Valerie stood alone in the gallery, the bck embroidered envelope still in her hand. The woman who’d delivered it had already vanished, leaving behind no trace but this curious missive. For a moment, Valerie considered opening it there—beneath the gaze of Cleopatra's marble stillness—but thought better of it.
I need to head back home to change anyway. I’ll read it there.
She texted her driver and exited the museum. He picked her up promptly, the car gliding through mid-afternoon traffic with practiced ease. When he asked if she’d need a ride for her evening event at the White House, she nodded.
“Yes. Come back at 5:30. Private car makes it easier to get inside something like a Christmas Reception. Thank you.”
Back at her apartment, she locked the door and drew the blinds. The soft hum of city life faded into the background as she stepped into her home office, slipped a finger beneath the wax seal, and cracked it open.
Inside was a single card. One word printed in elegant bck calligraphy:
Velvet.
She turned it over. Bnk. No signature. No instructions. No trace of ink or pressure from a pen. She checked the envelope again—nothing.
Then, without sound or warning, the envelope, the card, even the wax seal shimmered… and dissolved into the air like mist. Nanites, she realized. She felt them enter through the pores of her hand, a faint warmth tracing up her arm.
There was no doubt what this meant.
Velvet was the codeword. The signal they’d agreed upon back when The Curator first revealed herself—and quietly confirmed by Mallory in her office after the Tutorial.
The clock was accelerating. It was time to y the foundation. A bit more urgently now.
Valerie exhaled slowly and crossed the room to her bathroom. She turned on the shower and undressed, steam beginning to gather in the mirror.
Tonight would require her most potent form of influence—whispers wrapped in silk and shadow. She would look senators, envoys, and military brass in the eye… and nudge the future forward.
Because whether they were ready or not, the world was changing.And Valerie Connors would make sure they didn’t try to stop what was coming.
Exiting the shower, she saw that she had plenty of time to get ready. She decided on bck. It was a reception at the White House, where bck attire essentially faded into the backdrop—precisely what she intended.She scanned the hanging silhouettes in her closet, fingers brushing past silks and satin until they paused on velvet. Ah yes. This one.A floor-length dress, midnight bck with long sleeves and a high neckline, its cut elegant but severe. She slipped it on with practiced ease. The fabric clung in all the right pces, but offered nothing freely.She selected a long gold neckce with a minimal teardrop pendant, the chain so fine it almost vanished against her skin. Bck stiletto heels, also velvet.Valerie completed the look with a slim bck clutch and a charcoal wool coat trimmed with bck fur at the colr. She paused in front of the mirror, checking every detail. Not for vanity, but precision.The Velvet Reaper was ready to go to work.
At 5:30 PM, the driver pulled up outside and Valerie stepped into the car. The drive to the White House was quiet enough, though traffic grew increasingly sluggish the closer they got to Pennsylvania Avenue. Tonight, the usual congestion was amplified by the presence of diplomatic convoys and bck-tie motorcades snaking toward the gates.
Valerie responded to a few emails and cleared a handful of text messages, each more tedious than the st. She welcomed the distraction—it kept her mind from looping back to the envelope, the card, and the unseen eyes behind The Curator’s seal.
Eventually, she flicked open her System Interface, scanning the familiar text.
---
System InterfaceCharacter StatusName: Valerie ConnorsAge: 32 yearsLevel: 8Race: Human—AugmentedCss: Velvet ReaperProfession: N/A
Titles: Unbidden Pathfinder
Core Attributes (Stats):
Strength 26Dexterity 57Endurance 35Vitality 35Intelligence 32Wisdom 21Charisma 67Perception 48
Health: 525 / 525Stamina: 350 / 350Mana: 252 / 252
---
Not bad, she thought, leaning her head back against the seat. Passed the first threshold in Dexterity and Charisma. It’s a start.
As they entered the motorcade ne and cleared the first checkpoint, the vehicle slowed to a crawl. Security agents in thick coats moved methodically from car to car with clipped efficiency. When it was their turn, the driver handed over identification while Valerie presented her invitation and matching credentials. A final sweep, a nod, and they were waved through.
The car rolled up to the East Wing entrance, where Valerie stepped out into the December chill. The air was crisp but dry, and faintly scented with pine from garnds strung across the stone portico. Inside, the polished floors gleamed under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers. She passed through a metal detector—half-expecting the System’s enhancements in her head to cause a hiccup—but the machine stayed silent. The agent waved her through.
Her name was checked for the third time at the Entrance Hall reception table. Another nod, another usher.
Down a side corridor, the sound of string instruments grew stronger, swelling into the soft elegance of a live quartet. Valerie was led into the State Dining Room, where the reception was already in full swing. The space glowed with warmth—evergreens wrapped in gold ribbon draped the firepce mantels, and a dozen white candles flickered in long crystal holders across the buffet tables.
Laughter rose in soft waves. Waitstaff glided between clusters of guests in bck and midnight blue, bancing trays of champagne flutes and seasonal hors d’oeuvres—roasted fig crostini, miniature crab cakes, slices of aged cheddar on quince paste.
Valerie accepted a gss of champagne and paused just inside the room, letting her eyes adjust to the soft golden light.
Now, she thought, where shall we begin?
Then she spotted Hannah Wainwright. A podcast influencer known for her razor-sharp commentary on the shifting power dynamics between the political left and right. Hannah was tall, over six feet without heels, and carried herself with the easy confidence of someone used to commanding a room with nothing but her voice.
She wore a deep forest green pantsuit with a satin pel, tailored to perfection and paired with bck stiletto boots that added another inch to her already striking frame. Underneath the bzer, a subtle shimmer from a gold silk blouse caught the light just enough to suggest elegance without fsh. Her earrings were delicate gold hoops, and her tightly coiled hair had been swept up into a soft chignon at the nape of her neck.
Valerie noted the choice immediately. The look was diplomatic, modern, and media-savvy—bold and sexy enough to stand out, yet cssic enough to earn quiet nods from both senators and donors alike.
Valerie approached, and Hannah spotted her instantly. The podcaster’s expression brightened as she turned, champagne flute in hand.
“Valerie Connors,” Hannah said with a smile. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. How have things been? Anything exciting happening in Senator Langston’s offices these days?”
Valerie returned the smile and leaned in for a one-armed hug. “Forest green—aren’t you bold?” she said, taking in the elegant lines of Hannah’s gown. “You look radiant, as always. It’s lovely to see you.”
The two women had crossed paths many times over the years, though Valerie had never joined Hannah’s podcast, Ebb and Flow. Still, Hannah often called for off-the-record insights, and Senator Langston usually allowed Valerie to answer freely. She had a talent for nuance, and Hannah respected that—just as Valerie appreciated Hannah’s influence.
Ebb and Flow had become essential listening in the political arena: a rare voice that traced the undercurrents between right and left without sinking into sensationalism. Her audience trusted her, because she trusted her instincts—and because she reminded Capitol Hill that the rest of the country was watching.
After a few minutes of polite banter, Valerie gently steered the conversation toward deeper waters.
“Would you mind stepping somewhere a little quieter?” she asked. “There’s something I’d like to run by you. Not for publication.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course,” she said, topping off her champagne from a nearby tray.
An usher guided them down the corridor to a discreet side room, away from the hum of the reception.
As the door clicked shut behind them, Valerie triggered Velvet Veil, and her 67 Charisma added weight to every word.
She turned, eyes calm but focused. “Hannah, you’re one of my favorite influencers in this space. But I need to ask—are you capable of keeping a secret?”
Hannah paused, caught off guard. “That depends on the secret.”
There was a flicker of hesitation in her tone—she wasn’t flippant, just cautious. But even as her logical mind raised its defenses, something warm and insistent nudged at the back of her awareness. A desire to trust. To lean in.
Valerie pressed gently. “This isn’t about some leak from Langston’s office. You’ve never held a secret this rge before. I need your word.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Hannah gave a slow nod. “Alright. You have it.”
Valerie smiled, just slightly. “It’s not exactly my secret—but you’ll understand soon.”
She took a breath, framing her tone as casual despite the truth she was about to drop.
“You know how the powerful hoard resources. How pharma keeps us just healthy enough to survive—but never quite thrive.”
Hannah nodded, wary but intrigued. “Go on.”
“There’s something coming. A medical breakthrough. Two compounds. The first? It cures all disease. The second… it reverses aging.”
Hannah blinked, wine gss halfway to her lips. “That’s… a hell of a cim, Valerie.”
“I’ve seen it work. On people you know.”
“But this would be everywhere. How does no one know about it?”
“It’s not public yet. And when it is… Well, that’s the problem. There will be those who try to stop it. Or monopolize it. Spread fear. Repackage it as something elite and expensive.” Valerie let the thought settle. “But it’s not. It’s meant for everyone. No cost. No barriers. Enough doses for every person on Earth.”
Hannah raised an eyebrow. “Wait, whoever developed this is just giving it to the whole pnet? For free? I’d ask who’s behind it, but I can only assume the te Elliot Voss had his fingers in something like that. He always did wax philosophical when global health issues came up in conversation or interviews.”
Valerie leaned back and took a slow sip of her drink. She let the pause breathe. Then, deliberately: “I can’t comment on that. But I do believe you can help ease the transition.”
Hannah exhaled through her nose, gaze narrowing. “What can I do? My ptform isn’t exactly cutting-edge medical journalism.”
“I’m not asking you to report the science. I want you to help shape the field. Your show—Ebb and Flow—you understand bance. Nuance. But you also understand how fast things can spiral. This is bigger than any of us. But the truth needs voices. Trusted ones. And I’ll be honest, your eighty million listeners aren’t exactly a footnote in my calculus.”
A long pause stretched between them. Hannah studied her, reading every subtle twitch and microexpression with the trained intuition of someone who had built her career on parsing spin from signal.
“I don’t know what this is,” she said finally. “But I believe you believe it. And if it’s real... then yeah. I want in.”
Valerie’s expression softened. “Then let me offer you something. We’ll have a courier arrange a time and pce to deliver the first dose. It’s about the size of a Five-Hour Energy. Tastes better, though. Take it when you’re home for the day. Then, a week ter, you’ll get the second one. After that?” She smiled faintly. “You’ll start to see the world a little differently. And then we can talk again.”
They spoke for a few more minutes before returning to the State Dining Room, splitting off to mingle among the remaining guests. Valerie drifted through the room with purpose, champagne in hand and eyes scanning for opportunity.
A high-ranking staffer from the Department of Health and Human Services caught her attention, and within minutes, she’d steered their conversation toward subtle regutory shifts. Nothing sweeping, just enough to ease future restrictions on the cssification and distribution of advanced health supplements. The staffer agreed to bring it up with her team.
Later, she found herself face to face with the recently confirmed U.S. Attorney for the District of Columbia—a powerful and politically astute position. They exchanged pleasantries about Senator Langston, shared a ugh over an old campaign story, and then Valerie turned on the charm. Literally.
“You know, Counselor,” she said, voice casual and lilting, “I keep thinking about how often equity depends not just on access… But on enforcement.”
The attorney tilted his head. “That’s one way to look at it.”
She leaned in slightly, her tone a shade more intimate. “Imagine a medical breakthrough. A miracle, even. But the powerful try to monopolize it. Hoard it. Brand it as elite. That’s not protection. That’s theft. Quiet and sanctioned.”
He studied her for a beat. “Are we speaking in hypotheticals?”
“For now,” Valerie said smoothly, letting her words settle like perfume on the air. “But I’d rest easier knowing the Justice Department would be ready, if it came to that. To protect the public’s cim to what belongs to all.”
His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, a small, thoughtful nod followed. “Well, then hypothetically speaking, if something like that nded on my desk... I’d know where I stand.”
That was enough.
By the time the event began to wind down, Valerie had spoken to half a dozen key figures—each one walking away with a gentle nudge, an idea half-pnted, a question they might ponder in the shower or over their next morning coffee. Nothing overt. Just enough. A whisper in the right direction.
As she stepped outside into the crisp December air and found her waiting driver, Valerie allowed herself a small, quiet smile. Her mission had been a success.
The shadows still listened. And tonight, they listened to her.
Valerie arrived home and changed into a pair of soft cotton leggings and a worn bck t-shirt—the kind that hugged her just right and carried the comforting scent of quiet evenings. She brewed a cup of jasmine tea, then curled into her favorite armchair, legs tucked beneath her as she exhaled the tension of the night.
The heels were gone. The velvet dress hung silent in her closet. But the Velvet Reaper was still very much awake.
As she closed her eyes, the world hushed for just a breath—And the System answered.
---
System Message[Worldwide Veil — Quest Initiated]Valerie Connors
You have performed exempry work this evening.
Velvet Reaper, your whispers have taken root in the halls of one empire.Now it is time to extend your reach.
Travel to the centers of power across the world.Pce your truths into the ears of those who hold power, but seldom hear what they need.Speak softly, move carefully, and cast your Veil across the global stage.
Prepare the world for what is to come.
Further instructions will follow.This quest will update as you progress.
---
Valerie’s eyes opened slowly, and just as the system message faded, a faint outline of The Curator’s Seal fshed in her vision.
A soft smile formed on her lips.
The next chapter of her mission had begun.And Valerie? She was having the time of her life.