We will keep you informed."