The final bell of the day echoed through the halls, signaling the end of Aleksander’s first foray into standard high school life.
While Veronica dragged Betty off to the gymnasium to drill her through a gauntlet of elite cheerleading routines, Aleksander headed for the library.
He navigated the emptying corridors and slipped into the quiet, dusty room, choosing a secluded oak table near the back.
He pulled out a sleek, matte-black laptop, his fingers gliding rapidly across the keys as lines of encrypted data reflected in his dark eyes.
He worked in silence for three minutes before speaking, not bothering to look up from the screen.
“If you are going to tail someone, you need to learn how to control your breathing and watch your footfalls,” Aleksander said, his voice calm and echoing slightly in the empty aisle.
“You favor your left foot when you sneak.
It makes the floorboards creak.”
There was a long pause.
A boy stepped out from behind a row of heavy encyclopedias, looking slightly annoyed at being caught so easily.
It was Jughead.
The pale, six-foot-tall teenager wore his trademark grey knitted crown beanie, a denim jacket layered over a flannel, and a canvas messenger bag slung across his chest.
Realizing his cover was blown, he walked slowly over to the table, trying to salvage his dignity.
“I prefer to call it ‘observational journalism’,” Jughead defended dryly, crossing his arms.
“And nothing about you makes sense.
A massive, highly classified compound goes up in Fox Forest.
Nobody knows what it is, and my dad’s crew isn’t exactly chatty.
But I checked the municipal zoning permits.
I found the name Morozov.”
Jughead leaned closer, his blue-green eyes narrowing in suspicion.
“I did a little digging.
You’re not just some transfer student from Japan.
You’re the CEO of Apex Industries.
The tech prodigy who revolutionized global healthcare.
So, naturally, the question is: what is a multi-billion-dollar genius doing slumming it in Riverdale, a town where our biggest export is maple syrup and misery?”
Aleksander stopped typing.
He looked up at the brooding teenager, and a low, genuine chuckle escaped his lips.
The sheer absurdity of Jughead’s makeshift detective work was highly amusing.
“You have a vivid imagination, Jughead, but your narrative is riddled with plot holes,” Aleksander pointed out, leaning back in his chair.
If I were orchestrating some grand, nefarious conspiracy in this town, do you honestly believe I would file the municipal paperwork under my actual, globally recognized surname?”
Jughead blinked, his brow furrowing as the logic instantly poked a hole in his theory.
“Furthermore,” Aleksander added, his dark eyes locking onto Jughead’s, “if I had a sinister agenda, I wouldn’t waste my time sitting in a high school library listening to a teenager in a beanie try to interrogate me.
With my resources, if I wanted something in Riverdale, I wouldn’t sneak around in the shadows.
I would simply buy the entire town and bulldoze it.”
Aleksander offered a faint, razor-sharp smile.
“My father wanted me to step away from the labs and experience a normal adolescence.
That is the entire, boring truth.
No conspiracy.
No hidden agenda.”
Jughead stood there, his investigative momentum hitting a solid brick wall.
He frowned, shifting his weight as he processed the cold, hard facts.
Aleksander was entirely right.
If Apex Industries actually wanted to do something evil in Riverdale, Jughead wouldn’t be standing here talking to him—he wouldn’t even know Aleksander existed until it was far too late.
“Okay, fine,” Jughead conceded with a cynical sigh, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.
“When you put it like that, my hard-boiled detective angle falls apart pretty quickly.
But for the record, nothing in Riverdale stays boring for long.”
Aleksander smiled, the sharp, calculating edge of his demeanor softening into something more approachable.
He extended a hand across the table.
“Aleksander Morozov.”
Jughead hesitated for only a second before a small, self-deprecating smile broke through his brooding exterior.
He pulled a hand from his jacket pocket and shook it.
“Jughead Jones.”
With the tension broken, the two of them fell into an easy, surprisingly natural conversation.
Despite the massive gap in their backgrounds, they both shared a highly analytical, observant nature.
Also, as suspicious and cynical as Jughead is Aleksander is highly charismatic and can win over anyone.
“So, are you actively pursuing investigative journalism?” Aleksander asked, closing his laptop.
“A little bit of both,” Jughead admitted, leaning against the edge of the table.
“I’m writing a novel, actually.
About Riverdale.
About what’s happening underneath the surface, especially with Jason Blossom’s death.”
Jughead adjusted his beanie, his tone shifting into something a bit more philosophical.
“I’m a natural outsider here.
I don’t fit into the football team, the cheer squad, or the school hierarchy.
But that detachment is useful.
It allows me to look at Riverdale from a completely objective point of view.
I get to be the town’s self-proclaimed conscientious objector.”
Aleksander nodded, genuinely respecting the perspective.
It wasn’t far off from how he operated within the criminal and corporate underworlds.
“An objective lens is a rare commodity in a town driven by emotion and gossip.
But if you want to write a true investigative piece, you need more than just observation.
You need access.”
Jughead raised an eyebrow.
“Access is hard to come by when half the town pretends you don’t exist.”
“I have acquaintances in high-level investigative journalism and private intelligence,” Aleksander offered smoothly.
“If you are serious about this, I can teach you how to set up encrypted information channels, how to properly vet a source, and how to follow a financial trail without triggering alarms.
Real tradecraft.”
Jughead’s eyes lit up.
The offer was a massive upgrade from digging through poorly filed municipal records and eavesdropping in diners.
To have a billionaire tech genius offer to train him in actual information gathering was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.
“You’d really teach me that?” Jughead asked, his cynical guard dropping entirely.
“Consider it an investment,” Aleksander said with a faint smirk.
“After all, if you are going to be writing about Riverdale, you might as well get the story right.”