Damain leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed and his head tilted slightly as he exhaled a slow plu of smoke.
His chest rose and fell once before his gaze lowered to et Delaney’s. The man had remained composed, almost indifferent, throughout the exchange. Damain could not help but acknowledge it. There was sothing to be said about that level of control.
"You are not what you seem..." Delaney said, his observant eyes fixed steadily on Damain.
Under that gaze, most n faltered. So grew uneasy. Others struggled to breathe. Yet Damain sat there, smoking without a trace of discomfort, as though the weight of Delaney’s presence ant nothing.
It intrigued him.
"Does it matter? Everyone wears masks," Damain replied with a faint shrug.
Delaney let out a burst of laughter and nodded several tis. It was true. In this world, everyone hid behind sothing, concealing their real selves from public eyes. The young man’s answer struck clean and accurate.
"As expected of the man who beat a murder case in one hearing," Delaney said, his satisfaction evident as he regarded his lawyer.
"So tell about the solution you ca up with..." Delaney crossed his legs and leaned back.
He expected a long explanation, sothing detailed and thodical. Instead, a low, almost mocking chuckle escaped Damain as he raised his face to et the councilman’s eyes.
"I don’t have a solution. I have a ans to the solution you seek," Damain corrected, leaving Delaney montarily puzzled.
He hesitated, confusion flickering across his eyes as he tried to grasp the aning behind those words.
"What is this ans you talk about?" he asked directly.
Pa!
Damain clapped his hands suddenly, the sharp sound tearing through the room and shattering the old man’s composure.
In that instant, the world seed to blur for Delaney. Everything else faded until only Damain remained in focus. Sweat gathered along his brow and trickled down his face, yet despite the confusion tightening around his mind, he dared not look away.
His instincts scread at him.
The mont he broke eye contact was the mont he died.
Delaney was stunned. He had stood in the presence of the president of the most powerful nation on earth, yet never once had he felt this kind of pressure from another human being.
"I know a person who can do things like have a mother testify against her own son, just as you witnessed in the Twenty Shot murder case..." Damain said casually, a faint, friendly smile resting on his lips as though he was unaware of the suffocating weight pressing down on the man before him.
His hand moved to his shirt, slowly undoing the center button and pulling it open to reveal a chest that bore no trace of injury.
"And capable of healing a near fatal wound in an instant. That soone is willing to lend you a hand."
Buzz!
Delaney said nothing. Confusion was written plainly across his face. Of all the possibilities he had anticipated from this lawyer, this was not one of them.
Belief in things like this belonged to a much younger version of himself, long buried beneath years of power and pragmatism.
"Don’t tell you ca all this way to tell this?" Delaney’s expression hardened, his tone turning cold.
Damain remained unmoved.
He nodded without hesitation and rose to his feet.
"I’m not here to debate whether you believe or not. But I will tell you this. The man I speak of will be standing in your bedroom by midnight. He will get past your security without triggering a single alarm. Maybe then, you will begin to believe in the spiritual."
A faint, violent glint flickered in Damain’s eyes, dim yet unmistakable. It struck Delaney like a shockwave.
He jumped to his feet, stumbling around his chair in alarm, but the mont passed just as quickly as it ca. Damain’s eyes returned to normal, leaving him disoriented, questioning what he had just seen.
"I’ll be expecting your call tomorrow morning after your eting with that man," Damain said with a knowing nod before turning away.
He left behind a shaken Councilman Delaney, whose gaze remained locked on his departing figure, uncertainty clawing at his thoughts.
"Am I going crazy?" he muttered under his breath.
---
Bam!
The car door slamd shut as Damain leaned back into the seat, a faint weariness settling across his expression.
After his date tonight with Sofia, he still had to pay the councilman a visit at midnight. This ti, however, he would not go as himself.
He would arrive as sothing greater.
He would co as the faceless, the Black Pope of the City of Love Ministry.
It had taken him so ti to settle on a na, but he had finally decided. It would be a new cult, one that preached nothing but love, one that claid to spread love across the world.
The first to experience that love would be Councilman Delaney.
He would also beco the first high profile mber of this new order.
A perfect bait.
A foundation upon which other powerful figures could be drawn in.
His journey had finally begun.
"I also have an astronomical amount of taxes and property maintenance fees to deal with, thanks to my loving wives," Damain muttered, letting out a defeated sigh.
Every ti he thought about the seventy-five million dollar estate on the central coast of California, a place he never asked for, his chest tightened as though sothing was pressing into it.
Sensing his mood, his wives had chosen not to return until the following night.
Even they knew when to give him space.
"Where do we go next?" Loth’s question cut cleanly through Damain’s train of thought.
He paused for a mont, considering. He could return to work, but it was already late afternoon. There was nothing aningful left for him to accomplish there.
"I need to go shopping for so new clothes. I have a date by nine," Damain said calmly.
"I understand." Loth nodded, and the engine ca to life with a low, steady roar.
Ding!
A ssage from Clara flashed across his screen, asking about his whereabouts. Damain smiled faintly.
Damian: Sothing ca up. I’ll pick you up for work tomorrow morning.
With that, he set his phone to do not disturb. Tonight was going to be busy, and the last thing he needed was distraction.
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