The lobby wasn't exactly crowded—this wasn't the kind of building that tolerated crowds—but a few people moved through the space.

A man in a suit worth more than a car, barking into his phone like the person on the other end owed him money.

An older woman with a small dog tucked under her arm, both of them wearing expressions of supreme constipation.

A young couple examining one of the chrome sneeze sculptures with the forced interest of people who didn't understand art but desperately wanted to seem like they did.

None of them looked at Phei directly.

But he caught them glancing. Quick, furtive looks that slid away when he noticed. The suit guy shifted slightly, creating distance without realizing why. The constipated woman's tiny dog started wagging its tail.

The young couple kept stealing peeks like he was the most interesting thing in the room.

Dominance Aura making the men uncomfortable. Cool Aura making everyone curious.

Nice to know it works on literally everyone except the front desk. Maybe I should bring her a coffee or something?

Crack that professional shell. Or maybe she's just seen too many "new owners" strut in like they own the place—only to move out in a year because the maintenance fees are more than most people's mortgages, and suddenly the view isn't worth the existential dread.

A sound yanked him out of his petty scheming.

Small feet. Rapid pattering. The unmistakable rhythm of a child running somewhere they definitely shouldn't be running.

Phei turned.

A little girl—maybe three or four, wearing a pink dress that probably cost more than his old wardrobe and pigtails that bounced like tiny springs—came absolutely booking it across the marble lobby like she was fleeing the scene of a cookie theft.

She was moving fast. Way too fast. Heading straight for the short flight of stairs that led down to the elevator bay.

Whoever was supposed to be supervising her—mother, nanny, hired conscience—trailed a good twenty feet behind, head bowed to a glowing phone, thumbs busy doing whatever modern adults did while outsourcing survival to fate.

The girl's shoe clipped the lip of the first step.

That was all it took.

Her center of gravity betrayed her.

Physics leaned forward, cracked its knuckles, and prepared to teach a lesson.

Her body pitched forward.

Physics took over.

Phei moved.

He didn't think. Didn't calculate. Didn't have time to wonder why his body suddenly knew how to be athletic. He just went—three quick strides eating up the distance, hand reaching out—

Contact.

One arm swept beneath her middle, clean and instinctive. The other slammed against the railing to steal balance from the fall. Marble rushed past where her face would have been, and then—suddenly—she was upright, suspended in his grip, alive and blinking.

Two seconds from a dental reconstruction. Thankfully saved by my poor planning and better reflexes.

She weighed nothing. Like a bag of sugar with pigtails.

"Whoa there," Phei said, setting her upright on solid ground. "Stairs are not your friend today, yeah?"

She stared at him, eyes enormous like diner plates, mouth forming a perfect O of shock. Then the fear melted—instant, total—and burst into a giggle so pure it bordered on obscene. The kind of sound evolution designed specifically to override adult judgment.

"You caught me!"

"I did. You're welcome."

"You're fast!"

"Apparently."

She tilted her head, studying him with the intense scrutiny that only children and serial killers possessed. Then her eyes went wide with discovery.

"Your eyes are PURPLE!"

Phei huffed a laugh. "Yeah, they are."

"That's SO COOL! Are you a wizard?"

Close enough, kid. Close!

"Something like that."

"Can you do magic?!"

"Sometimes. When nobody's looking."

"Do magic NOW!"

"Can't. You're looking."

Her face scrunched up in the most adorable expression of frustration he'd ever seen. "That's not FAIR!"

"Life rarely is. You'll learn that around tax season."

She had no idea what that meant—obviously—but she giggled anyway, apparently deciding he was funny even when she didn't understand the joke.

The mother came sprinting over, phone forgotten, face cycling through about fifteen emotions per second. Panic. Relief. Gratitude. Embarrassment. More panic.

"Oh my GOD, Lily!" She scooped up the girl, clutching her like she might evaporate. "I told you not to RUN! How many times—what did I—you could have—"

"The wizard caught me, Mommy!"

"The wiz—what?"

The mother turned to Phei, clearly trying to process the word "wizard" while also dealing with post-near-disaster adrenaline.

"I'm so sorry," she blurted. "She's always doing this—always running, I turn around for ONE SECOND and she's gone, I don't know how she's so fast, she's three, THREE, how is she faster than me—"

"She's fine," Phei said easily. "No harm done. Maybe lay off the sugar though. Pretty sure she broke the sound barrier there."

The mother let out a laugh that was ninety percent relief and ten percent hysteria. "Thank you. Really. If she'd fallen..." She shuddered visibly, arms tightening around Lily. "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it."

Lily peered at him over her mother's shoulder. "Bye, wizard!"

Phei gave her a small wave. "Bye, tiny chaos demon."

She erupted into giggles as her mother carried her away, still waving until they disappeared around a corner.

Cute kid. Terrible survival instincts, but cute.

It was only then that Phei became aware of the attention.

The entire lobby had witnessed that little rescue.

Suit guy had stopped mid-sentence, phone hanging limply at his side. Constipated woman was staring openly, her tiny dog's tail still wagging furiously. The art-appreciating couple had abandoned all pretense and were just gawking now.

Even the ice queen receptionist was looking at him with something that might have been interest, if you squinted hard enough and believed in miracles.

Cool Aura.

Turning a simple catch into something that stuck in people's minds. Making them reassess whatever assumptions they'd made when he walked in.

Not bad. Apparently saving children from gravity makes a good first impression. Note to self: find more falling children.

That sounded creepier than intended. Maybe don't note that.

"Mr. Ryujin Tiamat?"

He turned.

A woman had emerged from the back offices—early thirties, auburn hair twisted into a loose bun. Dressed in the kind of professional attire that said I take my job seriously but quietly confessed to a secret Pinterest board devoted to cottagecore delusions and tasteful throw pillows.

Pretty.

Not like the ice-queen-receptionist—this was softer. Approachable. The sort of face that invited confessions you'd regret later, the kind where you'd spill your darkest secrets and she'd nod sympathetically while mentally noting how to use them against you.

What held his attention was her gaze.

She kept looking at him. Not openly—nothing so obvious—but in quick, unconscious glances. Eyes to his face, away, then back again, like her brain hadn't finished processing whatever conclusion it was circling.

Residual fallout from watching him pluck a toddler out of marble's waiting arms.

Does she have a little sister? Phei wondered. A kid of her own? Or maybe she was just a functional human being who reacted favorably to strangers intercepting gravity on behalf of the defenseless kids.

Probably a mix. The Cool Aura refracted differently depending on the observer.

"I'm Sarah," she said, extending a hand. "I'll be showing you to your unit."

Her handshake was firm. Clean. Professional.

Her eyes, however, kept flickering.

Yeah, he thought. The kid thing landed.

Mentally filed under not a complete monster. A low bar, but an important one.

"Lead the way," Phei said.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.