Jack saw the way their eyes darted over him, how their posture shifted from containment mode to uncertain caution. "Ma'am, is there a problem?" one of them asked, though there was less authority in his voice now.
His voice had that particular quality of someone trained to project confidence while secretly hoping nothing goes sideways on their shift. The universal prayer of security personnel everywhere: "Just let me make it to the end of my shift without an incident that requires paperwork."
Mindy, to her credit, was quick on the recovery. "No, no, this isn't him." The guards' expressions flickered -not him, but…? "This is his cousin," she clarified. Then, turning back to Jack, she hesitated. "And your name was…?"
The momentary uncertainty in her voice revealed the tiny gap in his performance -the one detail he'd craftily withheld to create exactly this moment of connection, this opportunity for her to ask him directly. Social engineering was just another form of magic, after all.
He offered a slow, easy smile. The kind that disarmed. That made people want to trust him. The kind that had gotten him out of more trouble than he could count on a pair of exploding percentile dice. "Oh yeah, sorry," he said, as if he had just forgotten to introduce himself. "Jack. You can call me Jack."
"Jack," she repeated, almost testing the name on her tongue. Her lips parted slightly in appreciation. It suited him. Too well. Her pulse visibly fluttered at her throat. Hook. Line. Sinker.
Jack saw it, and he smirked slightly, tilting his head as if he were entirely amused by the situation. He turned his attention back to the two guards, who were still watching him carefully. "I'm assuming you're here to escort me to see my cousin?" He let that last word linger, allowing the weight of it to convince them that it was the right thing to do.
The guards exchanged looks, uncertain. They were waiting for confirmation. Jack resisted the urge to chuckle. This was almost too easy.
Almost disappointingly easy, really. After years of navigating the political intrigues of realms where a misplaced eyeblink could start an interspecies war, this felt like playing chess against a particularly unambitious goldfish. The Otherworld had spoiled him for challenge.
Mindy, now thoroughly caught in his rhythm, nodded a little too quickly. "Yes," she said, breathless. Then, flustered, she corrected herself. "I mean -yes, of course. Right away." She was so desperate to appear competent that she wasn't even questioning herself anymore.
Poor Mindy, caught in the gravitational pull of a man who'd learned charisma from creatures that could charm the stars from the sky. Corporate training manuals didn't exactly cover "How to Maintain Professional Composure When Confronted With Interdimensional Returnees."
Jack pressed the advantage. He moved deliberately, leaning in just slightly, lowering his voice as if he were letting her in on a secret. He placed a light touch on her hand -just the briefest press of fingers against her skin. Contact. A direct line to every nerve in her body.
A touch that contained echoes of other worlds, of magic that once flowed through his veins, of power beyond Earth-human comprehension -all compressed into a single point of contact that her nervous system registered not as supernatural but as inexplicably magnetic. Some part of her brain recognized the otherness in him, even if her conscious mind couldn't name it.
Mindy froze. Jack watched her eyes flick down to the connection, a visible shiver running through her. Then she looked back up, locking eyes with him. Her pupils dilated. Her breath hitched. Her pulse raced. There it is.
The universal reaction to brushing against something larger than yourself -the same look he'd seen on the faces of humans who accidentally stumbled into fairy rings, who caught glimpses of creatures moving between shadows, or felt the sudden, irresistible pull of attraction toward a stranger they'd just met; the kind of encounter that, for one brief and breathless moment, touched the infinite, leaving them to spend the rest of their lives chasing that elusive spark.
That moment. That chemical spark of uncertainty, attraction, and adrenaline all colliding at once. Jack smiled. Just a little -a smirk really. Just enough to let her know he saw everything. "Listen, Mindy," he said smoothly. "Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it." She swallowed hard and nodded.
Her throat bobbed like she was trying to swallow not just saliva but the sudden realization that her day had veered wildly off its predictable trajectory. Monday morning: coffee, emails, spreadsheets. Afternoon surprise: encounter with a man who radiated the quiet intensity of someone who'd seen the end of worlds and lived to tell about it. And damn, was he so my type.
"I'm sure Jacob will give you a bonus or something for helping me so quickly," he added, throwing in just the right amount of conspiratorial charm. She nodded automatically. "Yeah," she murmured, her voice almost dreamy. "Yeah… he… might."
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Her voice had that particular quality of someone who's just been hit by the conversational equivalent of a tranquilizer dart laced with love potion number 9 -all systems operational but running at half-speed, reality slightly soft around the edges.
Reining in his charisma -with a lower case C-, Jack pulled his hand away as if it had never been there. Then, without another glance, he turned to the two guards. "After you, fellas."
Let's get this show on the road, his posture said, the casual confidence of someone who'd crashed more exclusive parties than these guys had security clearances. The Otherworld's most exclusive nightclub had bouncers who could literally see your soul's worthiness glowing around you like an aura -after that, human security measures seemed like child's locks on a cabinet.
The guards hesitated for just a second too long. They were still processing. Still adjusting. Sure that they should object, but unsure how -and whether it was even their place to. But in the end, their orders were clear. Escort Jacob Emrys' cousin to the CEO's office.
And just like that, the gatekeepers became the escort service, the barriers became the pathway. The classic irony of security systems everywhere -designed to keep people out, but once you're deemed acceptable, they become your personal usher service, guiding you directly to the heart of what they were supposed to protect.
Jack walked past Mindy without looking back, but he felt her gaze on him. The kind of gaze that was half confusion, half hunger. Like a cat eyeing a can of its favorite food left unopened on the counter. And Jack? He was having fun.
Not for the first time since returning to this world of concrete and commerce, of digital distraction, Jack felt the familiar thrill of the game. It wasn't the high-stakes survival of the Otherworld and its dungeons, where a misstep could cost you your soul, but it was something. A pale echo of the dance he'd learned among monsters and myths, but a dance nonetheless.
The elevator awaited, its doors sliding open like the maw of a mechanical beast ready to swallow him whole and carry him upward to his confrontation with the man who'd stolen his life.
At the time, Jack was still so freshly arrived to the world, that he had not yet shed the skin of his former self. His former life. In this world he no longer had to be the predator. He was no longer a member of the Dungeon Corps. There he had lost everything; here he was trying to rebuild himself anew.
But old habits die hard.
Time to see how the other me lives, he thought. Taking a breath, Jack stepped into the elevator, his two escorts flanking him.
The doors closed, and Jack's reflection smiled back at him from the polished metal -a smile that contained worlds of knowledge no human was meant to possess, and the unmistakable glint of someone who was exactly where they wanted to be.
∞
As the elevator traveled, he contemplated the two sentinels who stood like silent statues to either side. They were big guys. Well-muscled, well-trained -but not warriors. Not like him. Oh, they'd seen combat. He could tell that much. But it was of a different sort than he was used to.
They were the kind of men whose LinkedIn profiles probably listed "Executive Protection Specialist" but whose real résumés consisted of bar brawls, backroom beatdowns, and maybe that one time they worked security at a Taylor Swift concert and had to tackle an overenthusiastic fan. The human equivalent of those fancy guard dogs that look impressive but would absolutely roll over for a belly rub if you offered them a treat.
Jack's eyes flicked over their knuckles -one had calloused, scarred hands, the kind that had seen too many bar fights and not enough battlefield discipline. The other? A nose that had been broken and re-broken at least twice. They weren't amateurs. Just not killers.
Not that it mattered. Jack had once played chess against a giantess with pieces carved from the bones of creatures whose very names could cause aneurysms if pronounced correctly. He'd learned combat from beings who considered five simultaneous dimensions the bare minimum for a proper tactical approach. These guys were playing paddy-cake compared to the monsters he'd waltzed with.
They carried themselves well, though. Moved like men who knew violence but weren't born in it. Each was armed, of course -concealed sidearms, tactical knives, maybe something extra tucked away for emergencies.
Jack gave a small, nearly imperceptible nod of approval. For a man who supposedly ran one of the biggest megacorporations on the planet, Jack could tell Jacob wasn’t just some billionaire playboy with a big head. And he wasn’t stupid.
Though to be fair, when you're worth more than the GDP of several small nations combined, hiring competent security was probably about as difficult as ordering takeout. "Yes, I'd like two ex-special forces with a side of corporate loyalty, hold the moral compass. Deliver to the top floor, please."
There was a time when he would occasionally wonder what his life would have been like if he had not been Isekai’d to the Otherworld. But now? Now the fear of forever losing what he had given up on Earth was gone.
He shook his head and pushed that thought aside.
Instead he shifted his attention back to the world his ‘brother’ had built.
The elevator dinged softly, doors sliding open to reveal the top floor. Wall-to-wall windows.
The way the architects had designed it, you'd think glass was the newest fad. The place was practically a greenhouse for ego cultivation -perfect temperature, maximum exposure, and enough reflective surfaces to ensure you never forgot your own face.
The skyline of New York City stretched endlessly before him, glass and steel catching the sun in shimmering brilliance. A kingdom of titans.
From this height, the city looked like a circuit board designed by gods with a drinking problem -chaotic but functional, beautiful but dangerous. The kind of view that made you understand why people with money always wanted to be higher than everyone else. Not just metaphorically, but literally above the rest of humanity. Like a god of Olympus.
Jack let out a slow exhale. It was impressive. He felt a degree of admiration creep in, despite himself.
The only thing close to this in the Otherworld had been the crystal spires of the winter Fae’Ri. Ethereal, ancient, and cold in their perfection.
Those towers had been grown, not built -coaxed from the dreams of mountains, each facet encoding memories that would drive human minds to whimsy. Jack had spent three weeks in one once, a guest (or prisoner, depending on your perspective) of a Fae’Ri Lord whose name translated roughly to "He Who Dances Between Moments When No One Is Looking." By the time he left, Jack had developed synesthesia that made him taste colors whenever he heard music. It had taken months to fade.
This? This was different. This was power built by money and wealth.
Human power. The kind that couldn't rewrite reality or bend time, but could absolutely reshape the world through sheer force of will and obscene amounts of capital. Perhaps less mystical, but in some ways more terrifying for its simplicity.
He shoved the thought down and followed his escort.
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