POV: Aurora
The email arrives early, before my first coffee.
"Subject: Primary Contact Confirmation – Noir Tower."
I open the attachment. It's a copy of the form I signed yesterday on the fortieth floor. My name is at the top. Further down:
"Designated Primary Contact: Dante Noir."
I read the clause:
"In the event of medical or safety incidents affecting the integrity of the employee within Noir Tower, immediate decisions may be channeled through the designated primary contact."
Short translation: if something happens to me in here, the tower calls Dante first and follows his orders.
I lean back in my chair. I feel a tug in my stomach. Part relief, part unease.
Relief, because I prefer him to decide rather than a stranger. Unease, because I have just signed that, in a crisis, my body comes before mine.
I close the email.
On the thirty-first floor, the sound of keys and the smell of reheated coffee pretend that everything is the same.
Lina leaves a cup on my desk.
"You look like you're about to be audited," she says.
"Something like that," I reply.
I hand her the phone with the email open. She reads it and frowns.
"Primary contact... Dante Noir..." she murmurs. "Did you sign this?"
"Yes." Yesterday, on the fortieth floor, I say. "It's so that if something happens to me in the tower, he'll be the first to know and make decisions."
Lina puts the phone down on the table.
"I was never offered this," she says. "And I've been here for years."
"Never?" I ask.
"They gave me rules and a safety briefing," she replies. "I've seen this paper given to people involved in sensitive matters. Or when the higher-ups are nervous."
"I'm in Seraphim," I remind her.
"Yes, but Seraphim has more people," she says. "And not everyone goes up to the fortieth floor to sign that the supreme boss will decide what to do if they faint in the bathroom."
She says it simply, and it hits home.
"Do you think it's wrong?" I ask.
She thinks about it.
"I think it's strange," she replies. "And when something is strange, it's best to keep your eyes open," she adds. "Maybe it is protection. Maybe it's also a way of knowing exactly where you are on their board."
"Their board."
I put my phone in the drawer.
I open Seraphim. Numbers, dates, amounts. I immerse myself in it for a while. At least there I understand the rules.
Mid-morning, I have to drop off some documents on another floor.
I grab the folder and walk toward the elevators. The hallway smells like coffee.
I call the elevator. The doors open; it's empty. I get in and press the number. They almost close when an arm gets in the way.
Someone gets in.
I recognize him instantly.
Perfect suit, dark tie, fair skin, easy smile. It's the guy from the elevator, the one from the other time. The one I thought looked like a vampire from an expensive ad.
"Thank you," he says, as if I had stopped the door.
He stands next to me. He leaves space, but his presence fills the cabin.
The elevator goes up. The air changes. I smell his expensive, clean perfume, and underneath it, a metallic note I can't name. My skin prickles, my heart races.
He looks at the panel. Then he looks at me.
"We meet again," he says. "Aurora, right?"
I'm surprised he knows my name.
"Yes," I reply. "And... I'm sorry, I don't remember yours."
"Elias," he replies. "Elias Valcourt."
Valcourt.
That surname appears in the news, in Seraphim reports, in important emails.
"I work with the foundation that supports your project," he adds.
I come and go from the tower more often than is healthy.
His tone is light, but I feel like he weighs every word.
"Nice to meet you," I say.
"The pleasure is mine," he replies.
His eyes linger on me for a second too long. They don't look at my clothes or my badge. They look at me as if evaluating something I can't see.
"Dante speaks highly of you," he comments.
I blink.
"He talks about me?" I ask.
"He says you're quick, that you see things in Seraphim that others overlook," he replies. "That's saying a lot. He's not one to give compliments."
It makes me uncomfortable and my face flushes.
"I'm just doing my job," I reply.
"Sure," he says, smiling. "Just your job."
The elevator passes another floor. Elias tilts his head slightly.
"The tower changed when you arrived," he says. "You can feel it in the air."
The phrase hits me. I don't know if he's talking about my position or my body.
"Did I change something by checking numbers?" I ask, trying to sound neutral.
"By existing where you weren't before," he replies. "Nova Lyra is sensitive to new pieces."
His words seem like a comment, but his gaze does not.
"I guess I was lucky with the scholarship," I say.
"Luck always has an owner," he replies. "Sometimes it comes in the form of a signed form on a high floor."
I feel a lump in my throat.
I think of this morning's PDF. "Primary contact: Dante Noir."
"Do you read many forms, Mr. Valcourt?" I ask.
"Enough," he says. "And even if I didn't read them, anyone with a nose for it can tell when someone already has a name on them."
The elevator stops at his floor.
Before getting out, he turns around.
"A free piece of advice, Aurora," he says. Always ask what's behind the word 'protection'. Sometimes it's a hug. Sometimes it's a cage."
His eyes meet mine for a second, then he disappears into the hallway.
The doors close.
I'm left alone with the scent of his perfume and my head full of thoughts.
"Name on it." "High-rise form." "Protection."
When the elevator stops at my floor, I rush out.
I walk to my cubicle. Lina looks at me.
"Level two audit face," she says. "What happened now?"
"I ran into someone from the foundation," I reply. "And he talked too much in too little time."
I turn on the screen. Seraphim opens.
Until yesterday, I thought only Dante and the doctor knew that something in me was moving at a different speed.
After this elevator ride, it's clear to me that there are more watchful eyes.
And for the first time, the primary contact form doesn't seem like an exaggeration.
It seems like a silent warning above my head:
"If you don't take care of yourself, someone else is going to write their name above yours."