The Genius System

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Jason let out a long sigh, collapsing onto the bed in his hotel room, staring at the ceiling with growing frustration.

Ever since he had set foot in Macro, all he had done was wait.

Wait for a contact.Wait for an opportunity.Wait for someone to acknowledge his presence.

He hadn't come here to play tourist. He was a negotiator, a man of the field, accustomed to high-stakes discussions, tense exchanges, and delicate power plays. In Afghanistan, in Iraq, he had convinced warlords to release hostages, persuaded arms dealers to betray their allies to save their own skin. He knew how to manipulate human psychology.

But here…

Here, no one wanted to talk to him.

After a high-level meeting in Washington, the White House had decided to maintain its sanctions against Macro while simultaneously attempting to lure Monsieur X to their side. That was why Jason had been sent here.

Since his arrival, he had made multiple attempts to secure a meeting with Monsieur X, but every time, he had hit a wall of polite indifference.

Whenever he met with Macro officials, he felt as if they treated him like an inconvenient guest—tolerated only because he was a foreign diplomat. His superiors in Washington had promised him reliable contacts, but so far, they either didn't exist or were utterly useless.

The worst part?

He hadn't even seen Monsieur X in person yet.

Monsieur X was a ghost, a phantom that drifted through the city without ever truly being seen. Even the highest-ranking officials in Macro had little direct interaction with him. He rarely gave interviews, never attended public events.

Jason had spent hours analyzing the few available images and recordings of him, trying to decipher his personality, his thought process, his psychology. But all he had found were contradictions.

Monsieur X was unpredictable.

He could be serious and intimidating one moment, then sarcastic and playful in the next. A genius who seemed to operate by his own set of rules, openly mocking the norms of diplomacy and geopolitics.

Powerful, elusive, and toying with the expectations of the entire world, how do you negotiate with someone who seems to answer to no authority?

Jason had no idea.

And it was driving him insane.

He glanced at his phone. Nothing. No messages. No scheduled meetings. Not even a hint that he was making any progress.

Frustrated, he stood up and walked toward the window of his hotel room, looking down at the glowing cityscape as night fell over Macro. The city was fascinating, a blend of ultra-modern innovation and deep-rooted tradition. It was clear that the kingdom was undergoing a transition, striving to establish itself in the global arena while holding onto its unique identity.

And at the heart of it all was Monsieur X.

The Ghost of Macro.

Jason sighed, about to close the curtains, when something in the street below caught his eye.

A sleek, black car, both discreet and elegant, glided smoothly down the main avenue. Nothing particularly strange about that… except that every traffic light turned green as it approached.

Not a coincidence.

Jason narrowed his eyes, his instincts honed from years of high-stakes negotiations and intelligence work kicking into high gear.

His focus locked onto the tinted windows of the car, searching for any clue.

Then, he saw him.

In the back seat, barely visible behind the reflection of the city's neon glow, a man sat with an elbow resting casually on the armrest, his gaze fixed outside.

And beside him… a woman.

Someone Jason knew nothing about.

Monsieur X.

Finally.

Jason's pulse quickened.

He didn't know how.

He didn't know when.

But one thing was certain—he was going to find a way to talk to him.

Without a second thought, Jason moved.

The moment he spotted Monsieur X in that car, his body reacted before his mind could even process what he was about to do.

Jason spun on his heels, grabbing his jacket and phone before rushing out of his hotel room. His footsteps echoed through the hallway as he sprinted toward the elevator, but after a brief hesitation, he changed course.

No time to wait.

Taking the stairs, he leapt down four at a time, reaching the ground floor in a matter of seconds.

The hotel lobby was nearly empty, save for the receptionist who raised an eyebrow as Jason stormed past him. He didn't stop. Didn't care.

The moment he stepped outside, his heart pounded faster.

The black car was still there.

It moved smoothly through the night traffic, its tinted windows reflecting the neon glow of the city, an untouchable phantom slipping through the streets.

Not tonight.

Jason bolted toward the parking area, where his own car was waiting. He yanked the door open, slid inside, and slammed the engine to life.

Tires screeched as he pulled out onto the road.

"Come on, come on... stay in my sight" he muttered, gripping the wheel tightly.

Merging into traffic, he kept his gaze locked on the black vehicle ahead.

He had to be careful.

Following a man like Monsieur X wasn't something to take lightly. The man wasn't just a genius, he was an enigma. A shadow surrounded by layers of security.

Jason knew he wasn't alone. There would be guards. Protocols. Countermeasures.

He regulated his speed, keeping a safe distance to avoid drawing attention.

Inside his head, he was already constructing a plan.

"What do I do once I catch up to him?"

"Wait for him to step out and approach him directly? Too risky."

"Confront him in the middle of the street? Impossible."

"Follow him and gather intel? Maybe."

But he knew that wasn't enough. He needed to find a way to force Monsieur X's attention—to make him agree to a meeting.

Then, Jason noticed something.

The black car turned onto a quieter avenue, lined with administrative buildings and a few modern high-rises.

"This might be my only chance."

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the accelerator slightly, determined not to lose sight of his target.

Tonight, no matter what it took, he was going to meet Monsieur X.