"The secret of power is never to will to do more than you can accomplish."
— Niccolò Machiavelli
The world is a chessboard.
I knew it before — in theory, in text, in the careful reading of men like Machiavelli and Dostoevsky.
But tonight, theory became action.
Lilith watched me over her book — her posture calm, elegant, predatory.
"You need a target," she murmured. "Someone small. Someone who believes in fairness. Perfect for practice."
I studied him: Martin Veers, a colleague who smiled too much, trusted too easily, carried the kind of arrogance that came from ignorance.
He thought the world owed him civility.
Lilith leaned closer. Her breath grazed my ear.
"Remember," she whispered, "manipulate the mind first. The body will follow. Fear is clumsy. Control is exquisite."
I nodded, and I felt it — the thrill of it. Not cruelty. Not violence. Power.
The game began with a letter — forged, carefully worded, suggesting Martin's colleague was conspiring against him.
A seed of doubt. A twist of paranoia.
By morning, Martin had confronted the wrong man, humiliated himself, and I had done nothing visible.
Lilith smiled, a slow, dangerous curve.
"See? The world bends before intellect and patience."
I watched Martin crumble — like watching glass shatter without touching it.
And in that moment, I realized: I enjoyed it.
Not the suffering. Not the fear.
The control.
And Lilith, seated beside me, became both my mirror and my mentor.