The elegant script of Irakli Makharov’s note, “*I’m waiting*,” remained etched in Lali’s memory. The partially solved puzzle box on her pillow was an open sneer. She crushed the slip of paper against her palm. He knew. He hadn’t just suspected; he *knew* Nana wouldn’t have left the box untouched. He was toying with her. This wasn’t just about the dowry anymore; it was about survival, and a growing, unsettling sense of injustice for the scarred man downstairs.
She found Niko hunched over a schematic spread across their shared table, his brow furrowed in concentration. Gears, springs, and coils of glittering wire lay scattered around him. “Irakli’s playing games,” she stated, throwing the crumpled note onto the table. “He solved the box. Or at least started it. He knows I’m not Nana.”
Niko glanced at the note, then at the puzzle box. “He’s testing you. But why reveal he knows? Unless… he wants you to act.” He tapped a finger on a diagram depicting a network of glowing conduits. “Remember that fuel line I found? The one leading off the property?”
Lali nodded, pulling up a chair. “The one connected to his property.”
“Precisely. I’ve been tracing its energy signature. It’s not just a power line; it’s a high-capacity feeder, far beyond what his private estate would need for basic operations. It’s designed to siphon immense amounts of raw vapor. And it’s been running constantly, though at varying intensities, for the past seven years.”
Seven years. The exact time since Kordian’s catastrophe. Lali leaned over the paper. “You think it’s related?”
“It’s more than related, Lali. This line, according to the energy output data I’ve managed to intercept, feeds directly into the heart of a defunct regional power station—the very one Kordian was blamed for collapsing. But here’s the thing: the station’s main stabilizer, the *Ardenite Flux Regulator*, was manufactured by Irakli’s own corporation, the Chronos Conglomerate.” Niko pointed to a specific node on the schematic. “And the energy fluctuations recorded from *this* channel match the exact frequency required to destabilize an Ardenite Regulator.”
Lali stared at the intersecting schematics, her pulse quickening with anger. “He framed him,” she whispered. “He manufactured the component, then intentionally sabotaged it using his secret duct, all to ruin Kordian.”
Niko gave a sharp nod. “It wasn’t an accident. It was a deliberate act of industrial espionage and sabotage, designed to eliminate a rival and seize his patents. Kordian was the scapegoat.”
Lali stood, her fists clenched. The image of Kordian’s scarred hand, his tortured expression in the workshop, flashed before her eyes. The shame, the isolation, the public disgrace—all because of Irakli’s calculated cruelty. Niko's future, the dowry, suddenly seemed secondary. This wasn't just about escaping ruin; it was about justice. “We need proof. Undeniable proof.”
“Easier said than done,” Niko cautioned. “Irakli’s meticulous. The line is shielded, disguised within the old Tibeli municipal network.”
“Then we go where he wouldn’t expect,” Lali declared. “Kordian’s old workshop. His studies. He must have kept notes, original schematics, anything that wasn’t destroyed in the ‘accident’.” “I’m not just getting the dowry anymore, Niko. I’m going to clear Kordian Sturua’s name, and I’m going to make Irakli Makharov pay.”
Later that evening, while the manor’s clockwork servants clanked through their nightly rounds, Lali slipped into Kordian’s study. The scent of aged leather and ozone clung to the air. Her gaze swept the towering shelves, past volumes on temporal mechanics and harmonic convergence, until she spotted a small, unmarked journal tucked behind a row of dense tomes. It looked utterly out of place, lacking the elaborate bindings of the other books.
She worked it free of the shelf. It was bound in plain, worn leather, its pages filled with Kordian’s precise, angular script. It wasn’t a technical log. It was personal. His private thoughts. She flipped it open, her gaze falling upon an entry dated seven years prior, just weeks before the catastrophe.
*“Elio can barely sleep ahead of the launch. He believes in me so fiercely. He calls the core my ‘star-catcher,’ destined to bring light to the whole district. If only he understood the stakes. The Chronos Conglomerate’s Ardenite Flux Regulator is causing minor resonance fluctuations, but their engineers assure me it’s within acceptable parameters. I pray they are right. Elio’s smile is the sun in this damned place.”*
Elio. The boy in the locket. Kordian’s younger kin. Bitterness hardened in Lali’s throat. His grief wasn’t just for his ruined reputation; it was for a lost sibling, a life stolen by another man’s greed. His isolation, his bitterness—it wasn't just arrogance. It was the crushing burden of a survivor’s guilt, a silent scream for the bright, intelligent eyes and mischievous grin of a boy who believed his older brother could catch stars.
She turned another page, fingers catching on the parchment edge. The ink was smudged, as if written in haste, or through tears. The entry was dated hours before the incident. Her eyes scanned the desperate lines.
*“The core is unstable. If it overloads again, it won’t just be the district. It will be the entire city.”*