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As I settle into my seat, a jolt of surprise roots me in place. Killian is here, seated at Arthur’s right, and the look he gives me teems with an undeclared challenge.

“What’s the occasion, Shiv?” His voice falls somewhere between an innocuous greeting and a sneer, as he darts a glance between Braxton and me.

Braxton’s hand reaches under the table, grasping mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Ignoring my quickening pulse, I grip the stem of my glass and raise my champagne in a toast.

“Just happy to be celebrating with friends,” I say. Casting a glance down the table, I add, “To Gray Wolf!”

The room fills with the sound of clinking glasses and hearty cheers. As I savor the chill of the bubbly champagne, Arthur’s contemplative stare catches my attention, fixed on a singular star that shines brighter than all the others in this holographic night sky.

Our gazes lock, and a profound sense of unease washes over me, whispering a silent, daunting challenge:how will I ever find a way to stop him?

As the first course arrives, Arthur leans in, a playful curiosity sparking in his eyes. Addressing the table, he says, “Tell me, what do you know about Vincent Van Gogh’sStarry Night?”

Instinctively, I glance toward Elodie. In the past, we were always so competitive about art, eager to show off our limited knowledge. Yet, this time, I’m content to sit back and let her claim the spotlight.

“It represents the view from the east-facing window of his asylum room at Saint-Remy-de-Provence, captured just before dawn,” she says, casting a quick glance my way, as though expecting me to chime in with additional insights. But I no longer care about winning this game. Instead, I focus on the delicate flavors of the amuse-bouche, savoring how well it pairs with the effervescence of my champagne.

“Despite his illness,” she continues, “his time at the asylum was marked by an intense burst of creativity, giving rise to many works now hailed as masterpieces…”

Elodie’s voice fades into the background as I lose myself in the sparkling holographic stars, weaving a ballet of light across the white tablecloth. This immersive scene, this vivid display of emotion and color, ignites a profound appreciation deep within me.

You have been here before,a knowing voice whispers.Done this before.

The thought storms through my head, jolting me back to the moment. Suddenly, I find myself saying, “I’ve always been intrigued by the way he segments the canvas into the night sky, the village below, and the towering cypress tree.”

Wait-what?

I pause, breath catching, uncertain where these words are coming from, or if I even believe them.

Have I always been intrigued by that? Really?

I’m no longer sure, and yet, now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop.

“It’s often seen as a representation of the connection between heaven and earth,” I continue, feeling the layers of the painting unravel in my mind. “To many, it speaks to Van Gogh’s inner turmoil, his search for solace amid all his struggles. The stars and swirling sky symbolize hope and eternity. The cypress, stretching from the earth to the heavens, might represent Van Gogh’s feelings of loneliness or his aspiration to transcend the ordinary. But to me, this painting exemplifies the power of art to express and evoke intense emotions solely through color and brushstrokes.”

I let my gaze drift along the table, adding, “It’s said to hang in the Museum of Modern Art in New York. However…” I pause, scanning the faces around me. “I think we all know the true masterpiece resides in Arthur’s vault.”

Arthur grins, and as a team of servers steps in to remove our plates before introducing the next course, I sink deeper into my seat, taking in the opulent surroundings. When all this is over, when I’ve defeated Arthur and left Gray Wolf behind, it’s moments like this that I’ll miss.

Not everything here is bad. Arthur’s obsession with beauty is something I can easily understand. I wish he could be satisfied with hoarding art and offering us extraordinary experiences—traveling the world, touring history in a way others can only dream about. But Arthur will never be content with what he already has. He will always crave more. That’s why he must be stopped. No question about it.

For now, there is still plenty of time, so I let myself enjoy this moment, knowing it will one day become yet another beautiful memory that I’ll take with me.

“I’ve noticed,” Arthur says, “not a single one of you has dared to reach for the stars.” He laughs, rising from his seat and theatrically swiping at a holographic cloud, causing it to shimmer and distort. Gasps of surprise ripple through the room.

Inspired by his action, everyone reaches for the heavens. When I catch a star between my fingers, our eyes lock. Mimicking the release of a dandelion seed, I blow the star toward him, and Arthur’s grin widens.

As the meal transitions from entrée to dessert, a waiter circulates, placing a small box beside each of us.

Elodie is the first to investigate, her expression a mix of curiosity and bewilderment at the sight of what appears to be a pair of transparent contact lenses.

“They’re for augmented reality,” Arthur announces, clearly pleased with himself.

As we fit the lenses into our eyes, the room instantly fills with audible cries of delight. The already vivid holographic imagery around us intensifies, drawing us even deeper into Van Gogh’s star-studded vision. This dinner becomes not just a meal, but an unforgettable journey through art and illusion.

“Take them with you,” Arthur says. “Think of it as a souvenir, allowing you to relive this moment at will. And for now, I bid you good night.”

I watch Arthur leave, then, turning to Braxton, I say, “To the Autumn Room?” Figuring we should probably go through the motions and take part in the usual after-dinner routine.