The folder sat on her desk like a coiled serpent.
Seraphina Vance had read its contents seventeen times since the intelligence division delivered it at dawn. Each reading revealed new threads. New connections. New problems that made her temples throb with the particular headache reserved for situations that defied her carefully maintained order.
Satori Nakano. The Zero who wasn't. The anomaly who shouldn't exist.
She lifted her teacup and took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle into her chest. The blend was her personal reserve, grown in the VHC's private biodome, harvested by staff who understood that touching the President's tea without permission meant immediate reassignment to the Outer Wards.
