The effect was instant. When he walked into the boardroom, the air changed. The billionaire client, usually a wall of ice, leaned in. The assistants stopped typing. Leo felt like he was radiating heat. He didn't even have to finish his pitch; the client shook his hand before the final slide, looking at Leo with a strange, primal sort of trust.

He caught his reflection in the lobby mirror. He looked the same, but he felt like a signal fire in a dark forest. He realized then that the Osmologist was right: he had bought the "where," but he wasn't ready for the "what happens next." He hadn't just bought a scent; he had turned himself into a target.

An elderly woman with thick, amber-colored glasses didn’t look up from her counter. "You’re late," she rasped. "I’m looking for..." Leo started.