The Fox And The Last Dragon

Kane dabbed a tiny amount on his neck, inhaling the complex scent of sandalwood, amber, and something distinctly otherworldly.

"Just enough to smell expensive," he murmured to his reflection, straightening his tie one last time.

Cyrus was already waiting by the door when Kane emerged from the bathroom, exhibiting effortless perfection.

The dragon wore a midnight blue suit that somehow both absorbed and reflected light, making him look both solid and ethereal.

Cyrus's nostrils flared slightly as Kane approached. His eyes narrowed, gaze traveling from Kane's polished shoes to his styled hair.

"You're wearing my cologne," he stated flatly.

Kane's ears twitched nervously. "Just a little. Figured I should smell the part."

Cyrus's gaze lingered another heartbeat before he turned toward the door.

"Ready?" Cyrus asked, adjusting his cufflinks.

Kane nodded, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

The elevator descended to the underground garage, opening to reveal a gleaming collection of automotive perfection.

Cyrus bypassed the Bentley from yesterday, heading instead toward a matte black Lamborghini Aventador.

"Seriously?" Kane's jaw dropped. "How many cars do you own?"

"Just enough." Cyrus pressed a fob, and the scissor doors rose with mechanical precision.

"That's not an answer." Kane sputtered.

Kane slid into the passenger seat, the leather interior cradling him like a second skin.

The engine roared to life—a sound that vibrated through his chest and sent his pulse racing.

They shot through the city, buildings blurring past as Cyrus navigated traffic with supernatural reflexes.

"A Bentley yesterday, a Lamborghini today. What's tomorrow, a rocket ship?" Kane quipped, trying to mask his nervousness.

Cyrus didn't answer, focused on the road ahead.

Minutes later, the Lamborghini glided to a stop before a towering glass monolith that pierced the skyline.

"Welcome to Veyr Corp," Cyrus said, tossing his keys to a waiting valet.

Kane stepped out, craning his neck to take in the full height of the building.

Sixty floors of gleaming glass and steel dominated the business district, the company logo—a stylized dragon—emblazoned near the top.

"That's... yours? It's… enormous," Kane whispered, suddenly feeling tiny.

Employees streamed through the revolving doors, a mix of humans and spirits moving with purpose.

"How many people work here?" Kane asked, eyes wide as they stepped into a private elevator.

"Four thousand, three hundred and twenty-seven," Cyrus answered without hesitation. "Plus contractors."

Kane swallowed hard. He'd severely underestimated the scale of what he was investigating.

"The lower forty floors are primarily human operations," Cyrus explained as the elevator climbed swiftly.

"Biotech research, logistics, financial services—all legitimate enterprises."

Kane watched the floor numbers tick upward, noting the sophisticated security systems embedded in the elevator's design.

"And the upper floors?" he asked, trying to sound merely curious rather than investigative.

"Reserved for spirit affairs." Cyrus's reflection in the polished doors revealed nothing.

"Humans aren't permitted beyond the fortieth floor without special clearance and protective measures."

Kane raised an eyebrow. "Protective measures?"

"The ambient magic would kill them within minutes." Cyrus stated this matter-of-factly, as if discussing the weather.

"We handle inter-realm contracts, artifact containment, and spirit arbitration up there."

Kane's eyes expanded in surprise. "That's a lot of spirits under one roof."

"The separation is practical, not hierarchical. Humans generally prefer not to know that their coworker occasionally transforms into a six-headed serpent during lunch breaks.

As they passed floor fifty, the elevator's glass walls cleared, revealing a breathtaking panoramic view of the city.

Kane pressed his palm against the glass, momentarily forgetting his mission as the sprawling metropolis stretched beneath them.

"The glass is enchanted," Cyrus noted.

"Humans see only reflective surfaces from the outside. It prevents awkward questions about employees with wings."

The elevator slowed at floor fifty-nine, doors opening to reveal a bustling office space.

Kane glimpsed a woman with translucent skin speaking to a man whose shadow moved independently from his body.

The spirits stopped mid-conversation, heads turning in perfect synchronization as Cyrus stepped from the elevator.

A ripple of deference spread through the office—backs straightening, voices lowering to respectful murmurs.

"Good morning, Mr. Drakhal," a woman with pearlescent scales along her cheekbones greeted, her eyes carefully avoiding direct contact.

Cyrus acknowledged the greetings with the barest nod as he strode forward.

Kane trailed in his wake. The fox spirit felt the weight of curious stares, whispers followed them like shadows.

Cyrus led Kane through a labyrinth of desks and meeting spaces, past spirits of every imaginable form, trying to appear busy while stealing glances at the unlikely pair.

They reached a set of imposing black double doors at the far end of the floor. Cyrus pressed his palm against an embedded scanner, and the doors swung open silently.

Kane's breath caught as he stepped into Cyrus's office.

The space was vast, minimalist, and dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows that offered an unobstructed view of the city sprawled below.

Morning light poured in, illuminating a massive desk carved from a single piece of obsidian.

Kane circled slowly, taking in the meticulous organization of Cyrus's domain.

A single bonsai tree, ancient and perfectly maintained, sat on a pedestal near the windows—the only softness in a room defined by sharp angles and monochromatic precision.

"This is..." Kane gestured vaguely, ears twitching with impressed surprise.

"Exactly what I'd expect from you, actually. Very dragon's lair meets Fortune 500."

Cyrus moved to his desk, setting down a slim leather portfolio.

"Where will I be working?" Kane asked, trying to imagine himself perched on some tiny desk in the corner of this intimidating space.

Cyrus crossed to the left wall and pressed his palm against what appeared to be a solid surface. A hidden door slid open silently.

"Here," he said, gesturing Kane inside.

The adjacent office was smaller but elegantly appointed—a glass desk, ergonomic chair, and state-of-the-art computer system awaited.

Natural light streamed through windows, offering the same spectacular view.

Kane ran his fingers over the desk's surface.

"Has this been empty long?"

A thin layer of dust had settled on the shelves, despite the room's overall cleanliness.

Kane opened a drawer, finding it stocked with pristine office supplies.

The top shelf held a stack of Veyr Corp letterhead and a dust cloth. He grabbed the cloth and began wiping down surfaces, sending tiny dust particles dancing in the sunlight.

As he cleaned the bookshelf, his hand bumped something that clattered to the floor.

Kane bent to retrieve it—a silver frame that had been lying face-down behind a row of reference books.

He turned it over and froze.