?

  Adrian stepped past the flashing cameras and the swarm of eager voices, entering a sleek car without a single glance back. The doors shut, sealing him away from the chaos.

  Inside, the world felt void of noise.

  He pulled out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen for a moment before typing a message.

  To Nate:

  We need to talk.

  The penthouse displayed understated luxury—floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, while reflections of neon lights lay on the polished marble. A television played a news segment in the background; Adrian’s face appeared on the screen as the newest and youngest laureate of the UNDP, honored for his significant contributions to ethics and innovation.

  Nate lounged on the leather couch, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the broadcast with an amused smirk. As Adrian entered, he barely looked up.

  “Well, well. Look who’s the face of every news outlet today.” His grin widened. “Should I bow to the great academic prodigy?”

  Adrian’s expression remained unreadable as he walked toward the center of the suite, his presence commanding despite the casual setting. “You saw the news,” he said coolly. “Business first.”

  Nate let out a low whistle, feigning offense. “Damn, not even a ‘how have you been’? You were always a cold bastard.”

  Adrian ignored the teasing and sank into the chair opposite him, exuding his usual authority. There was no time for games—this concerned the company now.

  “Let’s talk about Horizon.”

  Nate let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Straight to the point, as always.”

  He tapped a folder on the table, pushing it toward Adrian. “The buy-in went smoothly. You’ve got influence, but on paper, you’re just another investor. No trails leading back to the Vale name.”

  Adrian nodded. That was a given. “And the technology?”

  “Next-gen neural interfaces. No implants, no surgeries. Biochemical stimulation, brainwave modulation—the kind of tech still labeled ‘experimental’ but capable of rewriting the rules on cognitive enhancement,” Nate answered.

  Adrian’s fingers tapped lightly against his glass. “No overlap with my family’s domains. No direct competition.”

  “Exactly. Vale controls hospitals, pharmaceuticals, traditional biotech patents… but this?” Nate tilted his glass, watching the liquid catch the light. “It’s outside their reach.”

  Adrian exhaled. “That means two things. First, we avoid fighting the industry. We position Horizon as a future acquisition target—make it too valuable to crush.”

  Nate’s smirk returned. “And second?”

  “We control how it grows.”

  For a moment, only the sound of jazz and ice shifting in a glass filled the room. Then Nate set his drink down, eyes gleaming with respect. “The way I see it, we’ve got two primary markets—medical applications and high-performance enhancement. Alzheimer’s treatments, cognitive therapy… but also researchers, elite professionals, anyone who needs an edge.”

  Adrian met his gaze evenly. “Horizon must remain subtle.”

  Nate nodded, swirling the glass again. “You’re right. And with our other ventures gaining momentum, it’s time to leverage that. The Innovation Lab has a pipeline of concepts, and Horizon fits perfectly into the ecosystem. We have early-stage startups working on everything from biowearables to diagnostics. If Horizon’s tech lives up to its potential, it could bridge the gap between theoretical breakthroughs and practical applications.”

  Adrian’s fingers drummed against the table. “The Lab has the infrastructure to scale, but we must prioritize quality. We need each project to be a stepping stone toward something bigger. Horizon can redefine how healthcare evolves, but the focus remains on precision. Everything we fund from here on out must be disruptive, but with purpose.”

  Nate leaned back. “Purpose, yes. That’s the key. But the world doesn’t always wait for the perfect solution. The market wants results—and fast. You know that better than anyone.”

  “Then let’s make sure they’re results that matter.”

  Nate studied him. “You don’t want them to see us coming.”

  Adrian lifted his glass slightly. “By the time they do, it’ll be too late.”

  A slow, knowing grin spread Nate’s face. “You really do play the long game.”

  Adrian took a sip of his drink, the city stretching out behind him. “Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  ?

  Nate swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching Adrian carefully. The man had orchestrated all of this from the start. For a brief moment, Nate remembered the first time Adrian had walked into this penthouse with a different kind of proposition.

  Two years earlier.

  The same penthouse felt different—less polished, more chaotic. The room was cluttered with stolen tech, data servers humming in the background, and half-finished biotech prototypes that should never have existed outside of a government lab.

  Sixteen-year-old Adrian Vale walked in like he owned the place.

  Nate barely looked up from his screen, fingers flying over his keyboard as he entered another high-security system. “You ask like you’re not knee-deep in this too,” he muttered.

  Adrian didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pulled a small data chip from his pocket and placed it on the table between them.

  “We both know the underground biotech game is reaching its limit,” he said, his voice calm. “The Vale family could shut it all down overnight if they wanted to.” A pause. “I want to build something they can’t touch.”

  That got Nate’s attention. He leaned back, eyeing Adrian. “And here I thought you liked being king of the shadows.”

  Adrian’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I’d rather build an empire in the daylight. One that avoids backdoor deals.”

  Then, the real bombshell.

  “I want you to run it.”

  Nate laughed because the idea sounded insane, but Adrian didn’t flinch.

  Nate considered it, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Let me get this straight. You’re asking me, a criminal mastermind, to go legit and run a tech empire?”

  Adrian met his gaze, unwavering. “Yes. Unless you prefer being on the run forever.”

  For the first time, Nate found himself at a crossroads. He could keep playing this game, running from the inevitable. Or he could take the deal and rewrite the rules entirely.

  Nate smirked. “Alright, kid. Let’s play.”

  ?

  As the other students remained behind, participating in the student welcome session after the opening ceremony, Adrian walked straight past them, heading for the gate, slipping into a sleek, dark car without a single glance back. The doors shut, sealing him away from the chaos outside.

  The whispers followed him just as persistently as the cameras.

  “They say he barely does interviews, just gives the bare minimum.”

  “Did you see how he walked out? No hesitation. Like he owns the place.”

  “Well, he kind of does. The Vale family could probably buy the university if they wanted.

  The student welcome section transformed the courtyard into a festival of energy and excitement. Banners of various clubs fluttered in the morning breeze, booths lined every walkway, and students—both new and returning—moved through the lively scene in groups, stopping to browse the displays and sign up for activities. The air buzzed with overlapping voices, laughter, and the occasional burst of music from the orchestra booth where a violinist was demonstrating his skills to an impressed crowd.

  Mira and her friends wandered through the maze of club stands, scanning the choices.

  “Mira! Over here!”

  Valeria stood next to a display of lush greenery, her excitement barely contained. “You have to join the Rare Plant Greenhouse Club with me. They have an entire collection of endangered species, some even brought in from other countries. Just look at these seedlings!”

  Mira’s face lit up. Plants had always been her sanctuary, and the idea of spending time in a greenhouse filled with rare species was irresistible.

  “I’m in,” she said without hesitation, taking the sign-up sheet from Valeria.

  “I knew you’d say yes!” Valeria beamed.

  Meanwhile, Elara had already made her decision, her gaze fixed on the Elite Dance Club booth where a group of students was performing an elegant routine. “I’m signing up for this,” she announced. “They’re one of the most prestigious clubs on campus.”

  “Elite dancing, huh?” Luca whistled. “Guess we should all expect to see you in some grand performances soon.”

  Elara smirked. “Of course.”

  Luca, ever the enthusiast, wasn’t satisfied with just one club. As soon as they passed by the Movie Club booth, he signed up without hesitation.

  “Another one?” Mira asked, amused.

  “I have layers,” Luca said, placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “Movies are art, and I intend to appreciate them properly.”

  Camille stepped forward at the Orchestra Club booth. The soft sound of a cello filled the air as a student demonstrated a piece.

  “I think I’ll join this one,” she said softly, her fingers brushing over the club’s brochure. “It feels... right.”

  Mira smiled. “That’s perfect for you.”

  Elias and Naomi, however, still lingered behind, undecided.

  “I feel like I should explore a bit more before committing,” Elias admitted, scanning the options.

  “Same,” Naomi nodded. “There are too many choices.”

  With most of them signed up for something, the group made their way toward the food booths, where the real chaos of the welcome event unfolded.

  The scent of grilled skewers, fresh pastries, and warm, spiced drinks filled the air. Lines of hungry students stretched in every direction, voices rising over one another as people called out orders and vendors hurried to serve them.

  “This is the real first-day experience,” Luca declared, eyes gleaming as he spotted a stand selling loaded sandwiches. “Food, Mira. Food is the key to happiness.”

  Mira laughed, shaking her head as she took in the bustling scene. Students gathered around tables, sharing meals and swapping stories, the air alive with excitement.

  It was overwhelming. It was exhilarating. It was the start of something new.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  ?

  The courtyard looked almost like a royal garden, with broad stone paths framed by flowering hedges and fountains set between old trees. The midday sun fell through the branches in soft patches, brightening the cobblestones and the blooms along every walkway. A breeze moved through the space, carrying the mix of footsteps and conversations from students passing between classes.

  Mira sat with Camille and Elara on a stone bench, casually sipping her iced tea. The three of them had taken up their favorite spot, a little away from the main crowd, chatting about weekend plans when Camille suddenly nudged Mira’s arm.

  “Look at that,” Camille whispered, tilting her head toward the faculty hall.

  Mira followed her gaze and spotted Adrian Vale, standing near the walkway, as composed as ever. But more interestingly, in front of him stood a girl—a first-year, judging by her hesitant posture—holding out a small, neatly wrapped box.

  A gift.

  From where they sat, they couldn’t hear the exchange, but the girl’s nervous fidgeting and the way she looked up at Adrian with hopeful eyes made the situation clear.

  Elara clicked her tongue. “Oh no… that poor girl.”

  Adrian simply looked at the girl for a second, his expression unreadable, and then stepped around her, walking away without a word.

  A hush fell over the courtyard. A few gasps, a stifled laugh from a group nearby, and then hushed whispers.

  “Damn,” Camille muttered, wide-eyed. “That was brutal.”

  “Cold as ice,” Elara agreed. She leaned forward, watching the girl clutch the box to her chest before slowly turning away, clearly embarrassed. “Seriously, did he even have a heart?”

  Mira turned her eyes toward him, noticing the calm, cold way he looked through people. Unbothered. Detached. Like the world and its affections had nothing to do with him.

  Like someone she knew.

  She let out a slow exhale. “The least he could’ve done was acknowledge it. That was a perfectly good gift.”

  Camille smirked, giving Mira a playful nudge. “Would you try, then? See if you could get a reaction out of him?”

  Mira scoffed. “Please. If I ever started throwing gifts at Adrian Vale, one of you needed to check if I’d lost my mind.”

  Elara chuckled, shaking her head. “Honestly, I didn’t think anything could get a reaction out of that guy.”

  “Exactly.” Mira exhaled sharply.

  ?

  The greenhouses were one of Vermillion’s greatest prides—clustered together in a dedicated research zone set apart from the main campus, yet still within walking distance along vine-covered paths and trees arching overhead. The path in the early morning felt newly awakened, the air cool with traces of night still clinging to the glass.

  Droplets from the misting nozzles tapped against trays and vines, a soft reminder that everything was alive and growing. Mira stepped inside and drew in a long breath, filling her lungs with a clean, earthy freshness that felt like it could wash sleep from her bones.

  The place was massive—far more advanced than any student-run club should have been. Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling, supplemented by solar-powered grow lights. Everything was carefully maintained, from the automated irrigation system to the temperature-controlled sections for delicate species.

  Rare plants surrounded her—ghost orchids suspended in midair, Wollemi pines growing in carefully monitored soil, and even a section dedicated to bioluminescent fungi, glowing in the dim corners.

  She thought she’d be the first one here.

  But at the far end, near the digital control panel, someone was already working. Adrian.

  Even from a distance, she recognized him—the genius research student who was practically a legend on campus. He wore his usual white shirt, sleeves buttoned neatly at his wrists, amber eyes focused on the data in front of him.

  Mira slowed her steps, watching him for a moment. It was strange seeing him here, in a student club of all places. She knew he was deeply involved in neuroscience and biotechnology research—so what did rare plants have to do with that?

  Before she could overthink it, she continued forward, her presence finally catching his attention.

  He glanced up.

  She smiled politely. “Good morning.”

  Adrian gave a small nod—acknowledgment.

  A beat of silence passed before the sliding door opened again.

  “Mira! You made it early,” Valeria—Val—called out as she entered, grinning.

  Val Moreau was a Biology major, specializing in plant genetics. With short tomboyish black hair and a confident stride, she had a natural presence that drew people in. Unlike most biology students, who buried themselves in research, Val had the energy of someone who could be at the center of any social event yet still ace her exams.

  Mira grinned back. “Of course! I wasn’t going to miss it.”

  Two more students followed Val inside. Noah Laurent, a botany major with curly golden hair and a relax demeanor.

  Beside him, Ren Takahashi adjusted the collar of his lab coat, a thin earring catching the light as his short brown ponytail shifted when he turned. An artist’s instinct embedded in every small movement.

  Once everyone gathered, Adrian finally spoke. “I’ll start by showing you around.”

  He gave clear, direct instructions as he led them through the greenhouse, explaining the irrigation system, the different sections for rare species, and the strict care guidelines for each plant.

  By the time they circled back to the workstation, the professor had finally arrived.

  “Ah, my young botanists,” Professor Aldric greeted, stepping in with an easy smile. He was an older man, silver-haired with round glasses and a casual sweater over his button-up. Unlike Adrian, who carried an air of cool detachment, the professor was warm and approachable.

  “Now that you’ve seen the place, let’s introduce ourselves properly,” he said. “Name, major, and why you’re here.”

  Val went first, flipping her hair. “Valeria Moreau, Biology major. I’m specializing in plant genetics, but I also think plants are just cool.”

  Mira rolled her eyes with a laugh.

  Noah was next. “Noah Laurent, Botany major. I like plants more than people. That’s about it.”

  Ren adjusted his sleeves. “Ren Takahashi, Biomedical Science. Medicinal plants and their properties are my focus.”

  Then all eyes turned to Adrian.

  Adrian, standing with his usual composed posture, spoke evenly. “Adrian Vale. Research student in neuroscience and biotech.”

  Then, everyone turned their attention to Mira.

  “I’m Mira, an International Relations major,” she chirped.

  Silence.

  Ren frowned. “You’re not in a science field?”

  Mira shook her head. “Nope! I just love plants.”

  Val nudged her. “And because I forced you.”

  “That too.” Mira grinned. “But honestly, I think this club is amazing, and I want to help however I can.”

  The group exchanged glances before Noah sighed. “Well, that’s new.”

  Ren crossed his arms. “Unexpected, but not necessarily bad.”

  Even Adrian, though he said nothing, looked mildly surprised.

  Professor Aldric chuckled. “That’s the kind of enthusiasm we need.” Then, shifting the conversation, he added, “Now, aside from taking care of our plants, we have a bigger goal ahead. This club may be small, but we’re working on raising funds and public awareness about rare plant conservation.”

  He turned to Mira. “That’s where you’ll be especially valuable.”

  “We need someone to handle outreach, funding proposals, and networking. Organizing events, too. It’s a lot, but I think you’re the perfect fit.”

  Mira hadn’t expected to be assigned something so soon—but the idea excited her. Mira nodded, her tone bright and sincere. “I hope my participation can somehow help the group. I might not have much knowledge about the technical side of things, but I can handle paperwork, scheduling, public relations, and even design if needed.”

  “Perfect.” The professor smiled, looking around at the group. “Then let’s get started.”

  Feeling encouraged, Mira added, “Actually, would it be okay if I bring my camera here to take pictures of the plants? It could help with outreach.”

  The professor nodded warmly. “Of course. To make the public aware of our work, we need good visuals too.”

  Adrian, however, added in his usual calm tone, “Some plants may be sensitive to camera flash. If you want to take pictures, you must strictly follow those guidelines.”

  Mira turned to him and nodded. “Got it. Thank you for letting me know.” Then, thinking for a moment, she added with enthusiasm, “We could even make signs to warn about flash sensitivity—for the club members and later for visitors.”

  The professor nodded in satisfaction. “It’s good to see a mix of expertise and interests. This club isn’t just about growing rare plants—it’s about understanding them, protecting them, and sharing that knowledge with others.”

  Noah adjusted his glasses. “I can focus on the daily care and growth tracking. I’m especially interested in monitoring how certain species adapt to controlled conditions.”

  Ren, still leaning against a table, added, “I’ll look into medicinal properties and possible pharmaceutical applications. If we get anything promising, I’d like to study its biochemical composition.”

  Valeria stretched her arms. “I’m more into genetic diversity and adaptability. I’d love to see if we can crossbreed or enhance certain traits in these plants.”

  As the club meeting wrapped up earlier than expected, the students parted ways, each heading back to their respective dorms. Mira and Adrian, by coincidence, found themselves walking in the same direction, their footsteps echoing softly in the corridor.

  Mira glanced at Adrian briefly, noting how he walked with an effortless, composed pace—white shirt crisp as always, sleeves rolled just enough to hint at a routine rather than style. She was used to chatting with people, filling silences with light conversation, but something about Adrian’s presence made her hesitate. He wasn’t unfriendly, just… distant, like someone who existed in a separate space even when walking right beside you.

  Still, she wasn’t the type to overthink awkwardness.

  "Looks like we’re neighbors," she remarked casually.

  Adrian gave a small nod, acknowledging the fact.

  The walk was short, and neither seemed to feel the need to force conversation.

  As they reached their rooms—directly opposite each other—Mira turned the handle to her door and, out of habit, glanced at him again.

  "See you next time," she said naturally.

  Adrian paused for a fraction of a second, then gave another slight nod before unlocking his door.

  Mira smiled to herself, not minding the lack of response. If anything, she found it amusing. Some people were just like that.

  ?

  High noon bathed the greenhouse in a heavy, golden silence. The light filtered through the high-tech glass panels, turning the air humid and fragrant—a suspended world separate from the campus outside.

  Adrian entered, his presence soundless on the tiled floor. He had come for the data—nutrient levels, pH balances, the rigid predictability of science. But the moment the door slid shut behind him, the variables changed.

  Mira was there.

  She was kneeling beside a row of delicate orchids, her profile etched in the sunlight. The world seemed to narrow down to the viewfinder of her camera. A slight movement of her fingers — a tiny shift of the lens — adjusting ever so slightly for depth and clarity.

  A Luna moth, confused by the season or perhaps drawn by the warmth, drifted down from the rafters. Its pale green wings caught the light—dust motes dancing in its wake—before it settled softly on a loose strand of Mira’s silver hair.

  Adrian stood there for a moment, watching the impossible moth rest on the girl who seemed equally out of place in this greenhouse. The only sounds were the rhythmic hiss of the automated misters and the soft, mechanical click of her shutter. They fell into a silent orbit. Adrian moved to the control panel, his fingers tapping across the glass interface, checking nutrient distribution. Mira shifted her tripod, fluid as water, crouching low to capture the fuzz of a sprout or the veins of a petal.

  He would glance up from his tablet; she would pause to check her display. They never made eye contact, yet they were acutely aware of the other’s breathing, the other’s space. It was a shared solitude.

  Time dissolved in the golden haze. Shadows lengthened across the floor tiles.

  Eventually, Adrian checked his watch. He hesitated, looking at her back. She was completely immersed, lost in the miniature world of a single flower.

  “Our class starts in five minutes,” he said. His voice was low, barely breaking the atmosphere. “Aren’t you coming?”

  Mira turned, blinking as if waking from a dream. She looked at him, then at the time, the reality of the outside world rushing back in.

  “Oh—right! I have class! Thank you so much for reminding me!”

  The peace shattered into a flurry of motion. She scrambled to pack her gear, collapsing the tripod and stuffing the camera into her bag.

  She rushed past him, stirring the air around them. The sudden movement carried the distinct fragrance of osmanthus—sweet and light, indistinguishable from the fresh early autumn breeze.

  “We have to run!”

  She dashed out the door, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

  Adrian stood alone in the sudden emptiness of the greenhouse. The moth was gone. The girl was gone.

  He just watched her leave.

  And only after a second did he realize — there was a faint smile on his lips.

  ?

  Adrian’s eyes scanned the email, his expression unchanged at first. But as he read through the timeline and progress report, there was a barely perceptible shift—his brows lifted ever so slightly.

  Subject: Meeting Request – Plant Portfolio Review & Confirmation

  Dear Adrian,

  I hope you’re doing well.

  The plant portfolio pictures have been completed, and I’d like to review them with you to confirm each plant’s name and any special warnings or care instructions that should be noted. Since accuracy is crucial, I’d appreciate your input before finalizing everything.

  Attached is the updated timeline and progress report. Within just one week, we’ve made significant strides in the project, as outlined below:

  To finalize the portfolio and ensure accuracy, I’d like to schedule a meeting with you and your direct consultant at any time over the weekend that works for you. Please let me know your availability.

  Looking forward to your confirmation.

  Best regards,

  Mira

  Only a week had passed since the club’s first meeting, yet the project had moved forward with an efficiency that felt almost pre-planned. Mira had taken charge without hesitation, structuring everything with precision, following through on every detail. It wasn’t just the speed—it was how seamlessly things were falling into place.

  She had been in the greenhouse every day, camera in hand, organizing, checking, moving from one task to another. Always rushing somewhere, always immersed in something. Adrian had noticed it in passing, though he hadn’t thought much of it. But now, seeing the results laid out so clearly, he found himself considering her more than he meant to.

  A brief pause. Then, without further thought, he opened his calendar and began typing his reply.

  

  Their wings catch light like crystal dust under the sky, so they feel like a creature blessed by the moon.

  Adults appear around late spring to summer, most often May to July, in forest areas with birch, walnut, hickory and sweetgum trees.