Eidolon

Bjorn’s baritone brought both women back to the present. “And of course,” he continued his monologue about the architect, oblivious or uncaring of the undercurrents around the table, “Gustav also designed the main glass façade of the Helix Apex headquarters. He has a gift for making the impossible feel inevitable. Like it was always meant to be.”

Bjorn sighed contentedly, looking out at the domain of glass and stone, “To create such beauty, one must have both the vision to see it and the fortitude to endure the countless difficulties of bringing it to life. Much like any worthy endeavor, don’t you think, Rei?” 

Rei finally tore her gaze from the hypnotic movement of the bridge and the dizzying drop below their feet. She met Bjorn’s look, her own contemplative. “This place certainly is a technological marvel… but what impresses me most, is the simplicity of the design,” she said, her voice soft. Bjorn’s eyebrows lifted in anticipation of an elaboration, and Hikaso almost scoffed in surprise and Schadenfreude at Rei’s indelicate, easily offensive phrasing. 

Rei continued unbothered by both reactions, “It takes real genius to see the beauty in something preexisting and venture not to replicate it, but to highlight it. In constructing this…”, she offered a small, impressed smile, “…there was a huge risk of tainting the view, spoiling the innate beauty of this magical scenery. Despite that, Gustav Thorne managed to tap into the magic and enhance it, using a perfectly calibrated minimalistic design to make it visible and available to so many more people, like us. He clearly has an artist’s eye, as well as technical fortitude.” 

For a moment, Bjorn was utterly still, captivated by the observation. It sounded personal and spoke directly to the construction of both the restaurant and, he suspected, her own existence, partially trapped in a digital snowglobe. From the outside Rei might seem like a simple sensual model for the Eidolon construct, but she harboured so much more, like Himmelsalen’s deceptively unassuming architecture.

Hisako watched Rei’s confident face and she couldn’t bear it any longer. The poetic turn of phrase from the Chochin slut was the final straw. “A very artistic perspective,” she said, her voice slicing through the moment with polished venom, “Though I imagine the engineers and accountants wouldn’t call designing and building a sanctum in the sky a simple venture.” She gave a thin, humorless smile, aiming to reduce Rei’s comment to a frivolous, aesthetic fancy. The table went quiet. 

Bjorn’s congenial expression cooled by several degrees. Kazuo’s eyes narrowed at his assistant’s breach of polite protocol. Takumi’s hand, resting on the table, flexed once. Rei, however, simply turned her head and looked at Hisako. There was no anger in her face, only a calm, almost pitying understanding.

“I’m sure they would!”, Rei agreed, her tone perfectly pleasant, “The sign of true genius is often the ability to make something incredibly complex look somehow natural and easy. I’m certainly not claiming it’s effortless to find a natural marvel and build a sky around it, I’m just beyond impressed that Mr. Thorne was able to realise his vision this perfectly.” 

She held Hisako’s glare for a beat longer, then gracefully turned back to the view, as if the exchange had been as inconsequential as a comment on the weather. Bjorn’s smile returned, warmer than before. He raised his glass slightly in Rei’s direction, a silent toast. Kazuo gave an almost imperceptible warning-frown to Hisako, his assessment of Rei ticking upward another notch. She had parried a petty attack with unshakable poise. 

Hisako felt the heat of humiliation crawl up her neck. No one had come to her defense, no one had acknowledged her point about Rei’s initial rudeness. She was invisible, while the hostess held the room. Hisako stared down at her plate of exquisite food, stewing in a jealousy that was rapidly curdling into pure, undiluted hatred.

Takumi, across the table, allowed his gaze to study Rei in the reflection of the golden glass. He noted her quiet victory and restrained his own pride. The battle lines at lunch were not drawn in contracts, but in glances, whispers, and the devastating power of a perfect deflection. For now, Rei was holding her ground.

As Bjorn finished toasting to the future, officially welcoming them, he turned his attention to the whole table, graciously inviting them to decide the next subject for their dinner conversation. Hisako saw her second opening. “It’s fascinating, the directions modern entertainment is taking,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet.

She turned her gaze to Rei, “The Eidolon project is certainly bold. To build such an advanced simulation’s beta version around the sensual appeal of a single individual. It must be strange, Miss Morita, to have your entire professional value so intimately tied to… the avatar’s appeal. It’s quite a promotional transition from your previous work, I imagine.”

The insult was veiled, but the implication was clear: she was calling Rei a prostitute and Eidolon a digital brothel. Before Rei could formulate a response, or Takumi could come to her defense, Bjorn smoothly interceded. “Miss… Hisako was it? You misunderstand the project’s potential,” he chided gently, as if correcting a minor error, “The ‘sensual appeal’, as you put it, is merely the hook. The true innovation is the attempt to capture the behavior behind the beauty. Rei’s previous environment clearly honed a unique and valuable perspective on human desire and interaction – it’s that depth Takumi was clever enough to identify and harness… even if, to my preferences, his focus is rigidly fixated on the immediate financial profit predictions, rather than the wider technological possibility.”

He took a sip of his wine, his eyes meeting Takumi’s across the table with a glint of challenge, “It’s a shame the corporate structure doesn’t always allow for important innovation in the face of yearly benchmarks and pleasing one’s superiors.”

Bjorn had defended Rei and praised Takumi’s initial insight only to highlight his current lack of influence, all while shielding himself behind the guise of somewhat civil conversation.

The lunch was less a meal and more a chessboard, and Bjorn, with Rei as his unexpected queen, was attempting to maneuver Takumi into checkmate under the impassive gaze of the Kuroda king.

A flicker of lightning ignited in Takumi’s stormy eyes. He leaned forward, his voice carefully measured but edged with steel. “One does not preclude the other,” he stated, his gaze locking onto Bjorn, “Revolutionizing entertainment and maintaining realistic profit margins are not mutually exclusive. In fact, without a solid, financially viable structure, even the most ambitious research becomes nothing more than a line in the sand – grandiose for a moment, then swept away by the tide of…”

Kazuo Kuroda raised a single hand, a gesture of absolute authority that silenced the parties at the table as effectively as a shout. Takumi was cut off from finishing the thought, and all eyes turned to the patriarch.