Morning sunlight spilled over the Weiss villa like a gentle blessing, but Stefan felt the shift before he even opened his eyes.
A subtle wrongness.
A pressure in the air—not dangerous, but present. Like the faint tremor of an orchestra tuning before a performance, knowing the conductor would soon raise the baton.
He sat up slowly, listening.
Footsteps in the corridor. Two—no, three voices—whispering. A door opening quietly somewhere downstairs. The staff moved differently today, more alert, more careful.
Something had changed.
Stefan dressed quickly and stepped into the hallway just as Heinrich, the family's head butler, turned the corner.
"Good morning, young master," Heinrich said with his usual polish—but his posture was tighter than normal.
"What happened?" Stefan asked.
Heinrich hesitated a fraction of a second. Not enough for most people to notice.
But more than enough for Stefan.
"There was a visitor at dawn," Heinrich said. "A courier from the security agency. He brought an updated briefing for your grandfathers."
"An urgent one?"
"Yes."
Stefan nodded. Heinrich inclined his head respectfully and continued on, but the boy's mind was already assembling the first pieces.
Switzerland.
This had the scent of Zurich.
By the time he entered the dining hall, Fabio, Vittorio, and Gianluca were already seated. They paused mid-conversation the moment he stepped inside—not rudely, but with the quiet instinct of men involved in subtle battles.
"Good morning, Stefan," Fabio greeted warmly. "Sleep well?"
"Well enough," Stefan replied, taking his seat. "What happened this morning?"
None of them feigned ignorance. They never underestimated him, and he appreciated that.
Gianluca poured himself coffee, voice calm but eyes sharp. "It seems Zurich has decided to stir the pot."
"Subtly," Vittorio added. "As they usually do when they want to be noticed without admitting they want to be noticed."
Stefan frowned. "Is this about Sutter?"
Fabio sighed softly. "It seems the Swiss finance minister is… expanding his interests. Quietly pressuring multinationals that operate near our networks. Harmless for now, but annoying."
"It's a test," Stefan murmured.
Three pairs of eyes turned to him.
"What do you mean?" Fabio asked.
"Switzerland never moves first unless it wants to measure the ground beneath its feet," Stefan said. "Someone is checking how stable our influence is. Or maybe… how important I am."
A brief silence followed.
Vittorio leaned back, expression thoughtful. "You think Sutter is probing for weaknesses?"
Stefan nodded once. "Or for opportunities."
The grandfathers exchanged glances—warriors recognizing the start of a distant skirmish.
Fabio gave a soft, rueful chuckle. "We always expected this moment would come eventually."
Stefan picked up his fork. "Eventually doesn't usually arrive at dawn."
The International Lyceum felt different the moment Stefan stepped onto the grounds.
Students stood in tighter clusters. Conversations paused when he passed. A subtle shift in the wind of adolescent alliances.
Julien met him at the entrance with a croissant in one hand and a newspaper in the other.
"Catastrophe!" he announced dramatically.
Stefan blinked. "Already?"
Julien shoved the newspaper in his face. "Economy section. Look at the Swiss franc. It's spiking for no reason! Absolutely suspicious!"
Stefan scanned the article. The spike was small—too small for the average reader to care. But meaningful to someone with a trained eye.
Lucas appeared a moment later, hands in his pockets, expression serious.
"People are talking," Lucas murmured. "Mostly the older kids. Their parents are asking questions."
"Elena says Zurich is testing the waters," Julien whispered. "Which means politics is going to infect our school again."
"The school was always political," Lucas replied. "Today it's just… obvious."
Stefan watched the courtyard quietly.
Students who normally ignored each other were whispering. A pair of French boys looked at him, then quickly looked away. A Swiss student—Marc Reiner—held Stefan's gaze a second too long, expression unreadable.
Stefan exhaled slowly.
The ripples had begun.
And ripples, if left alone, became waves.
History class was the first real sign something had shifted.
Professor Müller spoke about post-war European diplomacy, but half the students weren't listening—they were watching each other instead.
Halfway through the lesson, Marc Reiner raised his hand.
"Professor," Marc said loudly, "isn't it true that nations only maintain alliances when they feel threatened? That stability is just a temporary illusion?"
The professor blinked. "…That is an oversimplification."
Marc tapped his pen. "But sometimes illusions break. Especially when one side gets too involved in… foreign matters."
Stefan didn't miss the sideways glance Marc threw him.
Julien's jaw dropped. Lucas muttered, "Oh, that was definitely directed at you."
Stefan remained still. Silent observation was often more powerful than emotional reaction.
Professor Müller cleared his throat. "This is not a political debate hall, Mr. Reiner. We are discussing history, not contemporary speculation."
"But history repeats," Marc replied, smiling thinly.
And then he turned away.
Stefan wrote a single word in his notebook:
Sutter.
Because that boy didn't speak without being told to.
After school, Stefan headed toward the exit where the family car always waited. The winter wind was sharp, carrying the scent of exhaust, cold air, and damp leaves.
He had almost reached the gates when someone tapped his shoulder.
He turned.
A boy he vaguely recognized—short brown hair, nervous eyes, someone from the lower classes. No political connections. No confidence either.
"Are you… Stefan Weiss?" the boy asked quietly.
"Yes."
The kid swallowed hard. "Someone asked me to give you this."
He extended a small envelope—white, unmarked, sealed with no crest or symbol.
Stefan took it carefully. "Who gave it to you?"
"I—I don't know his name," the boy whispered anxiously. "Tall. Swiss accent. He said it was important. He also said… you should read it when you're alone."
The boy ran off before Stefan could ask anything else.
Julien, who had witnessed the exchange from a distance, jogged over immediately.
"Was that… a secret admirer?" he asked hopefully.
"No," Stefan said.
"Oh." Julien paused. "…A secret enemy?"
"More likely."
Julien nodded solemnly. "Ah. So, Tuesday."
Inside the car, Stefan opened the envelope.
There was only a single sentence inside.
written in tight, angled handwriting:
"He is watching you. Be careful whom you trust."
No signature.
No symbol.
Just a warning from someone who should not know anything about Stefan's life.
Fabio noticed his expression when he entered the villa later that evening.
"Tough day?" Fabio asked gently.
"Interesting day," Stefan corrected.
He handed his father the note.
Fabio's face tightened immediately. "Where did you get this?"
"At school."
Fabio exhaled slowly and gestured for him to follow.
The two walked quietly toward the grand study, where Vittorio and Gianluca were already reviewing documents related to Sutter.
When Fabio placed the anonymous note on the table, both grandfathers froze.
Gianluca read it twice, eyes narrowing.
Vittorio shut the folder he was reading. "So it begins."
Stefan spoke calmly. "Is this from Sutter?"
"No," Gianluca murmured. "This isn't his style. He prefers precision, not mystery."
Fabio looked at Stefan carefully. "This is someone else. Someone who is either trying to warn you… or manipulate you."
"Possibly both," Stefan said.
A silence fell over the room.
Not fear.
Not panic.
Strategy.
The Weiss men were preparing for the first small storm of many.
Finally, Vittorio nodded decisively. "We handle this quietly. We won't let Zurich set the field."
Gianluca placed a hand on Stefan's shoulder. "And you, caro ragazzo… be vigilant."
Stefan nodded.
He had expected the future to move.
He simply didn't expect it to move this soon.
But then again—
He wasn't afraid of ripples.
He intended to shape the waves.
And whoever had sent that message…
Was now part of the game.
The first ripples had appeared.
And the waters of Europe were beginning to shift.