Chương 16: I Traded my Kingdom for Chicken Ramen

The coffee cups were lined up like an army on the shelf, logos facing outward and handles to the right. Below, a vast variety of capsules was on display in a cascading arrangement; at the top the most intense coffee and at the bottom the least aromatic ones. It was the perfect order to complicate the life of anyone who just wanted to drink a simple coffee. Within that diversity, there was everything from Arabica and Robusta coffee to other specialties like coffee aged in deactivated railway tunnels in Koshu.

And to translate that refinement into caffeine, the Director used an ultra-quiet machine with a very distinct coating from most coffee machines in Japan; it was gold-plated, finished with some sapphires and rubies, which was probably equivalent to twelve and a half years' rent for his humble apartment.

"Sit down, Mr. Vonesdar. Let's talk." Soren pulled out the chair and placed his backpack beside him. The decor matched all the equipment and furniture in that office; the colors, varying between grays and dark browns, were never exaggerated enough for that office to become sophisticated to the point of bordering on boring. The smell of hinoki wood gave a sublime aroma to that room.

Just looking at that chair was enough to realize it was definitely much more comfortable compared to the ones he was used to sitting on every day; even that coffee machine did not seem too garish, even when inserted into the dull decoration of that office. Now seated and with his arms resting on the chair, Soren looked at the Director.

"Do you want to interrogate me, Director?"

"Not exactly, Mr. Vonesdar. What I want is to understand you; they are different things." The Director closed the door, her high heels stepping on the floor like the beating of a drum at a prisoner's execution. She walked to the desk and sat down across from him. The office, although small, had enough space to be functional, especially for someone dealing with chaotic bureaucracy.

After navigating his gaze through the various dossiers, the poorly closed folders, and the loose files in the corner of the desk, he saw a picture frame resting there between the two of them. In the photograph, a woman and a child were visible, but their faces were blurred by the reflection of the light coming from outside.

"Mr. Vonesdar, tell me exactly what I need to know about you." Soren smiled inwardly, as it was not worth bringing up the matter that had occurred earlier that morning; the hilarious failure of all those evaluation machines was in the past.

"Director, do you prefer the short or the long version?"

"I prefer the version that allows me to understand who I am dealing with," she said, with a piercing look.

"Seems fair." Soren paused briefly.

"I am a container. I already reached the maximum level many centuries ago, but through an ancient ritual, I elevated all my capabilities."

"And what exactly does that mean?" asked the Director.

"When the crown was sealed, the universe had the blessing of it not being used by the wrong hands. It was a heavy sacrifice even for max-level mages in all categories. But despite the ritual's success, my powers gained a new fluidity; they became even more refined and lethal." Soren lowered his head.

"But that came at a personal cost." The Director intertwined her fingers.

"What did it cost you, Mr. Vonesdar?"

"The crown is an entity of absolute power; in the wrong hands, it could destroy the universe." Soren sighed.

"I had to make a decision. I abandoned my kingdom and my place in history. I sought a mundane life to hide the crown. Although I love it, it also gives me the advantage of not being in a conducive environment to awaken it and develop the increase in the integration percentage with my soul." The Director leaned forward.

"What does it mean if that percentage increases, Mr. Vonesdar?" Soren closed his eyes, and when he opened them: "The percentage is the measure of how much of the crown has already merged with my existence. Right now, it remains dormant; it is an influence without consciousness." Soren's voice remained firm and clinical. Like those television journalists who manage to announce the world's greatest tragedy with the exact same diction.

"And if it reaches 100%, can you explain that to me?" This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Soren stayed silent for a moment. That was the big question that could change the entire destiny of humanity.

"I stop being me. If it reaches 100%, I will be unrecognizable, probably without control over my intentions. Then the crown will no longer be sealed, and the difference between the two of us becomes merely academic." The conversation was proving to be quite pertinent.

In contrast to their dialogue, the natural noises of the infrastructure made themselves heard in the background, like the air conditioning blowing 19 degrees of relief, hurried footsteps on the floor above, some electrical systems that clearly did not translate vitality to any equipment, and behind the door, some analysts trying to hear what was happening in that office.

"So that is why you stopped using power?" asked Tanaka.

"Yes, Director. The main part is sealed inside my chest. The crown feeds on action; immobility is the only brake I can apply to this entity, at least until the night I closed the fissure in the park across from MinouseMart." Tanaka leaned back in her chair, adjusting her arms and back. Soren could see the numerical calculations processing behind her eyes.

"When I arrived in Japan, I realized it was the ideal place to hide the crown. When I went for the job interview, Boss Yoshida liked the careful way I stocked shelves and did organized inventories. When he told me he wanted to hire me, he offered me some chicken ramen and, wow! I had never eaten anything like that in my life!" Tanaka remained silent for a while and took care to say, "Mr.

Vonesdar, even I wouldn't suspect that a convenience store employee is hiding an entity of absolute power capable of destroying the universe." Soren nodded to the Director, then leaned over to take something from his backpack. He placed a folder on the table, then opened it exactly to the page with Elian's photograph; in the middle was a receipt marking that page.

"But Director, there is one thing that worries me more right now." Soren pressed his lips together as his jaw clenched tighter.

"Is it about the Shinjuku sealing technique?" asked Tanaka.

"Did you recognize it?"

"Yes, perfectly. The technique has already been identified; I have vast knowledge of rare abilities used in different eras of universal history." When he looked at the face in the photograph, he stopped breathing for five seconds, keeping his expression blocked. Soren sighed, picked up the image, and turned it toward the Director. Tanaka reached out her hand and touched Elian's face.

"Who is she?" The Director revealed a thoughtful look as she glanced at the photo and the folder.

"I am certain that this page was not analyzed by me previously," she told him in a low voice.

"Her name is Elian Krevolian." When Soren pronounced her name, the words echoed through the corridors and the building's ducts, and behind the door even the eavesdropping analysts pulled their ears away from the door with a slight scare on their astonished faces.

"She is a container too," said Soren.

"Exactly like me, max level, and with a piece of the crown inside her. We have known each other for a long time. She was sealed in 1422, and at the time she was completely removed from reality. There's one detail: until early this morning, I was under the impression that her removal from reality had been permanent, but the technique in Shinjuku is living proof that she found a way to return."

"Tell me, Mr. Vonesdar, what level of concern should I have about this matter?" Tanaka was clearly not prepared for these types of topics, but she tried to adapt, maintaining her firm posture. Soren pondered the question, trying not to create more problems than those that had already developed.

"You see, Director, Elian was brilliant. She was absolutely convinced that the ends justified whatever means necessary to achieve what she wanted." Soren looked at Chiyoda bustling in the morning, beneath the glare of the sun reflecting off the windows of the buildings; on the other side, a salaryman was typing away at full speed on his keyboard while taking a call on his cell phone at the same time. But what could she possibly want in Japan?!

"Yes, Director, you should be very worried indeed." The tension between the two grew significantly; not even the 19 degrees could lower the tension in the room anymore.

"I haven't spoken to her in centuries, Director. Anything could happen soon." It was then that Soren stood up from his chair, for the evaluations had already ended, whether Tanaka had realized it or not.

"Director, one thing I can confirm: she is announcing herself explicitly. Elian wants something concrete, perhaps something she can only obtain if she is noticed." The Director placed a hand on her chin.

"But do you think this something involves you, Mr. Vonesdar?"

"I am absolutely sure it does, Director." Soren was still standing, looking out the window of the 49th floor; it was certainly a beautiful view for someone who did not have vertigo.

"So, what do we do?" asked the Director before he left. He looked back again at the woman who was trying to manage something far beyond her level of competence.

"We wait, Director. We observe. And when she makes her next move, we try to understand her before she makes a third. Let's gather more information."

"But, Mr. Vonesdar, that is not exactly a strategy."

"Director, believe me, for Elian, it will be the only one that works." He then looked into Tanaka's eyes again.

"She is smarter than both of us combined, Director. Planning is useless; reaction will be our best weapon." When he left the room, there were some analysts trying to come up with a topic of conversation while looking sideways at Soren; they were trying to hide what he had already noticed when he entered that room. He only stopped when he reached the elevator.

In that room, Tanaka remained observing a photograph of a woman who also contained a part of the crown, a woman who apparently had returned to reality and wanted something that was definitely neither sushi nor noodles. A woman who knew a man who was going down the WID elevator, surrounded by whispering analysts as if he were a Hollywood star.