{2nd December, 546 DTA}
"So… you want me to contact a doctor about your condition?" Aria asked, watching Damien closely from across the room.
"Yes," Damien replied. "Preferably someone we can buy."
Aria blinked, her brows raising just slightly.
Damien caught himself and soon realised his mistake.
"I mean someone we can employ as a personal doctor, I didn't mean buy literally" he clarified.
"Right," Aria said, a bit too quickly. "Sorry. Given everything we're working on… my mind just went to the shady version first."
Damien chuckled. "Understandable. Your nerves are really tense because we're knee-deep in some pretty questionable stuff."
Aria nodded, but she asked. "Why not just go to a normal hospital?"
"The nature of my illness… isn't exactly normal," Damien said. "It needs special treatment. Things you can't get from a public or even private hospital."
She didn't press further. Instead, she spun her chair around and got to work.
Damien watched as Aria buried herself in her laptop. She erased her digital footprint, activated a few encrypted channels, and began combing through databases.
It took nearly an hour, but eventually she she found one that matched Damien's specs.
"There are a few high-end facilities in the city," she said. "They mostly cater to private contractors—people with injuries that can't involve the authorities."
Damien raised an eyebrow. "So they'll help me?"
"If you pay," Aria said. "Although I Know I don't have to worry I still have to say this… don't try to strong-arm them. Some of their doctors come from old money and can retaliate harder than you can threaten."
He nodded. "Fair enough."
A few minutes later, she connected him to one of the clinics. Aria stepped out of the room as the video connected.
A video call opened, and on the screen appeared a stunning woman in a white lab coat.
Her ocean-blue eyes were sharp, her black hair tied back in a loose bun. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose as she gave him a once-over.
"You look a bit young to be contacting us," she said, her voice calm and professional. "What organization do you work for?"
"I don't work for any organisation," Damien said evenly.
And that earned him a raised eyebrow.
"Then how exactly did you access our channels? These networks aren't public.
They're reserved for corporations and individuals with deep ties to the underworld and looking at you… you don't look old enough to have gone through enough training."
Damien leaned forward, clasping his hands. He knew one wrong answer would end the call immediately.
"I have a very good assistant," he said plainly. "She's skilled with stuff like this and found your channel although according to her it wasn't quite easy. I need your help and there aren't many people I can ask."
Dr. Riley's expression didn't change, but her interest was clear.
"And you're just admitting that? You do know the underworld has rules. Never show weakness unless you want to be eaten alive."
"I didn't know," Damien said, shrugging.
"And even if I did—I don't care. I need help. Can you give it, or not?"
There was a pause.
"That depends. Start by explaining your condition," she said. "And refer to me as Dr, Riley."
"Understood," Damien said. "I don't know the name of the condition exactly… but I'm constantly weak and have no energy. It's not random... I know the cause. I just can't tell you what it is."
He exhaled, tone steady. "I'm not here to lie to you. I just need the body-enhancement serum you're working on. I believe it might be able to help."
Dr. Riley studied him for a moment. Then her smile returned—this time more intrigued.
"I'm happy to work with you… if you let me study your body," she said. "But I won't lie. It's going to cost you. Out of pocket, minimum of $500,000."
"Money's not a problem," Damien replied, smiling faintly. Not yet anyway, he thought. "I'll take a look at your work first. If I'm satisfied, we move forward. Fair?"
"Fair," she said. "We'll meet in three days. The location will be sent through the same channel you used to reach me. Don't bring any medical records—I'll find your file myself."
"See you on the 5th then. Have a good day, Dr. Riley."
"You too, Mr…" she asked
"Morningstar." Damien continued.
"Mr Morningstar." She rolled her eyes before ending the call.
Damien leaned back in his chair.
Step one—done.
*******
{3nd December, 545 DTA}
The next morning came quietly, without any other important action.
Damien spent most of the day in his room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with a new laptop balanced on his thighs.
Just reading.
He skimmed through summaries of books—books that had been recommended in every self-improvement forum and leadership training thread he'd ever seen.
'The 48 Laws of Power.'
'Leaders Eat Last.'
'The Five Dysfunctions of a Team.'
'How to Win Friends and Influence People.'
'Start with Why.'
Mixed in were less noble titles, ones focused on manipulation, reading body language, social engineering.
He didn't go deep into any of them.
Right now, he just needed the gist—ideas to help him with what he was planning.
Neither Him nor the original Damien ever had any leadership training or role, so he was now starting from scratch.
Elijah had spent most of his time on the internet, livestream and gaming, his assistant Mary handled it all while Damien spent most of his time fornicating with Enzo and Aria planning everything.
The strange thing was, the more he read, the more he realized… he'd already done a some of the suggested techniques before.
There was that time he'd managed to talk the guild—an elite and often selfish organization—into building a hospital.
His explanation to the board of elders was that on the surface while on the surface it could be a selfless act like providing free healthcare for minor issues, subsidies for more serious treatments.
It was also a strategic move.
Building on his already good reputation the guild could gain Good PR, community goodwill, tax right off.
The irony was that it eventually backfired.
Not only did they turn on him they also used the very hospital he had built to kill him.
Still, it showed him two very important.
First, influence wasn't about what was true... it was about knowing what people wanted to hear and giving them a version that helped you too.
Next, If he had participated in the meetings and used his influence in the guild well Charles would have been unable to kill him off so easily, he could have even taken the guild… funny enough that was the same thing that drove Charles to kill him.
The influence he gained which he failed to use killed him and that also gave him another idea.
From across the hall, he could hear Aria barking orders.
"No… careful with that, it's a server, not a suitcase! Yeah, that goes in the corner… closest to the window. No, not that corner… the other one."
Her voice echoed from the office space next door. A room the original Damien had apparently never used for anything beyond signing documents and keeping mail.
Now, it was being transformed.
Servers, monitors, keyboards, cables... everything was being hauled in, piece by piece.
Damien wasn't exactly sure what the final setup would look like, but he trusted her.
As far as he knew Aria didn't do half-measures, especially when it came to IT which she loved.
He looked back down at his screen. A line from one of the books stuck out to him:
'Power doesn't have to be forcefully seized, it can be taken—slowly, and often without people realizing they were handing it over.'
Damien read it again, then closed the tab.
He leaned back, eyes on the ceiling.
Outside, the low noise of organisation continued. Inside, Damien's mind kept turning.