The boardroom at Zephyr was bright in the way expensive rooms always were, as though the polished wood, brushed glass, and pale stone had been designed to make every decision inside them feel inevitable. Ren sat at the head of the table with one leg crossed over the other, his expression calm enough to seem almost lazy to anyone who did not know him well. Fang, seated beside him, was not looking at the room at all. He was looking at the reports projected above the table, his violet eyes moving with sharp, precise attention from one figure to the next. The display showed markets, holdings, subsidiaries, transport routes, and legal exposure points across Cosmopolis and beyond, each line annotated in Ren's neat hand and Fang's cleaner, more severe corrections.
