"I was maybe 10 or 11 when I killed for the first time. I didn't do it out of anger. Nor did I do it because I really wanted to. I just did it because I could and it felt like the right thing to do. The man had killed someone I knew, so I supposed he ought to die. His last words were... Well, I don't really remember what his last words were. I'm not sure if he had any. I was too busy stabbing him to use my ears," Gadreel said as he circled the long table in the large hall.

He held his hands behind his back as he walked and eyed the nine assistants standing on the sides of the hall behind their bosses. There was nobody behind Franz.

Gadreel stopped and raised his hands in a grand manner. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about, though." He lowered his hands and looked some of the assistants in the eyes. Many had glasses. Weirdly, all three who were women had blonde hair. "But this is your first time seeing me, and I thought it would be good for me to introduce myself a little better." Gadreel looked around sheepishly. "I am not sure why I thought telling you that was a good introduction, but I guess I thought it appropriate to start from the beginning."

He kept quiet for a while longer before going back to take a seat on his seat. He took a glass of wine into his hand and took a sip while the expectant eyes of everybody in the hall harassed him.

When he was finished, he got back to it, saying, "I grew up in the city of Verdua. As you know, it has been a pile of ashes for quite some time now. But with my intention to expand Numen everywhere, I see it appropriate to rebuild my home in the name of Numen. And for a city as large as Verdua, I need to pick the very best manager for the branch." He pointed at all the assistants. "I think I'll find someone fit for the role among you."

Needless to say, the branch managers looked quite shocked. None wanted to lose their assistant. Gadreel's act was also disrespectful in many ways.

The assistants looked tense. Some more than others. But they'd been that way as soon as they stepped into the room.

"Well, before talking business, I'd like to tell more of my story. I also wanted to share my assistant experience with people who understand," Gadreel said, addressing the assistants. He then pointed to the branch managers. "These guys just don't get it."

"So, about my assistant days. I was maybe 17 or so when William took me in. William was an extraordinarily competent man. Because of that, he didn't really like inferior people interfering with his business and kept clear of assistants despite his workload. When we met, however, he began trusting someone to be as competent as he was." Gadreel started sharply tapping on the table at regular intervals. "He was a careful man. But he thought he knew me, and in a sense, he did. He certainly knew the persona I had created like the back of his hand. It was like we were reading the same script. I was the writer, and he was the director. But he did not know I was also the actor."

Gadreel looked at the president, whose eyes were still and unexpectedly fearful. His lips curved as he kept on telling the story. "William started giving me more responsibility. He had begun to trust me as more than a helper. I was beginning to resemble just an extension of him. I was his successor. Almost like a son."

"Why did you do it?" The President squeezed out those words that rang in Gadreel's ears.

And Gadreel stopped. For a second, he froze. Quickly thereafter, when he managed to gather himself, he responded, "It simply had to be done. For me. For my life. And even—in some sense—for William."

***

Chaos erupted down below.

Gadreel breathed down his cloak as Franz watched with open eyes.

"Relax, Franz. Worry yourself over nothing. Do not think useless thoughts. This is the way things have to be."

"But... how many will die tonight?"

"Tens of thousands," Gadreel stated as just another fact. Franz didn't have to say anything for Gadreel to know the contents of his mind. "It is only natural for them to die. Humans die all the time, and because of their deaths, there will be more life. It's not sad if you think about it longer. Nothing is sad. Nothing is happy. When you think about things longer and apply a rational mind to them enough times, their emotional value just fades."

"I thought you wanted to feel it all," Franz said, his voice accompanied by the screams from the pit of flames and blood that would not be Verdua much longer.

"I do. But I don't. I have no choice in the matter. My mind processes things unlike others and strips from me everything all the uncertainty that makes one human," Gadreel retorted, and again, Franz was silent. "Those people below. You don't know them. But I know them. This is my home. It is only right that I destroy it when I am one who knows its flaws."

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"Tell me again. Repeat what you swayed me with on the day we met," Franz said suddenly. "I want to see if I still agree."

Gadreel looked at Franz ambiguously before nodding.

"Why should I care for others when there is nobody here to care for me? Isn't life experienced individually for a reason? Isn't it our will to gain individual experiences that keep us alive? From what I've seen, everybody lives as such. So then, let the superior wills prevail and damn those whose wills amount to nothing, for they keep those who are superior from their individual experiences."

Franz grumbled and put his hands behind his back, turning to the sight below. "Fine then. The ones below are worthless, so what comes next and the uncertainty it brings will surely provide worthy experiences."

Gadreel let out a sigh of relief and smiled. "Exactly."

***

Gadreel sighed as he finished the long story. "You surely know the rest." He stood up and each person in the hall shook. "Well, what do you all think? An inspiring story, wasn't it? Now, is there anyone who would like to volunteer for the position of branch manager in Verdua?"

The silence was perfect.

Gadreel raised his brows and shook his head. "Oh my, how loyal you all are."

The president was stiff as a brick. The branch managers were clenching their teeth. The assistants were standing like their spines were iron.

Gadreel then looked for that one person. The one he was supposed to see today. A young man with thin gold-framed glasses.

"You," he said as he pointed at the young man. He was maybe a year younger than Gadreel but shivered when addressed by him.

"M— me?" the young man asked.

"Yes, you are Jameson's assistant, correct?" Gadreel asked and he nodded. "Your name?"

"Opis, sir."

"Oh, a fine name." Gadreel made a gesture with his hand. "Come over here."

Opis left from his spot and walked forward. The distance was only tens of meters, but the young man's slow steps made the trip last.

Gadreel smiled faintly as he could see Jameson's twisted expression from the corner of his eye.

Opis finally arrived on Gadreel's left side and bowed. "It is an honor to be in your presence."

"Likewise. I'm sure you'll be a great man. Jameson told me about how you single-handedly expanded your branch's influence to the pharmaceutical scene," Gadreel said as Opis raised his head.

"I— I di—" Opis tried, completely flustered, eyeing both Gadreel and Jameson, unable to decide who to cater to.

"Right, Jameson?" Gadreel asked as he turned to Jameson and snapped his fingers.

Opis's breath ran short as the glimmering candlelight illuminated the beads of sweat running down his face.

Jameson's face twisted. "Gadreel, what are you—"

"Are you questioning the ruler?" Franz pressed the issue from the opposite side of the table.

"I am merely making sure the isn't a misunderstanding," Jameson retored, his voice almost a yell.

More voices were about to erupt as all the branch managers leaned forward, but then a powerful fist slammed down on the table. "Please be quiet. All of you," Gadreel said gently as the slam reverberated throughout the hall.

"Now, Opis," he said as he turned to the nervous wreck in front of him. "Do you want the position?"

Opis gulped and looked around. "Can I— But, what— in the first—"

"Answer," Gadreel said, his tone deathly serious. "Yes or no."

Opis eyed Jameson whose face was neutral except for his wide, glaring eyes. Then he looked at Gadreel. "Y— yes."

"Great." A smile burst onto Gadreel's face. "But I'm not giving it to you."

Opis' tense expression dropped as if his soul had been sucked out. "What?" he asked, his weak, breathless voice barely a whisper.

"Oh, the Verdua branch is in the far future. Your reward for your accomplishment will be something far more... immediate," Gadreel said with a soothing tone as he put forward a hand.

Opis' sucked his cheeks in as he stared at Gadreel's hand. Then he moved slowly and clasped the hand in his own. Gadreel smiled.

Then with his left hand, Gadreel took a steak knife from the table on his left and sunk it into Opis' right eye. Blood sprayed onto Gadreel's white suit and Opis' mouth opened wide, but he didn't have the time to scream properly before his body was yanked forward by Gadreel pulling him with his right hand.

Opis ended up in Gadreel's arms with his back facing him, and with one fluid motion, Gadreel took the knife from his eye and threw it into his right hand after letting go of Opis. As expected, Opis squirmed. It truly was a horrible way to go. And it only grew more horrible as Gadreel took his free left hand and gouged Opis' left eye.

Only then did the screaming reach its peak.

Opis could no longer see Jameson. He couldn't know what emotion had overtaken his mentor whom he had betrayed only moments before.

Was he furious, regretful, disgusted, or did he even feel anything? Opis could not know. And after Gadreel pulled his head to the left and put the steak knife into the right side of his neck, he could no longer ask.

The screaming stopped, and the awfully dull sound of the knife penetrating the neck kept repeating as the only distinguishable sound in the hall. The sound came again and again until the object no longer squirmed.

Gadreel breathed a sigh of relief and dropped the knife as he retracted his hands. The knife made a suppressed clank sound as it hit the carpet before the corpse of Opis slumped onto the wet floor.

Only then did Gadreel look around, the face of his pristine white suit, covered in lines and splotches of blood.

Everything was still. Even Jameson could only stare with his mouth and eyes wide in terror and shock. Only Franz had moved from his seat.

Gadreel leaned toward the table and grabbed his wine glass. "You know, I didn't expect to be betrayed so soon," Gadreel remarked and turned his gaze to Jameson.

"You knew..." Jameson breathed out.

"Of course." Gadreel tilted his chin up and looked down at the man. "I think we'll bury you next to the 11th."

Jameson opened his mouth too late. Wood crunched, and more blood splattered as an ethereal great sword went through Jameson's chair and the center of his chest. Jameson let out some noise. Maybe they were meant to be words. Nobody would know.

"There is nobody here to listen to you. At least have the grace to die in silence," Franz said from behind Jameson before drawing back his great sword.

Jameson slumped forward and slammed his head on the table. And as Jameson's life poured out through his chest, Gadreel raised his glass. "Please take note of this event, ladies and gentlemen. I hope you all have learned today that if you are going to defeat me, you have to be... perfect."