POV: Time Variance Authority

Professor West, having delivered his parting words, politely but firmly dismissed Elias from the hospital room. Elias, taking the cue, offered a final "take care" before quietly stepping out.

Just before the door closed, Elias caught a glimpse of West through the narrow gap—sitting on a small stool beside his daughter's bed, gently clasping her painfully thin arm as he recounted the week's trivial happenings.

***

An early sunrise painted warm light across the skyscrapers as Elias returned to Ms. Harrington's office, ready for the usual project update. Once inside, he recounted his conversation with Professor West: all of West's reasons for refusing to sell the "failed" compound, and his unwavering commitment to cryonics—even though the world saw it as an impossible dream.

"He's even more stubborn than we imagined," Elias concluded with a faint sigh.

Ms. Harrington rested her chin on her palm, brows knit in thought.

"His fears about commercial interests overtaking his actual research are… not entirely wrong," she said softly, "but they do seem extreme."

Elias nodded. "I tried reasoning with him—pointing out how the funding could help him. No luck. He hardly trusts outsiders these days, maybe because of all the betrayals he's faced. He's so determined to save his daughter, I can't really blame him."

Ms. Harrington exhaled, pressing fingertips against her temple. "We can't fully understand his pain. A father's desperation is powerful. If this is truly the path he's chosen… perhaps we should respect it."

She lifted her gaze, fixing Elias with a decisive look. "All right. Then we'll drop any plans involving him or that compound. Let's not bother him anymore."

Elias offered a faint smile, relieved.

"Agreed. If we're no help in saving his daughter, no point adding to his burdens."

Ms. Harrington nodded. "Then the new product idea for the Rhine brand must be reworked. In the meantime, let's refocus on the IP expansions. That's your domain, right?"

Elias hastily scribbled notes.

"Sure. Rhine Cat's plush line is rolling, so next is 3D modeling for future cartoons, ads—plus finalizing voice, catchphrases, personality traits. I'll get on that right away."

"Good," she said, leaning back in her chair. "Thanks for all your effort, Elias. Dismissed."

Bang.

The heavy, coded office door sealed behind him, shutting out Ms. Harrington's world of CEO responsibilities. As Elias stepped into the corridor, his eyes lingered on that vault-like door, recalling the ominous "TVA invitation" she'd received. The very thought of it still stirred uneasy images—Claw's father, murdered under mysterious circumstances.

But what reason could he possibly give Ms. Harrington to see that letter? It was private. For now, he resolved to let it go—no sense stirring trouble.

***

Over the following days, Elias poured all his energy into shaping Rhine Cat's future. His small team faced two main tasks:

3D Model Creation: Laying the foundation for upcoming merchandise, animations, and other promotional material.

Character Enrichment: Dreaming up new expressions, poses, costumes, catchphrases—everything to give Rhine Cat a distinct and memorable identity.

Conveniently, Elias's dream world—set in 2624—had a staggering array of Rhine Cat merchandise lining the shelves of that late-night toy store. The dream's bookstore, too, offered endless children's books, comics, and art anthologies featuring "Rhine Cat." While scanning these intangible references, Elias gathered a bottomless well of inspiration for designs.

Strangely, none of the dream's "historical" volumes ever mentioned the original creator by name. Multiple conflicting "origin stories" existed, each more fanciful than the last. It seemed the cat's real beginnings had been buried by six centuries of rumor and myth.

Still, Elias was content. He found genuine satisfaction crafting new expressions and expansions for Rhine Cat, fully aware that with every successful product, his own income soared—thanks to the licensing deal Ms. Harrington had granted him.

In the dream, he seldom bothered returning to the bank vault fiasco. On a few nights, he spotted glimpses of Claw leading Cipher into that battered van, a bizarre duo in comedic cosplay—cartoon cat and hero mask—heading off to stage another violent robbery.

"The world's so strange," Elias mused, focusing instead on the tasks at hand and trying not to dwell on the creeping sense of something bigger lurking in the background.

But there was another matter overshadowing these days: the World Cup final.

Just two nights away loomed the Argentina vs. France showdown. Elias's friend Gavin had already raked in tens of thousands from his earlier wagers, riding the improbable wave of Elias's dream-based predictions. Now, a feverish excitement emanated from him, a gambler's confidence that nothing could go wrong.

"All in!" Gavin crowed as they walked down a bustling street after a late-night snack. He brandished his phone to show the money transfer he'd just made. "Everything on Argentina!"

Elias glanced warily at the figure—sixty thousand.

"Gav, you can't keep risking everything in one go. This is insane."

But Gavin only puffed out his chest with the swagger of a new-money tycoon. "You saw how easy the last two matches were! We have your dream telling us Argentina takes the trophy, right? Didn't you say they beat France… with penalty kicks?"

Elias paused, recalling the exact phrasing from that dusty children's book.

"Yes. Penalty shootout. They beat France to claim the championship—so they must beat them in the final. That's what the dream said."

Thud!

Gavin slammed his palm against the lotto machine at a smoky corner betting shop, nearly making the clerk drop a stack of tickets.

"Wait!" Gavin cried, voice trembling as he pulled Elias aside. "You said penalty shootout? Right? Specifically that phrase?"

Elias nodded, mystified. "Yes, that's what it said in the dream. I'm not sure what it means exactly—some soccer tie-break thing?"

Gavin's breath came fast, eyes wild. "You have no idea how close I was to losing everything." He clutched Elias's shoulder. "If it's going to penalties, that means a draw at full time—maybe extra time, then spot kicks. The match result is still Argentina wins, but the exact method is crucial for the specialized bets. If I'd put money on them winning in normal time… and it goes to penalties, I'd be out of luck!"

Elias blinked. "I didn't know the difference was that big a deal."

"Are you kidding?!" Gavin hissed, trying to steady his heart rate. "The betting odds for 90-minute victory vs. winning after extra time or penalties can be completely different. I almost put the entire pot on a standard victory bet! That would have burned me if they only won in penalties…"

He spun around, shouting at the dazed clerk, "Hey, buddy—hold off on printing those! We need a different bet form."