The city woke before dawn. Not because alarms rang. Not because people had work.
Because history was waiting.
Across the capital, lights appeared in apartment windows long before sunrise. Families gathered around televisions. Cafés opened hours early. Streets slowly filled with citizens carrying flags, banners, and cameras.
Today was inauguration day.
The day Sebastian Ravenscroft would become President. Officially. Legally.
Irreversibly.
Yet inside the secure residence where he had spent the night, the atmosphere felt strangely ordinary.
Sebastian stood in the kitchen wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms. He was making toast.
Badly. Very badly.
Vivian walked in and stared.
"What happened?"
Sebastian looked down. The toast was black. Completely black."I may have been distracted." "You burned bread."
"It was a strategic error."
Vivian laughed.
The sound immediately eased something inside him.
