"The superior man seeks to elevate himself; the common man seeks to elevate others."
— Confucius
The city moves around me like a living organism — predictable, ignorant, pliable.
I step through it, each footfall measured, deliberate, resonant.
People notice, but they do not understand.
They never do.
Lilith walks beside me, a faint shadow of restraint in her smile.
"You're… different," she murmurs, almost in awe.
I let her words linger. They are mine to shape.
Tonight, we meet Dorian Vale — a man whose reputation as untouchable was built on arrogance and fear.
He believes he controls the city.
He does not.
I enter his office uninvited, a deliberate storm of confidence. My coat drapes perfectly; my voice carries the weight of certainty.
"Dorian," I say, and he freezes — an animal recognizing a predator.
We speak of business, of alliances, of inevitability.
I do not argue. I suggest.
I do not threaten. I demonstrate the futility of opposition.
By the time I leave, Dorian's empire begins to fracture. Not through violence, but through inevitable logic.
I am untouchable because I have seen every angle, predicted every reaction, and bent it to my will.
Lilith watches, expression darkly approving.
"You move like a god among men," she whispers.
I smile — arrogant, satisfied, unflinching.
Not because of what I did, but because I knew I could.
Later, in the quiet of my apartment, I review the night.
Every reaction, every hesitation, every misstep of others — catalogued, dissected, controlled.
I feel no remorse. Only triumph.
Lilith approaches, her fingers tracing my jaw, her eyes glowing with something dangerous.
"Do you feel it?" she asks.
"Yes," I reply, voice low, certain. "The world bends where it once resisted."
She leans in, almost breathless with admiration and possessive hunger.
"Then you are ready," she murmurs.
And I know: I am no longer a man who fears.
I am a man who decides.
A man who commands.
A man whose mind and will are untouchable.
I have become… inevitable.