But he didn't stop there. With the same fluidity, Daniel dialed a second number on his cell phone. This one, he knew, was a contact who rarely answered to anyone other than the highest echelons of the industry. The call took a little longer to be answered, two full rings, but when the deep, authoritative voice answered, Daniel was even more direct.
"It's Daniel. I need a lead role for Elara Vance. A big one. In Werner Studios' next big release, the one coming out at the end of the year. Something that creates buzz, that puts her at the top of the A-list. Make it happen. You know what I mean. You owe me big, don't forget." Daniel's tone was cold, unwavering. There was a story there, a past favor, a debt that was being called in mercilessly. The voice on the other end, which Elara couldn't hear, seemed to express surprise and perhaps a touch of reluctance, but the final answer was, "It will be done, Daniel. Consider it done." Daniel ended the call without a goodbye, his fingers sliding to lock the phone screen, which returned to its inertia.
The silence that followed between them was thicker than the noise of the club. Elara was paralyzed, her eyes fixed on Daniel, the realization of what she had just witnessed crashing over her in waves. He hadn't just made phone calls; he had rewritten her future, her professional destiny, in less than two minutes. The idea seemed absurd, a fantasy worthy of one of Hollywood's most daring scripts, but she knew, with a chilling certainty, that it was real. The man before her wasn't talking theory; he was demonstrating power.
Daniel looked at her, his eyes deep and enigmatic, a faint smile playing on his lips, like a chess player who's just delivered checkmate. "Let's wait," he said, his voice calm and almost amused, the contrast with the grandeur of his actions shocking. He nodded to the cell phone in his hand. "How long will my equation take?"
The cat-and-mouse conversation continued, but now the role of the "mouse" was undeniably Elara's. She felt exposed, her professional life, her dreams and ambitions, which she had worked so hard to build, suddenly manipulated by a man she had just met, a man who could, with a few taps on a cell phone, alter her trajectory. There was a complex mix of shock, admiration, disbelief, and even a glimmer of fear in her eyes. Daniel had not just promised; he had acted, decisively and irrefutably. She had been the observer, the script reader. Now, she was part of a script Daniel was writing. And the mouse was, indeed, about to be caught. The dance had become an embrace, and Elara was being dragged to the center of Daniel's stage.
Daniel and Elara were immersed in their own world, the party atmosphere and buzz of the 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar becoming a mere backdrop to the complexity of the conversation unfolding. The oysters and lobster, served with an almost magical exclusivity, were a silent testament to Daniel's invisible power, and Elara, though dazzled, still tried to decipher the logic behind this enigmatic man. The wine in her glass seemed more intense, and Daniel's whiskey shimmered like liquid gold in the dim lights.
"You speak of life's scripts, of human patterns," Elara said, her voice holding a tone of gentle challenge even as her moss-green eyes fixed on his with growing intensity. "But what do people do with these scripts? Do they follow them, or try to rewrite them? And you, Daniel, are the writer, the director, or just the final editor?"
Daniel smiled, a gleam of cunning in his eyes that made her breath catch for a moment. He leaned forward slightly, closing the distance between them, his voice becoming a deep murmur that forced her to focus on him, to ignore the world around her. "Elara, you say that everything in life is a ritual, a movie script, that people sometimes do or want to be, right? They try to live the role of their dreams, follow the clichés imposed on them. But those with power make things happen. Even in the shadows. There are people who are merely actors, and others who move the scenery, change other people's lines. That person who solves the dead ends, the equation that can't be added up for decades or even hundreds of years. That person who doesn't ask permission to rewrite destiny, but simply does it." He stared into her eyes, his presence mesmerizing her, making her unable to look away. He wasn't bragging; was declaring a fundamental truth about the universe he inhabited.
Elara swallowed, feeling the weight of his words. It was a declaration of pure power, not brute force, but control, an ability to manipulate reality on a scale she could barely conceive. She, an actress, lived by acting out scripts, bringing to life worlds created by others. Daniel, in turn, seemed to create his own worlds, his own scripts.
Daniel continued, his voice weaving a web of words that enveloped her. "You, for example…" He paused, the whiskey in his glass feeling almost static. "A movie just came out, didn't it?" The question didn't require an answer; it was a statement, a demonstration of his knowledge. His eyes didn't lose their intensity, fixed on hers. He didn't wait for her to confirm. His expression already showed he knew.
Elara nodded slowly, her lips parting slightly in surprise. The film, a critically acclaimed but limited-release independent drama, was her latest project. How did he know? The question lingered in her eyes.
"I'll show you the equation I make happen," Daniel said, his voice a deeper tone now, filled with a cold, impressive promise. He didn't ask permission, nor did he hesitate. The act was premeditated, a moment of pure theater for his audience of one.
He withdrew hiscell phone, a device with a minimalist design, but a technological complexity Elara had never seen before. The screen, seemingly switched off, lit up with a light touch of his thumb, revealing a clean interface full of encrypted information that passed at a speed incomprehensible to the average observer. Daniel dialed a number first, without consulting his phonebook, as if the digits were engraved in his very DNA. He waited only one ring before the call was answered.
The voice on the other end was hurried, professional, with a tone of immediate deference. Daniel, however, used no formalities. His voice was clear and concise, cutting through the ambient noise of the bar with a precision Elara found almost frightening. "I want Elara Vance's film—'The Labyrinth of the Soul,' to be exact—to start breaking out. I want advertising on every major network, I want critics praising it, and I want the streaming platform algorithms to put it in front of millions of eyes. I want it to become a cultural phenomenon within a week. You have twenty-four hours to present me with a plan of action, and forty-eight to see it implemented. Make it happen." Daniel's voice was a command, not a request, and the response on the other end was a "Understood, sir. Starting immediately" before he ended the call with a simple tap.
Elara watched the scene, her wine glass forgotten in her hand. Her eyes were wide, surprise and disbelief colliding on her face. That film... it had been out for a month, and while the reviews had been good, the publicity had been meager. It was an arthouse film, destined for festivals, not a mass phenomenon. And Daniel... he had just ordered it to become one.
But he didn't stop there. With the same fluidity, Daniel dialed a second number on his cell phone. This one, he knew, was a contact who rarely answered to anyone other than the highest echelons of the industry. The call took a little longer to be answered, two full rings, but when the deep, authoritative voice answered, Daniel was even more direct.
"It's Daniel. I need a lead role for Elara Vance. A big one. In Werner Studios' next big release, the one coming out at the end of the year. Something that creates buzz, that puts her at the top of the A-list. Make it happen. You know what I mean. You owe me big, don't forget." Daniel's tone was cold, unwavering. There was a story there, a past favor, a debt that was being called in mercilessly. The voice on the other end, which Elara couldn't hear, seemed to express surprise and perhaps a touch of reluctance, but the final answer was, "It will be done, Daniel. Consider it done." Daniel ended the call without a goodbye, his fingers sliding to lock the phone screen, which returned to its inertia.
The silence that followed between them was thicker than the noise of the club. Elara was paralyzed, her eyes fixed on Daniel, the realization of what she had just witnessed crashing over her in waves. He hadn't just made phone calls; he had rewritten her future, her professional destiny, in less than two minutes. The idea seemed absurd, a fantasy worthy of one of Hollywood's most daring scripts, but she knew, with a chilling certainty, that it was real. The man before her wasn't talking theory; he was demonstrating power.
Daniel looked at her, his eyes deep and enigmatic, a faint smile playing on his lips, like a chess player who's just delivered checkmate. "Let's wait," he said, his voice calm and almost amused, the contrast with the grandeur of his actions shocking. He nodded to the cell phone in his hand. "How long will my equation take?"
The cat-and-mouse conversation continued, but now the role of the "mouse" was undeniably Elara's. She felt exposed, her professional life, her dreams and ambitions, which she had worked so hard to build, suddenly manipulated by a man she had just met, a man who could, with a few taps on a cell phone, alter her trajectory. There was a complex mix of shock, admiration, disbelief, and even a glimmer of fear in her eyes. Daniel had not just promised; he had acted, decisively and irrefutably. She had been the observer, the script reader. Now, she was part of a script Daniel was writing. And the mouse was, indeed, about to be caught. The dance had become an embrace, and Elara was being dragged to the center of Daniel's stage.
The New York night breeze blew gently over the 230 Fifth Rooftop Bar, but the air around Daniel and Elara was thick with the intensity of their exchange. Daniel's hand still rested lightly on Elara's after their handshake, and his eyes, deep and challenging, held hers in an invisible force field. The invitation to unravel his nature was irresistible, and Elara, an actress accustomed to immersing herself in characters and narratives, now felt part of a much larger, more real story.
The silence, filled only by the distant hum of the club, was abruptly broken by thevibrating sound from Elara's cell phoneThe phone she had set aside lit up on the coffee table, her agent's name flashing on the screen. That name, in that moment, was a warning sign. Elara picked up the phone, hesitating for a moment before answering. Her voice, when she answered, was a whisper of surprise. "Yes, Mark? What? But how...?"
On the other end of the line, Mark, her agent's voice, was a torrent of excitement and confusion, barely audible to Daniel, but the key words Elara managed to utter to herself were enough. "The movie? A million dollars in advertising in less than an hour? An article in Variety? Who is this person next to you, Elara? Take care of her! Whoever she is, they just catapulted your career into a new orbit!" Mark's words were irrefutable proof of Daniel's power. Elara's face paled, and then a flush of disbelief spread across her cheeks. Her eyes widened, fixed on Daniel. She hung up, still stunned, and barely had time to process before her cell phone rang again.
This time, it was a number Elara recognized as being from high up in theWerner StudiosAnother short conversation, filled with shock and awe on the other end. Elara barely managed to respond, only nodding in shock. "Yes... yes, I get it... a lead role? In the winter blockbuster? I... I don't know what to say." She hung up again, the phone still in her trembling hand, as if it were a magical object.
Almost instantly, like a perfectly choreographed spectacle, Elara opened one of the social media platforms on her phone. And what she saw took her breath away.News about the film was popping up on social media in less than 24 hours.– no, less than five minutes after Daniel's calls. The trailer for "The Labyrinth of the Soul" was featured on all streaming platforms, with millions of views. Reviews from prestigious newspapers, previously slow to appear, now praised her performance with superlatives. Hashtags with her name and the film's title were trending. The world was starting to talk about Elara Vance, just as Daniel had promised. The buzz was becoming a roar, and she was at the center of the storm.
Elara looked up at Daniel, her phone still in her hand, but her attention completely focused on him. Her lips were parted in shock, and a mixture of awe and fascination filled her eyes. She was in the presence of someone who not only knew the script, but was writing and directing it in real time. "Daniel…" she began, her voice barely above a whisper, unsure of what to say.
Daniel, however, seemed completely oblivious to the hurricane he had unleashed. He picked up a large shrimp from the silver platter, his movements graceful and relaxed. "Elara," he said, his voice calm, his eyes fixed on her, as if trying to decipher a new equation on her face. "I write scripts. Some good. Some bad. It depends on which script I'm focused on. And, as you just saw, I make them happen." He wasn't boasting; he was simply stating a fact, as if describing the weather.