Enoch leaned back in his chair, releasing a deep sigh as the glow of the television danced across his weary face. The news anchor's voice was like drones speaking to a room filled with grim tidings from the crashing world markets. His eyes followed the red numbers ticking down across the screen: stock prices plummeting, economies teetering on the edge of collapse.He hunched forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his temples. It wasn't the crash in and of itself that bothered him, but what it meant for him: the gold his empire produced was losing value. Everything he had worked for, all the power he had built seemed to slip right through his fingers. He could not afford to lose control now. Not with the system in play. Not with Stephen unraveling.The jingle of a commercial break tore him from the reverie. Enoch clicked off the television, and in an instant, the room fell silent. He stood and strode across to the window, staring out onto the city skyline. The lights twin
Enoch sat back in his chair, exhaling deeply as the glow from the television flickered across his tired face. The news anchor’s voice droned on, filling the room with grim updates about the recent global market crash. His eyes followed the red numbers ticking downward across the screen—stock prices plummeting, economies teetering on the edge of collapse.He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples. It wasn’t just the crash itself that bothered him; it was what it meant for him. The gold his empire produced was losing value. Everything he had worked for, all the power he had built, seemed to be slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t afford to lose control now. Not with the system in play. Not with Stephen unraveling.The sound of a commercial break snapped him out of his thoughts. Enoch turned the TV off with a sharp click, plunging the room into silence. He stood up and moved to the window, staring out into the city skyline. The lights twinkled below, bu
Stephen sat cross-legged on a soft mat, his eyes closed to focus on the calm voice of the guru. The air around him was scented with burning incense; a low hum of chanting echoed softly from the walls. He had called in the guru in a last-ditch effort to clear his mind, escape the relentless pull of the system. It had started to devour him, bit by bit, till it was all he could think of, all he could perceive.He was losing his grip, and he knew it.The guru's voice came, calm: "Breathe in. breathe out. let your thoughts flow like water. Do not cling to them."Stephen sucked in an enormous breath, then let it slowly out again, as if to expel everything at the same time: the market crash, the system, the deals that went right past him. The tension between him and Enoch was endless. He'd gotten pulled into something so much bigger than he was that he couldn't possibly control it himself, and however hard Stephen fought his way free of it, he felt ensnared.Then, though, as his breathing st
Standing beside Ariane's bed, his mind was spinning as he stared down at the screen of the system on his phone. His fingers trembling, he hit the icon for healing skills. He muttered under his breath, "Why can't this work on her? Why can't I save her?The system kept mum-no explanation, no solution. The shallow breathing of his daughter echoed in the room; every weak breath made him helpless. Stephen swallowed hard as his throat went dry. He could fix deals, he could manipulate numbers, but here in this hospital room, he was powerless.The door creaked open, and Stephen turned to see Enoch step in. Gone was Enoch's usual smug expression, replaced with a concerned frown. "What are you doing here?" Stephen's voice was low, edged with suspicion.Enoch shrugged, glancing over at Ariane. "Heard she was sick, so I decided to come by. How's she doing?"Stephen stared at him for a long moment, unsure of how to reply. His mind flashed back to his earlier doubts. Ariane wasn't his daughter, at
Two months later, Victor stared at the address on his phone, then at the small, run-down building in front of him. It didn’t look like a place Stephen would be living. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the grass in front was overgrown. This was far from the sleek, modern apartment Stephen used to own.Victor killed the engine, stepped out of his car, and walked toward the house. It was a self-contained unit—cheap, cramped, and barely enough for one person. He checked the address again. Room number 9. It matched. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.When he reached room 9, he knocked hard. The wood felt thin under his knuckles, like the door could break if he wasn’t careful. He knocked again, louder this time.After a moment, the door creaked open. Victor’s eyebrows shot up. Standing in front of him was Stephen, but he was almost unrecognizable. His hair was longer, his face covered with a scruffy beard, and he’d gained weight—his old sharp features now s
Stephen stood in the door and watched as Victor's car dwindled to a dot on the horizon. The rumble of the motor died out, leaving only the silent night air hovering over the little neighborhood. He exhaled a breath, his hand falling to rest on the doorframe. The last two months had been rough-tougher than he ever imagined.No system to fall back on now-the network of contacts and favors that oiled his life-Stephen was forced to scrounge some means of survival for himself. Not quite glamorous, the daily fight, the eternal hustle just for the real basics. Jobs were not easy to find, not when one had burned bridges as he had. But he'd been able to find odd jobs here and there, enough just to scrape by, never enough to get any further ahead.He closed the door behind him with a quiet click. The softness echoed inside the tiny room. Glancing around at the cramped quarters, his mind strayed to the penthouse he once called home. The stark dissimilarities between where his life used to be and
Stephen stood by the door, watching as Victor’s car grew smaller in the distance. The rumble of the engine slowly faded, leaving nothing but the usual quiet that hung around the small neighborhood. He let out a breath, resting his hand on the doorframe. The last two months had been tough—tougher than he ever imagined.Without the system—the network of contacts and favors that once made his life easy—Stephen had to figure out a way to survive on his own. And it wasn’t glamorous. Every day was a grind, a constant scramble for enough money to cover the basics. Work wasn’t easy to come by, not when you’d burned as many bridges as he had. But he’d managed to find some odd jobs here and there—just enough to scrape by, though never enough to truly get ahead.He closed the door softly, the sound echoing through the small room. Glancing around the cramped space, he couldn’t help but think of the penthouse he once called home. The stark difference between his old life and this one weighed on hi
Stephen sat in the corner of a dimly lit café, staring out the window. He had sat there for hours, sipping cold coffee and watching the rain trickle down the glass. The café wasn't crowded-just a few people scattered about, lost in their conversations. His foot tapped impatiently under the table. Enoch was late. Very late.The waiter had been by twice, offering Stephen polite smiles, asking if he needed anything else. Each time, he waved him off, too intent on what was to come. His mind was reeling, questions, doubts, and a growing sense of frustration building inside him. Enoch was never this late.The doorbell above the entrance jingled, and Stephen looked up. His heart stopped at the sight of Enoch stepping inside, shaking rain from his coat. He glanced briefly around the room before his eyes fell upon Stephen, and he hastened to him, an apologetic smile on his face."Sorry to have kept you waiting," Enoch said, reaching for the chair opposite of Stephen.Stephen did not say anythi