"He who despises himself still respects himself as one who despises. The depth of the abyss is measured by the courage to leap."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
The city thrummed with suffering. Its streets were veins clogged with despair, the air thick with whispered betrayals. A man slipped from a construction scaffold — the accident precise enough to fool every witness. Only we knew it had been orchestrated. A CEO removed quietly, his arrogance punished while the city called it misfortune.
Lilith moved beside me, her presence now permanent in my apartment. She had arranged her things seamlessly among mine — her books, her scent, her precision. I could feel the shift in power; she owned a part of my world, and I reveled in letting her.
We watched the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Neon reflected off puddles of melted snow like bleeding light. The weak scrambled for scraps while the powerful smiled behind glass walls. Corruption wasn't hidden; it was flaunted. Lies paraded as law. Justice was a commodity.
Lilith leaned forward, tracing a finger along the table. "See them, Kael? Every one of them crawling over each other, betraying, sacrificing, screaming, pretending they matter."
I did see. And it was intoxicating.
We struck next. The shell corporations weren't just financial hubs — they were sanctuaries of moral rot. We dismantled them methodically: data leaked to enemies, hidden debts revealed, allies turned against each other with digital whispers, public scandals fabricated with the precision of surgeons.
At 2:13 AM, the CEO's "accident" was reported. Witnesses murmured about slippery scaffolding. Nobody questioned the timing. Only we knew how we had nudged fate — small manipulations, imperceptible until the collapse. The look in his associates' eyes when they realized they had been used was almost beautiful.
Lilith's eyes glittered. "And you feel nothing?"
"Nothing but… clarity," I said. "Chaos is the most honest language."
The weak fell like leaves in autumn. Employees forced out, reputations shredded, families ruined overnight. And yet the city pretended it was all coincidence, all fate. I understood it perfectly. Fate was a mask, morality a performance — and we had torn the mask off.
Lilith's fingers brushed my jaw. "You are becoming… cold enough to rival the city itself."
"Cold enough to survive it," I corrected her. "Cold enough to shape it."
Her smile was dangerous, approving. "And yet you still seek me."
"Yes," I admitted, almost proudly. "Because even the strongest need something to anchor their chaos."
In the quiet aftermath, the city screamed in whispers. The abyss below each soul yawned wider. And we — predators above the noise — smiled at the reflection of our will, knowing the cracks in everyone else's world were our playground.