Jason stood at the edge of his bed, a duffel bag open in front of him. Clothes were folded neatly beside it — a mix of the few decent outfits he owned and some newer pieces Steven had picked up earlier that day under the excuse of "you'll need to look respectable." He wasn't used to packing for anything more important than a school trip, and the idea of going to a headquarters he technically owned made the whole situation feel surreal.
The system's dark blue interface hovered faintly in his peripheral vision, minimized but ever-present.
[Reminder: Trip to Accra – ETA: 7h 30m]
[Suitability Check: Casualwear acceptable. Recommended Upgrade: Business Casual.]
[Would you like to access outfit planning tools?]
He ignored it, brushing a hand through his short curls.
"Outfit planning tools," he muttered. "Next thing you know, you'll be offering haircuts."
[Functionality under development.]
He rolled his eyes and zipped up the bag.
The room was dim, save for the soft glow of his lamp and the silent dance of the fan overhead. Outside, Kumasi was quiet — the muffled sounds of night traffic a distant hum. He looked around his room again. Everything looked the same. Same posters, same books on the shelf, same worn-out chair by the desk. And yet… he wasn't the same.
A soft knock broke his thoughts.
"Jason, are you done packing?" Steven's voice came through the door, as calm and efficient as always.
"Yeah. Just finished."
The door creaked open and Steven stepped in, his dress shirt sleeves rolled up and a travel folder in hand. "Good. We leave at 5:30 a.m. sharp. Your mother thinks it's a company tour, so let's keep it that way. I'll take care of logistics. You just act like a curious teenager."
Jason nodded, slinging the duffel strap over his shoulder. "I can manage that. I am a teenager."
Steven gave a dry smile. "One who owns eight regional subsidiaries, three tech patents, and an international black card."
"Still technically a teenager," Jason said with a shrug. "Just… upgraded."
"Mm." Steven glanced at the system floating near Jason. "You'll want to seal your abilities while we travel. No surprises."
Already on it. "System," Jason said quietly, "Seal everything."
[All supernatural capabilities sealed.]
[Current status: Normal human.]
Steven handed him the folder. "It contains a summarized brief of the Accra branch, just in case. And your appointment schedule — if you want to meet department heads or tour the R&D division."
Jason flipped it open, scanning the sharp black text and bold headers.
"This says I'm meeting the West African Director at 11 a.m."
"That's correct. He doesn't know who you are. But he knows someone important is coming."
Jason smirked. "Let's keep it that way."
Steven nodded. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's your first unofficial step into your company."
Jason placed the folder into his bag and flopped onto his bed with a soft sigh.
The system dimmed in his vision as he whispered, "Wake me up at four."
[Alarm set.]
As he sank into sleep, the last thing on his mind wasn't fear or pressure — it was a strange curiosity. What did it mean to be the boss, when no one knew?
[ALARM – 4:45 a.m.]
The soft chime of the system's internal alarm stirred Jason from a dreamless sleep. His eyes blinked open slowly, greeted by the familiar glow of the hovering blue interface in the corner of his vision.
[Time to wake up, Jason.]
[Mission Status: Travel to Accra Branch]
[Mood: Drowsy. Hydration: Low. Stretching: Recommended.]
He sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The room was still dark, the faint orange of the street light barely seeping through the curtains.
He pushed himself off the bed, bones cracking slightly as he stood and stretched, his muscles reacting a little too quickly—still used to superhuman reflexes. He caught himself mid-wobble.
"Still not used to feeling normal," he muttered, pulling on the hoodie he'd set aside the night before. His duffel sat zipped by the foot of the bed. A black cap lay on top of it.
By the time he stepped into the living room, Steven was already seated on the couch, dressed in a navy blue suit jacket over a more casual shirt, with a steaming cup of tea in hand. Jason's mother stood in the kitchen, spooning tea into a flask.
"You're up early," she said, offering him a soft smile. "I packed some snacks and your toothpaste. You know how you forget that sort of thing."
Jason nodded sleepily. "Thanks, Mummy."
She handed him the flask. "And don't let Steven bully you into anything stressful. You're still a kid."
"I'll do my best," Jason said with a half-smile, taking the flask and slipping it into his duffel bag. Steven stood, checking his wristwatch.
"It's 5:18 Adwoa," Steven announced. "Let's move."
They stepped outside into the cool pre-dawn air. The sky was still dark, with just a hint of blue breaking at the horizon. Steven's car — a sleek black Honda CR-V — sat waiting in the driveway. He opened the back door for Jason, who climbed in and settled into the leather seat. His mother took the passenger seat, already chatting with Steven about a new supplier for her business.
Jason leaned his head against the window, watching the familiar streets of Kumasi slide past as the car pulled off. The early morning roads were quiet, lit only by scattered streetlights and the occasional headlight. His neighborhood faded behind them, giving way to the winding highway.
The system spoke softly.
[Vitals: Stable. Mental activity: High. Thought fragmentation detected.]
[Do you wish to enter light meditation?]
"No, I want to think," Jason whispered.
He watched the scenery pass by. There was a rhythm to long drives like this, especially when the roads were mostly empty — an unspoken silence that gave thoughts space to roam.
He thought about the absurdity of it all. One moment he was gutting monsters in some decaying universe, the next, he was back in Ghana, heading to Accra like it was just a regular business trip. Only… it wasn't.
He was the boss.
Of all of this.
The thought still made him pause.
⸻
It was almost noon when the CR-V pulled through the outskirts of Accra. Traffic had picked up the closer they got to the city — a symphony of honks, street vendors, and the chaotic ballet of trotro drivers weaving through traffic like they had a personal deal with God.
Steven maneuvered the car with quiet precision, his expression unreadable behind the sunglasses he'd put on an hour ago.
"This is my stop," Jason's mother said as they slowed near a junction. "My coworker will pick me up from here."
"Make sure you eat," Jason said quickly, remembering how she always forgot to when she got busy.
"I should be saying that to you," she smiled. "Don't stress yourself too much. It's just a tour."
She waved goodbye and crossed to the sidewalk, vanishing into the crowd as the car pulled away.
Jason waited a beat before exhaling.
"You know, I never asked. Where exactly is this place?"
Steven's lips twitched. "The Accra branch headquarters? Ridge."
Jason raised a brow. "Of course it is."
They drove in silence for a while longer, weaving past glass-front buildings, embassies, and tall gates hiding homes he'd only ever seen in real estate ads.
Finally, Steven turned onto a quieter road flanked by trimmed hedges and security posts. Ahead stood a wide compound, three stories tall, with reflective windows, a private gate, and two flags — Ghana's and a dark navy one with Orion Surveillance's logo in silver.
Steven pulled up to the entrance, where two uniformed security guards stepped forward. One of them saluted the car before pressing a button that opened the gates.
Jason leaned forward slightly.
So this was it.
His company.
Or at least a piece of it.
The gates closed behind them with a mechanical hum as the CR-V rolled to a smooth stop beneath a sleek, covered parking area. Jason stepped out slowly, his eyes trailing up the full height of the glass-paneled building. It was elegant without being excessive — modern lines, clean walls, security cameras tucked neatly into corners, and tinted windows that gave nothing away.
Steven rounded the front of the car, adjusting his cuffs.
"Welcome to the Accra branch of Orion Surveillance," he said simply, almost like a tour guide. "You'll find that this location is significantly more active than the one in Kumasi. Most of our high-level meetings, testing, and government-facing work happens here."
Jason followed him to the front doors, noting how the reception area already buzzed with quiet activity. People in business casual moved from one side of the lobby to the other — clipboards in hand, briefcases in tow. No one paid them any particular attention. Just another senior staff member with a kid.
The receptionist at the front desk looked up and gave a small nod.
"Good morning, Mr. Amartey."
"Morning. This is my nephew. We'll be using the executive elevator."
"Understood."
Jason raised a brow but said nothing. They walked toward the far end of the lobby where a second set of lifts stood, guarded by a black access panel. Steven tapped a keycard, and the elevator chimed open. Inside, the walls were polished steel with a smooth black floor. The elevator began its silent ascent.
"Steven," Jason said, his voice low, "why does it feel like I don't belong here?"
Steven turned to him, expression even. "Because you're looking at this place through the lens of who you used to be. Not who you are now."
Jason nodded slowly, leaning back against the elevator wall.
System, he thought silently. Confirm my ownership status.
[Ownership: 100% – Orion Surveillance Systems Limited]
[Subsidiaries: 12]
[Conglomerate Total Reach: 37 countries]
[Estimated Value: Classified under Directive 7 – Unlock Level 2 Clearance to Access Full Ledger]
Jason didn't show any emotion, but internally, his mind spun. That wasn't just "big company" wealth — that was legacy-building, history-writing, billionaire column in Forbes wealth.
And he was fourteen.
The elevator doors slid open onto a quiet, well-lit corridor. Glass offices lined either side, with frosted logos etched into the glass: Cyber Division, R&D, West African Ops, and so on.
Steven walked ahead, leading them to a conference room — spacious, minimalist, and already set with chilled bottles of water on the polished table. Jason stepped inside, sinking into the leather chair at the head of the table. It didn't feel symbolic until he realized Steven had taken the seat to his right — not at the head.
Jason looked out at the Accra skyline through the tall windows.
"So, what's the plan?"
Steven leaned forward slightly. "For today? We're here for observation. You'll meet the head of cybersecurity, tour the R&D lab, and then we'll sit in on the weekly regional operations review. It'll give you a clearer idea of what you own."
Jason sipped his water.
"And no one knows who I am?"
"No one," Steven said firmly. "As far as they're concerned, you're a talented intern shadowing me for your vacation period. When — if — you're ready to change that narrative, I'll follow your lead."
Jason let the words settle, watching the way the city moved outside the window.
In another life, he was a god-slayer. A weapon of divine will.
Now?
Now, he was a ghost in a business suit, slipping between a life once lived and one that hadn't even started.
"…Let's go meet my employees," he said finally, standing up and adjusting his hoodie. "Time to see what I'm working with."
Steven led the way, his pace even but purposeful, as they stepped out of the conference room and into the glass-walled corridor once more. Jason walked beside him, hoodie on, hands in his pockets, eyes flicking from door to door as they passed.
Each department had its own flavor.
First stop was a room labeled "Drone Coordination – West Region."
The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Inside, rows of sleek consoles stretched across the floor. A dozen operators sat with headsets on, multiple feeds streaming across their monitors — most from surveillance drones flying over everything from industrial complexes to government-approved wildlife preserves.
A young woman turned and spotted Steven. She straightened.
"Morning, Mr. Amartey."
Steven offered a polite nod. "Morning. Just giving the intern a quick walkthrough. Go ahead."
Jason's brows drew together slightly as he approached one of the unoccupied screens. Live drone footage hovered over what looked like a rural village.
"Where's this?"
"North of Tamale," the operator beside him said. "Community requested aerial security after repeated incidents of illegal logging in the nearby forest."
"Your drones catch them?"
"Three arrests last week," she said, matter-of-factly. "Footage handed over to Forestry Commission and Ghana Police. Since then? Nothing."
Jason gave a small nod. "Nice."
Steven gestured once more, and they moved on.
Next stop: Remote Site Infrastructure Support.
This wing looked different — half-office, half-storage. Staff were checking ruggedized outdoor cameras, testing their range and durability. Another corner had solar power kits, rain-proof transmitter cases, and motion sensors in different camouflaged housings.
"These are the people who support rural deployments," Steven said. "Villages, isolated compounds, farms… even wildlife conservation zones. Not everyone can afford full systems, so we adapt. Low-power, solar, off-grid — these guys build it, deploy it, and maintain it."
Jason crouched down beside a pile of neatly packed camera kits.
"How many of these are out there?"
"Thousands," Steven replied. "In Ghana, Nigeria, Sierra Leone, Liberia. Each system is registered to our cloud and managed remotely through regional hubs like this."
Jason whistled low under his breath, "This is… way more than I expected."
"You haven't seen anything yet," Steven said with a small grin.
Third stop: Cybersecurity and Anti-Fraud Lab.
This section was cooler, darker. The walls were lined with screens showing digital maps and network graphs. Strings of code ran like river currents. It reminded Jason — almost uncomfortably — of war rooms he'd seen across dimensions.
Two staffers hunched over a shared monitor, headphones on, eyes locked on fast-moving data logs.
A tall man in his mid-30s noticed them. Clean-shaven, no-nonsense energy, wore a crisp shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow. He walked over.
"Mr. Amartey. This the intern?"
"Yes," Steven replied easily. "Jason. This is Kojo Bentil — head of our Cybersecurity Threat Detection Unit."
Jason extended a hand, keeping his expression neutral. "Nice to meet you, sir."
Kojo nodded, shaking firmly. "You've got sharp eyes, kid. Good. Most interns get dizzy just walking in here."
Jason allowed a faint smirk. "I've seen worse."
Kojo didn't ask what "worse" meant, but his brow raised slightly. Then he motioned toward one of the larger screens.
"We're currently tracking a breach attempt targeting a mid-level government database. Masked as a fake login portal, sent via a phishing email last night."
"You catch it?" Jason asked.
"Five minutes before it hit the target inbox. Isolated and rerouted the payload to a sandbox. Traced back to a fraud ring operating out of Lagos."
Jason blinked. "You guys do cross-border?"
"When we have to," Kojo said. "We don't play around."
Steven checked his watch.
"There's one more place I want to show you before lunch," he said. "You'll like this one."
⸻
Final stop: The Community Intelligence Room.
The walls were lined with maps of West Africa, each one color-coded with little pins and digital screens tracking trends — from criminal hotspots to road accident patterns, even water access issues in some regions.
"This isn't really surveillance in the traditional sense," Steven said, folding his hands behind his back. "We partner with NGOs and government agencies to gather environmental and human data — to identify where help is needed the most."
Jason looked at the screen showing a village in Burkina Faso with flickering dots around it.
"What's this one?"
"Mobile alert system," one of the analysts nearby said. "Locals text a code if they notice suspicious movement in the area. Usually helps us detect early signs of human trafficking or conflict spillover."
Jason stayed quiet for a few moments.
All this time… he had assumed the company was just cameras and code. Cold machinery. Black cards and sealed files.
But here… here was something different.
"Steven…" he said quietly. "This is actually… good."
Steven turned his head slightly. "I know."
"And I own all of it?"
"You do."
Jason was silent again.
Then, quietly — like a thought slipping past his lips — he said, "Maybe… this won't be so bad after all."
Steven didn't say anything as they exited the Community Intelligence Room. He simply nodded toward a private elevator at the far end of the corridor, swiped a black access card, and stepped inside. Jason followed.
The doors shut.
Only the soft hum of the elevator filled the space for a moment before Jason finally glanced sideways.
"Where are we going now?"
Steven's voice was calm. "To your office."
Jason blinked. "Mine?"
"You're the owner," Steven said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Even if no one knows it yet."
The elevator glided upward in silence.
Ding.
The doors opened to reveal a floor unlike the others. The lights were softer here, warmer. Art lined the walls — not cold and corporate, but expressive, personal. A long hallway stretched out, with frosted glass on one side and polished dark wood panels on the other.
At the far end sat a single large door with a sleek silver handle.
Steven opened it without hesitation.
Jason stepped inside.
The office was massive — easily four times larger than any other room he'd seen that day. Floor-to-ceiling windows cast warm afternoon light across the smooth marble floors. A wide, obsidian-black desk sat near the center, its surface clear except for a closed leather-bound folder and a tablet. To the right, a plush seating area with a minimalist sofa and coffee table. On the far wall, a large framed photo of a city skyline at night — Accra.
Jason walked slowly across the room, dragging his hand over the back of the sofa before finally standing behind the desk. He didn't sit.
Steven watched him quietly from the door, then stepped forward and placed something small on the table.
A silver pin — the company insignia in black and gold.
"This room's been kept locked ever since the paperwork was finalized," Steven said. "No one has ever worked here. Not officially."
Jason looked around, still trying to piece everything together.
Steven walked around the desk and stood beside him.
"I've handled everything until now," he said. "Your mother. The systems. The contracts. I made sure the company ran without needing your face or signature. That's how you wanted it when the letter first came through."
Jason nodded slightly, but didn't look at him.
Steven continued. "But now that you're here — and staying — we've reached a crossroads."
He tapped the desk gently, drawing Jason's attention.
"You have two options."
Jason finally sat down in the leather chair. It felt too big for him. Too real.
Steven spoke softly. "Option one: I continue running the day-to-day. You stay out of the spotlight. Enjoy your life, come in when you feel like it. No one will know who you are unless you decide otherwise. I'll protect your anonymity, just like I've always done."
Jason's eyes remained fixed on the silver pin.
"Option two?" he asked.
"You step forward," Steven said. "Not necessarily into the public, but into leadership. You start learning the ropes, setting direction, making decisions. This company is powerful, Jason. It can change lives — for better or worse. If you want to shape it, now's the time."
Jason leaned back in the chair and let the silence stretch.
Outside, the city sprawled endlessly. Cars moved like tiny dots. The weight of it all slowly settled onto his shoulders.
He closed his eyes for a second.
The system interface flickered to life in his vision, unprompted, almost as if it sensed the gravity of the moment.
[This choice will define your path.]
[Do you wish to activate Administrative Mode: CEO?]
[Y/N]
Jason took a breath and whispered just loud enough for Steven to hear.
"…Not yet."
Steven raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it.
"I'm not saying no," Jason added, glancing up. "But I'm not ready to put on a suit and start holding meetings. I'm still figuring out who I even am outside of… all that madness."
"I understand," Steven said, completely unbothered. "And that's fair."
He moved to the side table and poured two glasses of water, handing one to Jason.
"But sooner or later, you'll have to decide. Because power left unchecked eventually becomes someone else's weapon."
Jason held the glass in his hand and looked out the window again.
"Until then," Steven said, "this office is yours. No one else steps foot in here without your permission. Not even me."
Jason didn't respond right away. Just sat there, silent. Thinking.
And the sun outside slowly dipped lower in the sky.