Alex's life with John, the immortal roommate who treated centuries-old artifacts like thrift-store finds, was already a circus of suspicion and denial.

  By now, Alex was certain his roommate had been alive longer than the Constitution. The evidence was overwhelming: Russian crowns worn ironically, military papers spanning three wars, tea with a guy literally named Morton Graves, and whiskey with Lucifer himself—who'd casually mentioned John pulling Excalibur from a stone and outdrinking Dionysus.

  But here's the thing that made Alex want to scream into his pillow every night: John had never actually admitted it.

  So when a sharply dressed man who screamed "corporate overlord" showed up to discuss Aegis Q—the shadowy supra-conglomerate that secretly ran half the world's economy—and addressed John as if he were his boss, Alex's frustration reached critical mass.

  The Suit and the Surprise Visit

  It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and Alex was sprawled on the couch, half-watching The Office while John casually polished his "prop" sword—the one Alex was now 100% convinced was actually Excalibur, used by both King Arthur and Alexander the Great, because why the hell not at this point.

  The apartment smelled like Merlin's leftover cookies, which were so good they had to be enchanted. Alex had accepted that too. Normal cookies didn't taste like heaven had opened a bakery.

  Then came a knock at the door—sharp, authoritative, the kind of knock that said, I'm here on important business, and my watch costs more than your rent.

  Alex opened it to find a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a Forbes photoshoot. His suit was impeccably tailored, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes that probably cost more than Alex's car. His watch gleamed—something Swiss and obscenely expensive. His briefcase was monogrammed with a subtle but unmistakable "A.Q."

  Alex's gut churned. He'd seen that logo before; everyone knows that logo. Aegis Q. The puppet master behind global markets, the shadow conglomerate that owned everything from tech giants to pharmaceutical empires to half the Fortune 500.

  "John Harrow, please," the man said, his voice smooth and professional, like a lawyer who'd never lost a case.

  Alex, suspicious but too curious to say no, let him in. "Uh, yeah, he's... polishing a sword. Come on in."

  The man strode past, nodding politely, then spotted John sitting on the couch with Excalibur across his lap, a cleaning rag in one hand and a beer in the other. If the man found this odd, he didn't show it.

  "Mr. Harrow," he said, setting his briefcase on the kitchen table with the reverence of someone handling a nuclear launch code. "We need to discuss Q3 projections and the Singapore merger."

  Alex's jaw hit the floor. Mr. Harrow? Q3 projections? Singapore merger?

  John, still holding Excalibur, grinned. "Hey, Richard. Take a seat. Want coffee?"

  Richard? Alex hovered by the counter, pretending to scroll on his phone while his brain screamed at maximum volume.

  The Aegis Q Revelation

  The man—Richard, apparently—opened his briefcase, pulling out sleek folders stamped with the Aegis Q logo. Alex knew that name. Aegis Q wasn't just a company; it was a myth in financial circles. Headquartered nowhere, owned by no one, yet its CEO was a ghost—no photos, no interviews, as if that person was very reclusive.

  Now, watching John flip through financial reports like he was reading a grocery list, Alex felt his reality tilt sideways.

  Richard launched into a spiel about "fiscal quarters" and "market consolidation" with the ease of someone who'd given this presentation a hundred times.

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  "The board's concerned about the quantum computing division," he said, sliding a tablet toward John. "Revenue's up 40%, but they're worried about overextension. And the Tokyo office needs your sign-off on the neural interface project—Stage 3 trials are ready, but the ethics committee wants final approval from you personally."

  John nodded, scrolling through the tablet with one hand while sipping his beer with the other. "Tell Tokyo to slow down on human trials. Bump R&D funding by 10%—we're close on the fusion reactor prototype, and I want that prioritized. Also, move the Mars drone project to Phase 2. NASA's dragging their feet, so we'll just do it ourselves."

  Fusion reactor? Alex nearly choked. Mars drones? His coffee mug slipped, clattering onto the counter, but neither John nor Richard looked up.

  Then Richard dropped the real bomb.

  "Mr. Harrow, with all due respect, the board's asking again why you insist on living in..." He glanced around at the peeling wallpaper, the thrift-store couch, and the pizza box currently doubling as Excalibur's stand. "...this residence. As Aegis Q's CEO, you could have a penthouse in Dubai, a compound in Monaco—"

  "CEO?!" Alex's voice cracked like a teenager hitting puberty. Both John and Richard turned to him, and Alex realized he'd said that out loud.

  John's grin was infuriatingly calm. "Oh, right. Alex, this is Richard, he handles the boring Aegis Q stuff. Richard, this is Alex, my roommate. He's a data analyst—loves spreadsheets."

  Richard offered a polite nod. "Nice to meet you, Sir."

  "CEO?" Alex repeated, his voice barely a whisper now. "You're the CEO of Aegis Q? The company that owns... everything?"

  John shrugged, setting Excalibur aside with the casual ease of someone who'd probably used it in an actual battle. "It's just a side hustle, man. Keeps me busy. Richard does most of the heavy lifting—board meetings, shareholder calls, all that corporate stuff. I just make the big decisions and sign things."

  "SIDE HUSTLE?!" Alex's voice hit a frequency that could summon bats. "Aegis Q is a TRILLION-DOLLAR CONGLOMERATE! You own quantum computers and MARS DRONES and FUSION REACTORS!"

  Richard, ever professional, interjected. "Actually, we're valued closer to 2.3 trillion, but Mr. Harrow prefers to keep our exact holdings private."

  Alex grabbed the counter to keep from fainting. John—his roommate, who made tacos and hummed sea shanties—was worth 2.3 trillion dollars and ran a shadowy empire that made Elon Musk look like a lemonade stand entrepreneur.

  "Why?" Alex managed, his voice hoarse. "Why are you living in this dump?"

  John's smile softened, just a fraction. "Keeps me grounded, man. Palaces and penthouses are boring. This place has soul. Plus, you're good company." He turned back to Richard. "Tell the board I'll stay here. They can keep their quarterly bonuses."

  Richard sighed, the kind of sigh that said he'd had this conversation before and lost every time. "Very well, sir. I'll relay your decision." He packed his briefcase, stood, and adjusted his tie. "Shall I schedule the next review for November, or would you prefer December?"

  "November's fine. Bring the Mars projections—I want to see what NASA's stalling on." John walked Richard to the door, shaking his hand like they'd just discussed a fantasy football league instead of world domination.

  The door clicked shut, and Alex stood frozen in the kitchen, his coffee forgotten, his brain attempting a hard reboot.

  John strolled back, grabbed Excalibur, and plopped onto the couch like nothing had happened. "You good, man? You look pale."

  Alex's Billionaire-Induced Meltdown

  "Good?" Alex's laugh was unhinged. "GOOD? You're the CEO of Aegis Q! You're richer than entire COUNTRIES, and you're living in an apartment with a leaky faucet and a couch that smells like regret!"

  John shrugged, wiping down Excalibur with a dish towel. "Money's just a tool, Alex. I like it here. Good vibes, good company. Besides, Richard handles the boring stuff—I just point the ship in the right direction."

  Then he opened the fridge, pulled out ingredients for tacos, and said, "Want tacos? I'm thinking carnitas tonight."

  Alex wanted to flip the table. He wanted to grab John by his flannel collar and shake him until the truth fell out. He slumped onto the couch, and opened his laptop. He had a spreadsheet to update.

  Sheet: "Evidence of Immortality"

  New entry: CEO of Aegis Q, 2.3 trillion net worth, owns islands, fusion reactors, Mars projects. Still deflects with tacos.

  Sheet: "Deflections/Excuses"

  New entry: "It's just a side hustle." (Chapter 10)

  Sheet: "Food Bribes"

  New entry: Carnitas tacos (pending).

  The Immortal Oligarch's Charade

  The next morning, John acted like nothing had happened. He made coffee—some artisanal Ethiopian blend that probably cost more per ounce than Alex's rent—and hummed what Alex now recognized as a Babylonian work song.

  John grinned, sliding a perfect stack of pancakes onto a plate. "Want syrup?"

  Alex took the plate—because the pancakes were, as always, divine.

  The rent was still cheap. Merlin's cookies were still in the fridge. And John was still the most infuriating, enigmatic, deflection-champion billionaire immortal roommate in the history of Brooklyn.

  Alex wasn't moving out. Not yet. But if the next visitor was Jeff Bezos calling John "sensei," he was grabbing Excalibur and maybe one of those islands John was offloading.

  Or at least asking for stock options.