Ezra still wasn’t used to the power that came with the White Card.

  He wasn’t used to stepping off private jets like he belonged there. He wasn’t used to people addressing him as an equal in corporate environments. And he definitely wasn’t used to being personally greeted by the head of one of the most powerful industries on Earth.

  Yet, here he was. Mr. Key stood waiting for him at the entrance of Key Industries, his usual confident smirk in pce. "Welcome to your future, Ezra."

  Ezra let out a slow breath, taking in the titan of a building before him—a masterpiece of cutting-edge architecture, filled with impossible technology, its presence alone radiating power and control.

  Even though he had spent years preparing for this, something about being here for real made it more intimidating than any exam he had ever taken.

  And yet—It was also thrilling.

  Mr. Key personally led Ezra through the sprawling facility, and with every door that opened, his world expanded further.

  "This," Mr. Key gestured toward the first b, "is our materials division. The strongest alloys in the sor system? The ones keeping orbital colonies intact? The hulls of space stations? All tested and perfected here."

  Through the reinforced gss, Ezra saw scientists running simutions on metallic structures exposed to intense gravitational fields—watching as matter bent and reformed under forces humanity had only begun to understand.

  Mr. Key moved on, leading him through sleek white corridors, past employees in pristine suits and White-Coat researchers moving between projects.

  They entered another sector of the facility, and Mr. Key gestured outward. "And this? Our graviton wave research sector."

  Ezra’s eyes widened as he saw massive containment rings suspended in a zero-g chamber. He had read about this—graviton fields being maniputed to store and extract energy at unfathomable scales. "We’re currently stabilizing a way to make graviton waves more efficient in energy transfer, potentially eliminating waste losses in antimatter reactors. If successful, we could increase global power output by another 30% in a single decade."

  Ezra let out a slow whistle. This wasn’t just science for the sake of knowledge. This was humanity’s future being rewritten in real-time.

  At the final stop of the tour, Mr. Key led him to a high-tech facility located at the heart of the research division. The door slid open automatically, and Ezra’s breath hitched. It was his own personal b. Not just a workstation.

  A full-fledged, state-of-the-art b, equipped with quantum processing arrays, material synthesizers, energy field projectors, and every piece of cutting-edge technology he could dream of. It was his pyground now.

  Ezra stepped inside, running his fingers over the smooth interface of the main control panel.

  "You’ve got free rein," Mr. Key said, watching him carefully. "Whatever research you pursue, the resources are yours."

  Ezra turned to him. "And what exactly do you need me to do?"

  Mr. Key smiled. "That, Ezra, you’ll figure out soon enough. Get settled first. WCU was just education. The real work is only just starting."

  Ezra’s pulse quickened. This was real. This wasn’t just theoretical studies or tests designed to mess with his head. This was humanity’s next leap forward—and now, he was a part of it.

  As Mr. Key turned to leave, he paused at the doorway. "When you're done moving in, meet me at the b at the base of Mt. Fuji."

  Ezra raised a brow. "What for?"

  Mr. Key smirked. "Let’s just say… it’s time you see things for yourself."

  With that, he walked away, leaving Ezra alone in his new domain—his mind racing with possibilities, dangers, and the feeling that whatever came next… It was going to change everything.

  Ezra had seen a lot of ridiculous things in his life.

  He had survived White-Coat University, where logic had been optional and exams had been a fever dream of nonsense and hidden truths. He had flown in a private jet like it was just another Tuesday, watching the world shrink below him as reality continued to warp in ways he never expected. He had stood in his own personal boratory, fully stocked, fully equipped, realizing that he had power and resources beyond anything he’d ever dreamed of.

  And yet—Nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the moment Mr. Key led him into the research division’s main engineering wing and introduced him to his competition.

  A kid.

  An actual fucking child.

  Ezra stared. Then stared harder, waiting for the punchline.

  The boy standing across from him was small, barely up to his chest, with sharp eyes, a cocky grin, and a head full of neatly combed dark hair. His White-Coat uniform was custom-fitted, sleeves rolled up just slightly, like he had tailors that actually cared about fashion even in a b setting.

  He had no business being here. Ezra’s brow furrowed, his gaze flicking to Mr. Key. "Uhh… hey, uh. Someone lost their kid in here?"

  Mr. Key smirked. "No, Ezra. That’s Haruto Kim."

  Ezra’s stomach dropped. "Come again?"

  The boy’s grin widened. He stepped forward, extending a small hand. "Haruto Kim. Haru, for short. I’ve heard about you, Mr. Key."

  Ezra didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Because what the actual fuck was happening? He hesitated—slowly, cautiously—before shaking the kid’s hand. It was firm, confident, not at all like a kid shaking hands with an adult. It was the handshake of someone who knew exactly who they were and had nothing to prove. Ezra pulled his hand back, looking to Mr. Key again. "So you’re telling me," he said slowly, voice dangerously calm, "that this is my competition?"

  Mr. Key nodded, completely unfazed. "That’s correct."

  Ezra exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "How in the fuck?"

  Haru, still grinning, rocked on his heels. "You’re not the first person to ask that."

  Ezra gnced at him, scowling. "You’re supposed to be in elementary school."

  Haru shrugged. "I passed with flying colors at another WCU branch. The Asian division."

  Ezra clenched his jaw. "Of course you did."

  He knew White-Coat University was insane, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that other branches existed. Of course they did. Haru wasn’t just some prodigy randomly inserted into the ranks. He had been groomed for this from the start. Ezra inhaled deeply, trying to process this absurd reality. "So what, you built your first circuit board when you were five?"

  "Nine," Haru corrected. "And it wasn’t just a circuit board."

  Ezra squinted. "What then?"

  "A graviton battery-handling robot."

  Ezra almost choked. "You built a robot for graviton handling when YOU WERE NINE!?!?"

  Haru nodded. "Yeah, well. Someone had to. The original designs were inefficient. You wouldn’t believe how much output was lost due to minor vibration distortions in early handling systems."

  Ezra was going to throw up. He turned to Mr. Key, ready to protest, ready to rage about the absolute unfairness of the universe—but Mr. Key was already smirking, as if he had been waiting for this moment. Ezra gritted his teeth.

  "You’re telling me," he said through clenched jaw, "that this child is the one I’m supposed to be competing against for succession?"

  Mr. Key simply nodded. Ezra was going to lose his goddamn mind. Ezra wanted to scream when he heard the next part. Not only was Haru his rival for succession, but they would be sharing the same b. Ezra pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply, trying to control the absolute frustration bubbling inside him.

  "I hate working with kids," he muttered under his breath.

  Haru, who absolutely heard that, just grinned wider. "I’m not a kid. I’m a scientist."

  Ezra gred at him. "You are literally a child."

  "Yeah," Haru admitted with a shrug. "But I could probably build something to make you say otherwise."

  Ezra let out a dry ugh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh, fantastic. I’m living a cruel joke. Worse than White-Coat University."

  Haru tilted his head. "You’re taking this awfully personally. What, you scared of being shown up by an eleven-year-old?"

  Ezra’s eye twitched. He had worked with kids before. Stupid kids. The kind that got in the way on construction sites, the kind that didn’t listen and caused messes for everyone else to clean up. This was a different breed of hell entirely. But before Ezra could actually say something he’d regret, Mr. Key raised a hand. "Enough."

  The command in his voice was firm but calm, carrying absolute authority, and both Ezra and Haru immediately went quiet.Mr. Key turned to Ezra, his expression neutral but pointed. "I understand your frustration. But I need you to understand something clearly, Ezra." He gestured toward Haru. "You may not like working with kids. But Haruto Kim is not to be taken lightly."

  Ezra exhaled sharply, looking between them. Then, reluctantly, he swallowed his pride. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it. But there was no fighting this. For now, he was stuck with Haru.

  And whether he liked it or not—He was going to have to figure out how to work with him.

  Ezra had been mentally preparing himself to work with Haru, telling himself that if he could survive White-Coat University, he could survive anything.

  He was wrong.

  Haru was an absolute menace.

  Not in a destructive, reckless way—no, that would have been easier to deal with. The problem was that Haru was just too damn good at everything. Ezra walked into their shared b, ready to make his first mark on Key Industries. He had a solid project in mind, something useful, something that could revolutionize industrial and emergency applications.

  A tractor beam.

  He wasted no time sketching out early designs, drawing up blueprints in the air using the interactive holographic dispys. A device capable of generating a controlled graviton field, one that could pull in objects remotely, suspend them in pce, maybe even tow massive structures in space.

  "This," Ezra muttered to himself, energized by the idea, "this is what I need to start with. Something big. Something useful."

  Then a voice piped up behind him. "Oh, you wanna build a tractor beam?"

  Ezra froze, blinking at the sound of Haru’s cheerful voice. Haru was lounging upside-down in a rolling chair, rocking back and forth with his hands behind his head, looking unbothered, amused. Ezra frowned. "Yeah? You got a problem with that?"

  Haru shrugged. "Not really. Just curious why you wanna build something I already made two years ago."

  Ezra’s eye twitched. Of course he did.

  Haru hopped up from the chair—flipping effortlessly as he nded on his feet—and gestured toward one of the b’s storage compartments. "Check drawer 3B," he said casually.

  Ezra, skeptical but too annoyed to argue, opened the drawer—And there it was.

  A fully functioning tractor beam unit, compact, sleek, and already designed to perfection. Haru beamed at him, looking proud. "Neat, huh?"

  Ezra smmed the drawer shut.

  "Fine," he muttered. "Pn B." Ezra wasn’t going to let some overachieving child stop him.

  He pivoted, moving to his next brilliant idea. Repulsor boots. A set of gravity-defying footwear that could reverse pority at will, allowing someone to walk on walls, ceilings, or any surface imaginable. Perfect for construction, repairs in low gravity, military applications, and extreme sports.

  It would be a game-changer. He barely had time to get the blueprints open before something caught his eye. A shadow moved along the ceiling. Ezra looked up—And there was Haru, casually walking upside-down, hands in his coat pockets, completely unbothered.

  "Sup?" Haru grinned.

  Ezra’s entire soul left his body. "You have GOT to be kidding me."

  Haru hopped off the ceiling, flipping midair before nding on the ground like it was nothing.

  "Yeah, anti-grav boots," Haru said, pointing at his shoes. "Made ‘em when I was eight. Not my best work, honestly, but they get the job done."

  Ezra, for a long moment, just stood there. Then he dragged a hand down his face, groaning. "Okay, Pn C, then."

  Haru tilted his head. "Ooo, we’re doing pns now? I like this."

  Ezra gritted his teeth. "Shut up." Fine. Fine.

  Tractor beam? Already done.Anti-gravity boots? Already done.

  But there was one more idea Ezra had in mind. Something unique, something that hadn’t been made before—A gravity radiator.

  A device that could manipute gravitational forces to condense heat energy, then release it in controlled bursts for propulsion, environmental control, or even potential terraforming applications.

  This was it. Ezra turned, ready to throw himself into the calcutions—And then he shivered. The temperature in the b had dropped significantly. Ezra frowned. "Why is it so cold all of a sudden?" Then he heard a faint whoosh above him. He slowly looked up.

  And there was Haru again—floating midair, casually zipping around the b using a gravity radiator strapped to his back like a jetpack.

  "Yo, what’s up?" Haru called out as he glided past, leaving a thin trail of cold air in his wake.

  Ezra’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might shatter. "You built a gravity radiator," he said, voice ft, dead inside.

  Haru grinned. "Yeah! It’s fun! Want one?"

  Ezra closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. And seriously contempted unching this child into the sun. Haru nded gracefully, tapping a few controls on his wristband to power down his gravity jetpack before stretching his arms. Ezra, meanwhile, was having an existential crisis.

  This b was supposed to be his dream come true.

  A pce where he could finally build and innovate freely, where he could create things no one had ever seen before. And instead—He was stuck sharing a workspace with an eleven-year-old prodigy who had already built every single thing he had ever wanted to invent.

  Haru, sensing the frustration, nudged him pyfully. "You look stressed," he said. "You wanna go lie down? Maybe have a juice box?"

  Ezra turned slowly. "Haru," he said, voice dangerously calm, "I am going to strangle you."

  Haru giggled, completely unfazed. "You’ll have to catch me first!"

  And with that, he flipped back onto the ceiling, hanging upside-down again like an annoying little goblin. Ezra groaned, slumping into his chair. This was going to be the longest year of his life.