The Unholy Alliance
The two stood in silence for a brief moment without exchanging any words, and Vela abruptly left, carrying the lingering embarrassment with every step she took. The weight of her inner conflict echoed in the subtle hesitations of her movements.
"Ah, shit. Damn it! How could he come home early? And do I look weird?" Vela questioned herself, a mixture of self-consciousness and bewilderment evident in her demeanor.
Her face displayed a reaction, with a flush of red adorning both of her cheeks, and her body radiated warmth, not just from embarrassment but from a genuine, unspoken concern.
Every move Vela made exuded an extraordinary sense of awkwardness and shame as she walked away.
Despite her attempts to normalize her gestures, the reality that, "Do I appear embarrassing because I secretly care about him?" continued to haunt her throughout the day.
Her internal monologue reflected the intricate dance of emotions she was navigating, a delicate balance between vulnerability and the desire to maintain composure.
"Vela, wait! Hey! Listen to me!" Viktor called after her, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty in his voice. "Ah, haha. Thanks for the food—"
The effortlessly beautiful woman remained unfazed, departing without being able to conceal her concern for Viktor.
Meanwhile, the warmth that had long vanished from Viktor's life slowly—albeit slightly—resurfaced within the young man, permeating through every working blood vessel in his body.
The simple act of Vela leaving a bag of food brought forth a profound realization of human connection and kindness, breathing life into a corner of Viktor's world that had been shrouded in darkness.
"Thank you." Viktor examined the package of food containing sausages, vegetables, and instant noodles, a newfound appreciation reflected in his eyes.
"You're really kind, Vela. Why was I so blind to the bitterness of life that I didn't notice? Ah!"
His reflective words carried a mix of gratitude and self-discovery, capturing the complexity of emotions sparked by this unexpected gesture of kindness.
With a few spices of memories from the past, recalling the beautiful moments and laughter that used to brighten each day, Viktor smiled.
It wasn't an extravagant smile, but rather a rare one from a young man ensnared by the injustices of the world.
The smile lingered as Viktor entered his room, unwrapping the package of food and savoring it carefully.
" ... well, no matter how rough things have been yesterday and today, at least I still have someone sincere and caring about me."
The gentle stirrings of these positive emotions resonated softly within him, casting a subtle but uplifting light on Viktor's recent gloomy disposition.
He came to the realization that Vela showed no signs of being bothered by his less-than-ideal circumstances, a situation that might be considered off-putting for most people.
His appearance mirrored that of a financially struggling man who hadn't quite mastered the art of self-improvement.
His room, permeated with an unpleasant odor and cluttered with discarded items, seemed far from inviting.
In a moment of self-awareness, Viktor voiced his thoughts, "I must look like a poor guy who's terrible at getting his life together."
"Life doesn't feel all that sad when there's just one person who cares ... genuinely," Viktor mused, gazing at the ceiling of his room as he reclined, temporarily forgetting the task of cleaning up the accumulated and decaying remnants of food scattered throughout the room.
His head pulsated with a persistent ache, a symptom that had lingered since the onset of the fever.
Similarly, his body temperature continued to rise. However, the overwhelming fatigue and weakness, coupled with his limited financial means, led Viktor to choose sleep over purchasing medicine or seeking medical attention.
Next ensued the human mechanism that occurs when one is asleep.
Fever-induced dreams, always feeling vivid and peculiar, carried Viktor away, providing a brief respite from the realities of his life.
In this state of slumber, he momentarily forgot about his struggles and immersed himself in the surreal landscapes of his fevered dreams.
***
The enigmatic demon, who served as Octavius's bedrock of success, remained an indomitable entity, seasoned through countless encounters and leaving a trail of thousands of victims—many of whom were predecessors of his current master.
Engaging in a pact with this entity was akin to wielding a double-edged sword, for it granted prosperity but carried the perilous weight of potential ruin.
It was a widely kept secret that every entrepreneur navigating the cutthroat world of competition possessed a shield and weapon in the form of an otherworldly pact.
Octavius, then reigning over the pharmaceutical industry, was no exception.
This demon, a shadowy force in the business magnate's life, had a storied history of sealing agreements with influential figures.
Its experience spanned countless generations, accumulating a gruesome tally of sacrifices, courtesy of its previous masters.
The nature of this unholy alliance was both a guarded secret and an open secret—a dangerous pact, a potent elixir.
Those who succeeded in this cutthroat world often found themselves indebted to such malevolent entities, seeking protection, power, and influence beyond the scope of mortal endeavors.
Octavius, having mastered the art of this dark contract, enjoyed unparalleled success in the pharmaceutical realm.
Yet, the question lingered: How many had fallen by the wayside, sacrificed at the altar of ambition?
The alluring promise of prosperity walked hand in hand with the ominous specter of potential catastrophe.
In the opaque corridors of Octavius's empire, the demon's influence wove through the fabric of power, shaping destinies and securing victories.
It was a risky dance with the supernatural, where every step forward extracted a toll from the businessman's soul.
The success of Octavius was a testament to the price paid, willingly or unwittingly, for deals struck in the shadows.
Octavius took a sip of his expensive beer with an unwavering, cold gaze, betraying no hint of emotion.
Seated in his opulent office throne, the very room where he once initiated his business endeavors, he contemplated the formidable entity known as Ralmas – a demon and monster of considerable strength.