Chapter 19: The Invitation

Elias stood rooted in the lobby, a swirl of chatter and footsteps echoing around him. And yet, all he could see—all he could feel—was the single, dark-red card in his hand. It bore three letters in pristine, golden script:

T.V.A?!

His heart fluttered in his chest, as if the world had turned paper-thin beneath his feet. Every mundane noise of the office—a phone ringing at reception, the shuffle of papers, a colleague's laughter—became distant, muffled. A tidal wave of déjà vu crashed over him, reminiscent of his nightly dream in which Claw ranted about finding a secret "TVA invitation."

How had something from his dream crossed into reality like this?

A brisk clicking of heels shattered the trance. Familiar words echoed behind him.

"What's going on? Why are you just standing there?"

Miranda Harrington stepped into his peripheral vision, wearing a sleek black coat that draped elegantly to her knees. Diamond studs sparkled at her ears, sending glints of refracted light dancing across the polished floor. She paused, her gaze flicking from Elias's stunned face to the plush in his grasp.

"Is that the new Rhine Cat sample?" she asked, arching a groomed brow. Without waiting for an answer, she reached out, gently scooping the fuzzy mascot from Elias's grip. "It's even cuter than I envisioned," she murmured, turning it over to examine its tiny tail. "If the factory can maintain this quality, we'll definitely keep using them."

Elias tried to force a nod or some semblance of agreement, but his mind remained tethered to the TVA letters, burning in his consciousness like an afterimage.

Ms. Harrington finally noticed his awkward stillness. She followed his line of sight to the dark-red envelope in his other hand. "This as well—something for me?" she inquired, tone curious but calm.

"Yes, Ms. Harrington," the receptionist chimed in quickly. "A lady came in earlier, specifically leaving that for you."

The young CEO took the envelope with the same unspoken confidence she exuded in all things. A quick glance at the front, a flick to the back—then she tucked it under her arm along with the plush. In a smooth pivot of her heels, she headed to the elevator.

Her departure was like a shift in the atmosphere. The front-desk staff resumed their chatter, showering Ms. Harrington with effusive praise: her poise, her fashion sense, her leadership. Elias heard every word as if from underwater. He stood there, both hands empty, but still feeling that phantom weight of the envelope in his fingers.

What if it isn't really an invitation?

He breathed a shaky sigh, trying to quell the tension gnawing at his gut. He had to find out.

***

Once in his own workspace, Elias gathered the latest Rhine Cat design drafts—he had planned to show them to Ms. Harrington anyway. With documents in hand, he made his way upstairs to the 22nd floor, stopping at the heavy, keypad-secured door. It hissed open on command.

Inside, Ms. Harrington's office was just as stark and immaculate as ever—no decorations, no personal flourishes, only a wide expanse of polished floor and a large desk overrun with neatly stacked files. Not a pillow, not a mug, nothing to hint at the occupant's personal life. If she spent any leisure time here, it left no trace.

"Good," she said briskly, glancing through the new materials Elias offered. "Proceed on schedule."

Slapping the folder shut, she returned it to him. Her eyes flicked up, sharp as a hawk's. "And? Any luck on Professor West?"

Elias took a breath. "I asked around," he began. On the subway that morning, he'd phoned an old academic advisor and some graduate students he knew. They'd filled him in on West's tragic motivation—his sole daughter, lying comatose for ten years after a catastrophic accident.

"He's certain no modern medicine can help her," Elias continued softly, "so his dream is to develop a cryonic approach to keep her 'asleep' until future medicine might save her."

Ms. Harrington frowned, pushing a stray wisp of dark hair behind her ear. "Reminds me of a sci-fi plot. Cryonics, future cures… People cling to hope. But in real life, there's no guarantee."

She let out a slow exhale, looking away for a heartbeat. "Well, I see why he won't sell his 'failed' compound. He's not in it for the money."

She bent over her desk again, flipping through more reports. "At some point, Elias, do buy a small gift and visit his daughter in the hospital. Show our support."

"Sure." Elias nodded, setting down his folder.

He cleared his throat, summoning the courage to broach the real reason for his visit.

"Oh—one last thing, Ms. Harrington," he said, feigning casualness. "About that red envelope you took alongside the plush—front desk mentioned a woman dropped it off. I, uh… forgot to tell you that earlier."

Her pen halted mid-signature. "That," she said, dismissive, "was simply an invitation."

She resumed signing. "Anything else?"

"N-no," Elias stammered, pulse racing. He'd half-expected her to shrug it off, but hearing the word "invitation" rattled him all the same.

Thunk.

The secure door sealed behind him as he stepped back into the corridor.

Elias paused outside her office, pressing a hand to his temple.

An invitation?

The same concept Claw had babbled about in the dream, except there it was a rumored letter from the TVA. Now, Ms. Harrington confirmed it was indeed some kind of formal invite.

Was it all a coincidence? The memory of that stylized "T.V.A" still seared his mind. Last night in the dream, Claw had died screaming about that secret authority. This morning, an actual "TVA invitation" had landed right in Ms. Harrington's hands.

He could feel a cold tendril of unease creeping through him. Maybe Gavin was right: real trouble started when dream stuff bled into the waking world.