Adrian Veyne had never believed in surrender. His empire was built on defiance—against rivals, against doubt, against the limits others tried to place on him. And now, faced with a curse that whispered his name in the dark, he refused to yield.
The next morning, his penthouse was filled with strangers. Priests, exorcists, scientists, even a psychic flown in from another city. Adrian stood tall at the center of the room, his presence commanding, his voice sharp.
"You will find the source," he ordered. "You will end it."
The priest sprinkled holy water across the marble floor, chanting prayers that echoed against the glass walls. The psychic closed her eyes, murmuring about restless souls. The scientist set up instruments, wires snaking across the room, machines humming.
Elara watched from the window, her expression unreadable. "They won't help you," she said softly.
Adrian ignored her. Control was everything. If one method failed, another would succeed. He had crushed empires with persistence; he would crush this curse the same way.
But as the priest's prayers rose, the lights flickered. The water on the floor darkened, spreading like ink. The psychic gasped, clutching her chest. "They're too strong," she whispered. "They don't want to leave."
The scientist's machines screeched, screens flashing with unreadable symbols. He staggered back, pale. "This isn't measurable. It's… it's impossible."
Adrian's fury surged. "Nothing is impossible. Everything has a price. Everything can be broken."
The whispers rose, louder now, filling the penthouse. Adrian Veyne. Adrian Veyne. The voices overlapped, a chorus of hunger.
The chandelier trembled, crystals chiming like bells. Papers flew from the desk, scattering across the floor. The priest dropped his cross, the psychic fled, the scientist stammered excuses. One by one, they left, their fear palpable.
Adrian stood alone, his empire's ruler facing an enemy beyond reason. His breath was ragged, but his defiance burned.
Elara's voice was quiet, almost tender. "You can't fight them with money. You can't fight them with power. The more you resist, the stronger they become."
Adrian turned sharply, his eyes blazing. "Then I'll resist until they break. I don't surrender. Not to rivals. Not to ghosts. Not to anyone."
The glass wall cracked again, jagged lines splitting the skyline's reflection. The faceless figures pressed closer, their mouths open in silent screams.
Adrian's fists clenched. He had faced betrayal, collapse, ruin. But this—this was war against the unseen. And he would not lose.
The whispers rose into a roar, shaking the penthouse. The chandelier crashed to the floor, shards scattering like stars.
And in the reflection, Adrian saw himself—not the man of control, not the empire's ruler, but a figure surrounded by shadows, his face fading into theirs.
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