Chapter Two — Observation
Vanessa didn't sleep that night. Not because she was nervous. Not because she was anxious. She simply didn't need to.
Her penthouse overlooked the city in a sprawling lattice of light. The river glittered like molten silver beneath the moon, but the view barely registered. She sat at her desk, untouched tablet in front of her, documents stacked neatly as always, and considered Eric.
The Verian.
The thought had lodged itself deep in her mind, unbidden. She tried to analyze it logically. He was a man — humanoid in every observable way. Yet, something was different. Something fundamental. She couldn't put her finger on it, and that unsettled her.
It wasn't just his composure. Not just his perfect symmetry, his ageless skin, or the way he didn't react to standard conversational tests like a human would. It was… presence.
A kind of stillness that didn't just occupy a room. It anchored it.
---
By morning, she had made a decision.
He would not remain a myth for her. He would be studied. Tested. Observed. Fully. And then, if he proved to be what he claimed — if he truly was Verian — he would serve a function. Not a pet. Not a tool. A solution. One she could understand, quantify, and… control.
The morning light spilled across her office as she arrived, sharp as always, heels clicking against marble. Julian Armitage was already there, waiting with a folder in hand.
"Morning," he said. Polite. Controlled. Like always.
"Morning," she replied, eyes scanning the screens. Numbers moved. Markets shifted. Everything she loved. Everything predictable.
"I assume you've seen the report from Geneva?" he asked, sliding the folder across her desk.
Vanessa didn't pick it up immediately. "Brief me."
Julian cleared his throat. "The broker has confirmed the man exists. There are multiple documents — conflicting, unverifiable — but the biological analysis is consistent. He's… unusual. Not just in appearance. His physiology shows—"
"Stability beyond human limits," Vanessa finished.
"Yes," Julian admitted. "And yet, no apparent regenerative abilities. No recorded medical history. No proof of age beyond testimony and blood markers. Frankly, it's… extraordinary."
Vanessa considered that. Extraordinary was one thing. Impossible was another. She had never encountered either without profit.
"Arrange for a controlled observation," she said. "Discreetly. No leaks."
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Observation? You've already met him."
"Yes. But meeting is not studying. Watching is different."
"Understood," he said, tapping notes into his tablet.
---
Two days later, Eric arrived at Valecrest's private testing suite. The building was a glass-and-steel monolith, empty except for a few assistants and the necessary equipment. Vanessa had chosen an environment completely under her control — silent, neutral, sterile.
Eric walked in as always — calm, deliberate, unaffected by cameras, lights, or attention. He did not speak immediately. He simply stood, observing.
Vanessa approached him slowly, heels clicking against polished concrete. "We'll begin with basic assessments."
He nodded, expression unreadable. "I understand."
Her team started with standard medical scans, non-invasive tests, and psychological assessments. Blood work, reflex testing, cognitive evaluation — nothing that could harm him, but enough to determine anomalies.
Throughout it all, Eric remained still. Quiet. Attentive.
Vanessa found herself watching him. Not the tests. Not the metrics. Him.
How his hands never trembled. How his gaze followed every movement without distraction. How even the faintest twitch of a muscle seemed intentional.
It was unnerving.
"You're observing him more than the instruments," one assistant whispered.
Vanessa didn't answer immediately. She didn't need to. The truth was obvious. She couldn't help herself. There was a gravitational pull she hadn't anticipated — not attraction, exactly. Observation. Assessment. Something deeper.
By midday, they concluded the tests. No anomalies were visible beyond the impossible stability of his body and his physiological perfection. Mentally, he was measured. Emotional responses… minimal. Calculated. Even in minor stress tests, he remained steady.
Vanessa walked to the observation deck. Eric followed quietly, stopping a few steps behind.
"Do you always follow without being asked?" she asked. Calm. Not hostile, not curious. Just stating fact.
"I follow when it is expected," he said softly. "But I remain where I am needed."
She tilted her head, studying him. "And what if you are not needed?"
His gaze met hers directly. "Then I wait."
The simplicity of that sentence lodged in her mind. She had built empires on contracts, agreements, and contingency plans. She had never considered waiting — simply being present without expectation — as anything meaningful. Yet the weight of it was undeniable.
---
Later, alone in her office, Vanessa leaned against the window. Outside, the city moved predictably, beautifully. Inside, her thoughts refused to settle.
Eric was not a man to negotiate. Not in the traditional sense. He offered no charm. No strategy. No ambition. Only… presence. And observation. And that presence made her feel exposed in a way she had not felt in years.
She realized something dangerous: she wanted him to be more than a solution. She wanted to understand him. Completely.
And for the first time, she felt… anticipation.
Not of power. Not of control. Not of profit.
But of interaction.
---
By the time the evening came, Julian sent a text:
"You are obsessed."
Vanessa ignored it.
Not because she didn't care. Because she didn't understand yet.
And she suspected, deep down, that no one ever truly could understand a Verian.
Not fully.
And perhaps, that was the point.
---
The end.