jeremy chapy :
The week went by in a blur. Between the final adjustments on the TITAN-size celestial ring machine and the relentless intensity of Natali's training, my days were packed.
If everything went well, the machine would be operational by the time I returned from the UN conference. But until then, I had to grit my teeth and endure Natali's merciless lessons on political ethics, diplomatic vocabulary, and the colossal stakes awaiting me.
I was finishing my packing before my imminent departure for Switzerland, where I would have to present my projects before the 190 member states.
Just thinking about it made the pressure rise, but I didn't have a choice.
My daughter, ever by my side, would accompany me throughout the journey through the tablet. This project was as much hers as mine, and I wanted her to share this moment with me—even from afar.
As I checked my belongings one last time, the doorbell rang at the warehouse. Iris, always attentive, went to open it. After a brief exchange, she called out:
"Father, you have a visitor."
I stepped out of my room, intrigued, only to see Pavel standing in the entrance. His presence took me by surprise. He walked toward me, and immediately I sensed a heavy tension in the air.
We greeted each other with a handshake, but his expression was far more somber than usual.
His blunt tone caught me off guard.
"Pavel, I wanted to say—" I began, but he cut me off, his stern gaze locking onto mine.
"I understand what you're doing, and why," he said, voice firm. "You explained enough during that evening. I'm sorry for reacting coldly, but she's my daughter. I love her. And your remedy, Jeremy…"
He paused, his eyes darkening.
"…it's torture before anything else."
His words hit me like a blow. I knew this conversation would be difficult, but hearing it out loud, so directly, still stung. He continued, voice tense but trembling with contained emotion:
"The only reason I accepted… is because of her. She told me she was ready to do anything to live the life she wants, and I can't deny her that. But don't think for a second this was an easy decision."
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his declaration.
"That's why I hesitated to show you those videos," I replied sincerely. "I wanted to be transparent with you—to make sure you were prepared for what it implies."
Pavel studied me for a moment, then slowly nodded, as though weighing each word before letting it leave his mouth.
"Thank you. For being honest, even though it was hard. But Jeremy… promise me something."
He stepped closer and gripped my shoulder, his voice trembling:
"Do everything in your power to make sure she survives. I'm entrusting you with the most precious thing I have."
I placed a firm hand on his shoulder, trying to give him some reassurance.
"I promise, Pavel. I'll do everything possible to make it succeed. I won't take any unnecessary risks."
He nodded silently, emotions swirling behind his eyes. He stepped back, maybe to hide how much this was affecting him.
Iris, who had been observing from a distance, approached gently. Her movements carried that natural sensitivity she expressed so well despite her mechanical form.
"Thank you for making that decision," she told him softly. "We know it wasn't easy. It means a lot to us."
Pavel offered a faint smile, clearly moved, but his gaze soon returned to me—grave, direct.
"Jeremy… know this: I'll never forget what we've been through together. But I'll say it plainly… if I lose my daughter because of this…"
He paused, the words catching in his throat.
"…I could never forgive you."
The weight of his declaration fell on me like a slab of stone.
I didn't try to answer—no answer would have been enough.
I simply nodded, accepting that responsibility fully.
He left the warehouse then, his back slightly hunched under the emotional burden he carried.
I stood there, frozen, staring into nothing. His words echoed within me—a harsh reminder of the stakes.
Iris came closer and gently took my hand with her mechanical pincer. Her touch was cold, but the comfort it brought was exactly what I needed.
I took a deep breath, forcing my thoughts into order.
I had come too far to turn back now.
I had a world to convince, and promises to keep. Failure wasn't an option.
Once the preparations were done, I said goodbye to Evangelyne and Adamai before leaving.
My daughter stayed connected through the tablet, accompanying me through this crucial transition.
Natali awaited me outside the base, standing impeccably straight as always. She greeted me with the respectful gesture she had drilled into me these past days, insisting that from now on, every move I made had to be flawless—something that made me grimace inwardly.
And then… I saw it.
My sworn enemy.
A commercial airplane.
Parked on the tarmac.
Ready for takeoff.
My heart tightened at the idea of stepping into that flying coffin.
But Natali—faithful to her role as my relentless instructor—positioned herself strategically at the foot of the stairs, waiting.
I quickly understood she intended to play her part to the fullest… meaning I had no choice.
She extended her arm slightly, an enigmatic smile on her lips.
"Mr. Chapi, your arm, please," she said with studied elegance.
Resigned, I offered her my right arm, letting her take it as though she actually needed support.
"Thank you, dear," she added with playful arrogance—right before discreetly pinching my arm to force me up the stairs.
Despite my dread of entering the aircraft, I followed her lead, climbing step by step.
Halfway up, she stopped abruptly, turned toward me, and said in a serious tone:
"Remember: upon arrival, there will likely be journalists.
Greet them with confidence."
I humored her, raising my hand and waving at… an almost empty tarmac.
Aside from the six soldiers present, there wasn't a soul in sight.
Yet Natali kept her composed, diplomatic expression, as if this were perfectly normal.
Only once I had completed the gesture did she let me board the plane.
Inside, I took my seat while she sat beside me.
The Assembly awaited me—with everything that entailed.
Natali reviewed the travel plan and essential points one more time.
In her great generosity, she even granted me a moment to rest, which allowed me to catch up on my sleep.
The turbulence woke me abruptly.
Through the window, I saw the runway unfolding below us.
We had arrived in Switzerland.
As the soft hum of the engines faded, I waited for permission to stand, then headed to the restroom to freshen up and chase away the last traces of fatigue.
When I returned, Natali's sharp, vigilant gaze met mine.
"President Atlas is already here to welcome us," she said.
"Please respect the protocol I taught you."
His words triggered a subtle tension within me. Seeing President Atlas again brought back memories of that unusual journey we had shared: a diplomatic man, a psychologist at heart, capable of reading people with disarming ease… and someone who knew Séléné.
That alone placed him in the very small circle of people I could actually trust.
The aircraft doors finally opened, and the first rays of daylight flooded the Swiss tarmac.
A crowd of journalists had gathered around the car waiting to escort us, their cameras and flashes creating a visual storm despite the soft morning light.
At the bottom of the stairs, I immediately spotted President Atlas, standing still and serene—his legendary composure almost palpable.
I descended the steps with Natali at my side, her hand elegantly gripping my arm in a perfect imitation of the diplomatic facade we were meant to embody.
Once on the ground, she greeted the president with her usual elegance, and I did the same, bowing my head slightly in respect.
A few words were exchanged before we posed for the official photos. Flash after flash exploded in front of us, capturing every expression, every detail.
When the photo session ended, we entered the waiting car. The interior—spacious and softly lit—offered a brief moment of calm away from the frenzy outside.
"It's even worse than I imagined," I admitted, thinking back to the sea of journalists swarming our arrival.
Atlas gave me a knowing smile.
"And this is only the beginning, Jérémy. Your attendance is highly anticipated. I've spoken with several world leaders since our last meeting—curiosity about you is immense."
Natali, leaning back into her seat, added in a slightly teasing tone:
"I just hope you won't make any blunders. That would be… unfortunate."
I turned to her with an amused smile. Over the past few days, she had changed.
More relaxed. Almost… supportive.
Perhaps she had finally begun seeing me as something other than a disruption to her meticulously ordered world.
"Don't worry," I replied. "I'll do my best not to cause trouble. But… the package I sent—did it arrive?"
"No issues," Atlas answered with a discreet smile. "It's waiting for us in the reception hall, under heavy guard, I assure you."
"Perfect. It should be enough to convince them."
"So that package is indeed what I suspected?" Atlas asked.
"Yes, exactly. It matches the details of the report I sent you," Natali replied.
"I'd very much like to witness the next one you create," Atlas added with amusement. "From what I was told, it was impressive."
"It would be my pleasure to demonstrate it to you, Mr. President," I said.
We continued discussing various matters as the car made its way toward our destination.
Atlas, in his usual fashion, listened attentively, patiently absorbing every detail of what we had prepared.
He had this rare ability to make you feel heard—even when the world around you was burning.
Taking advantage of the quiet moment, I pulled out my tablet and turned it on.
The screen lit up, revealing Iris's smiling face almost instantly.
"Mr. President, allow me to officially introduce my daughter, Iris," I said with a slight bow.
Atlas raised an eyebrow, intrigued, then a warm smile spread across his face.
"It is an honor to meet you, Miss Iris—even through a screen," he said with genuine calm.
Iris, immaculate in a three-piece suit perfectly matched to mine, answered with a natural elegance:
"Thank you, Mr. President. The honor is mine. I hope I'll have the opportunity to collaborate with you in the future—beyond this little virtual introduction."
Atlas let out a soft, benevolent laugh.
"You have ambition, young lady, and I respect that. You seem to share your father's drive and determination."
Through the screen, I could almost feel Iris's pride, though she masked it behind her composed demeanor.
"We've worked together from the very beginning. Everything you'll see in the coming days is the product of our combined efforts," she added.
Natali watched the scene silently, her eyes sharp and thoughtful. I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind as she analyzed each detail.
Atlas, meanwhile, appeared genuinely impressed.
"You're lucky, Jérémy—to have such support. A young and brilliant mind can often surpass years of experience."
I nodded with a smile.
"I wouldn't be here without the people who believed in me—and those, like you, who helped me when I needed it."
Atlas replied, his tone softening:
"You know exactly why I'm helping you—and why I trust you. But I'm also limited in what I can do."
"Believe me, what you've already done is enormous," I said.
"I agree," Iris added. "Without you, I might never have found my father again."
We both bowed our heads respectfully to thank him.
Atlas lifted his hands, embarrassed.
"Alright, enough of that. You're going to make me uncomfortable. And don't forget—this is also an agreement between us."
"Yes, I know," I answered. "And we will repay what we owe."
I thought I heard Natali sigh quietly beside me—the mention of our expenses clearly still vexed her.
The car continued its journey while we finalized the organization of the conference.
We refined certain details, particularly identifying which countries might support our initiative—or oppose it—based on Atlas's prior discussions with world leaders.
From time to time, I glanced outside, letting my thoughts drift as I admired the Swiss landscape.
Through the tinted windows, I could see the snow-capped mountain peaks rising majestically in the distance.
Those fleeting moments of contemplation brought a calm I desperately needed—a serene pause in a storm of responsibilities.