The next day, Caelum returned to the same neighborhood, earlier than before. Liora was gone. He expected that—small deviations often required patience. He walked past the school, the streets, and the alleyways he had memorized from his previous life. Every shadow, every crack in the pavement, was familiar.
A small crowd had gathered near an abandoned warehouse. Caelum slowed, observing from a distance. There was a commotion: a young man being harassed by a group of older boys. His movements were awkward, but his resolve was obvious.
He remembered this one. A minor criminal in his first life, someone he had ignored. Now, he was perfect for testing the next recruitment step.
Caelum stepped forward. Not to intervene directly—he liked to let fate work—but to push the world slightly.
The boys were laughing, shoving him against the wall. Caelum's shadow fell over the alley, and their laughter faltered.
"Enough." His voice was calm, commanding.
The leader of the group turned, scowling. "Mind your business, old man."
"I'm not part of your business. You are."
One boy tripped, another hesitated. By the time they realized the man wasn't bluffing, they had already scattered.
Caelum didn't chase them. They would remember him, and that was enough.
The young man pressed himself against the wall, chest heaving. Dirt smeared his clothes, cuts on his knuckles. He looked up at Caelum, confused, wary, but curious.
"Who… who are you?" he asked.
Caelum crouched slightly, meeting his gaze. "Someone who remembers what comes next. And someone willing to give you a choice."
The boy blinked, not understanding.
"A… choice?"
"Yes." Caelum pulled out a folded card and handed it over. No logos, no company name, no explanations. Only a number.
"Call me. Or don't. Your future doesn't care either way—but I do."
The boy hesitated. He wanted to ask questions, but the tone in Caelum's voice stopped him. He nodded slowly and slipped the card into his pocket.
Caelum stood and turned, walking away. He didn't need thanks. He only needed compliance—later, loyalty could be earned.
From the street above, he looked back once. The boy was staring at the card as if it were a puzzle, uncertain how it could possibly matter. In three years, he would know.
Small sparks were already forming. One minor change, one slight intervention. Nothing major, but enough to alter the flow. Enough to start building a team, quietly, invisibly.
Caelum felt a faint thrill. The first real move in his preparation had been made. One name marked. One person nudged onto the path he desired.
Above the city, faint lights glimmered in the sky—constellations far older than humanity. They blinked. Curious, amused, perhaps irritated.
Stories were beginning too early. They were watching.
Caelum didn't care.
He had time.