The quiet hum of London’s early dawn filtered into the penthouse suite, a montary peace before the city’s pulse stirred awake. Inside the private command room connected to Ren’s AI lab interface, soft blue light danced across his focused face as he reviewed Lucia’s security updates.
Several unidentified sweeps had probed their digital periter last night—Daigo’s team, no doubt. Lucia had repelled the breach, issued a trace pulse, and now passive surveillance covered every Daigo-connected agent within 500 kiloters.
Ren tapped the side of his temple. "Lucia."
"Yes, sir?"
"Ship the Mark 85. Undeployed mode only. Deliver to this suite under maximum stealth protocol."
"Understood. ETA: 47 minutes. Shall I wake Aoi?"
He glanced at the sleeping figures of Aoi and baby Hikari in the adjoining room, wrapped peacefully in a halo of filtered moonlight.
"No. Not yet."
Later That Morning
A black reinforced crate was delivered via an unmarked van to the service entrance. Inside, the Mark 85 armor, polished in obsidian and graphite with cobalt nodes, lay dormant — sleek, alien, and waiting.
Ren opened the crate, brushed his fingers across the chest plate, and quietly locked the reactor module into place.
"Sir, the suit is in low-power containnt mode. Confirm deploynt if necessary?"
Ren nodded once and pressed the core against his chest. It magnetized smoothly, sinking into the skin with a soft blue glow.
He didn’t say much. Only one line.
"If anything happens... no rcy."
That Evening – The Royal Tech Dinner
Held in the historic Claridge’s Ballroom, the Royal Institute’s exclusive banquet glistened with an air of high society and cutting-edge prestige. Golden chandeliers sparkled like captured stars, while Nobel laureates, tycoons, and heads of state mingled under the gleam.
Ren arrived in a tailored black suit with micro-steel lining — built by himself, of course. Beside him, Aoi radiated tiless elegance in a crimson silk dress that frad her growing belly with grace.
They turned heads — not just as a couple, but as symbols of intellect, beauty, and mystery.
Reporters whispered about the protective necklace Aoi wore. Tech executives murmured about Ren’s rumored AI systems. And everyone — everyone — tried to guess what exactly was powering the reactor core seen glowing faintly under his suit.
But Ren kept his expression unreadable.
He wasn’t here to impress anyone.
He was here... to observe.
anwhile — A Present for a Princess
Earlier that afternoon, Ren had quietly taken a break and visited a private Bugatti showroom in central London.
And there, waiting under a cover of velvet midnight, was the world’s newest electric hypercar:
The Bugatti Tourbillon.
Custom-modified. Fully integrated with Lucia’s override systems. Armored against EMPs. The paint shimred like cosmic obsidian. And the number plate?
HIKARI
Not for himself.
Not for status.
But for the daughter whose laughter gave his world purpose.
A few reporters outside caught the mont as Ren slid into the driver’s seat. The footage aired within hours, labeled:
"Ren Takasugi Buys a £7M Bugatti for Daughter?"
It wasn’t long before Ren’s and Aoi’s parents back in Japan saw the broadcast. Their phones exploded with ssages.
Aoi’s father laughed for the first ti in weeks. Ren’s mother cried and muttered, "That boy really loves his girls."
Back at the Dinner
No attacks ca that night. No violence. No sudden standoffs.
But shadows shifted across the room.
Daigo was not present — but one of his close international contacts was.
Lucia marked her quietly, tagging every blink and twitch.
And in the back of Ren’s mind, one thought whispered:
"This peace... it’s not real. It’s just the breath before the next war."
He took Aoi’s hand and kissed her fingers gently.
"Whatever happens next," he murmured, "I’ll protect everything that matters."
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