The rain outside pelted against the dormitory windows, drowning the usual evening chatter. Students hurried through the halls, grumbling about wet socks and canceled plans. Ethan sat at his desk, unmoving, his face bathed in the glow of his lamp.
Across from him, Ryan Cooper fidgeted nervously on the edge of the bed. The boy's earlier bravado had withered under Ethan's unblinking stare.
"You said you wanted people to respect you," Ethan began, voice calm, precise. "Respect is not given. It's engineered."
Ryan swallowed. "Right. So… what do I do?"
Ethan leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "Something small. A test. Consider it your first step toward shedding Derek's shadow."
Ryan's jaw clenched at the mention of Derek. Ethan had noticed that — the twitch of irritation, the resentment bubbling beneath years of humiliation. A raw nerve he could press again and again until it bled obedience.
"There's a faculty meeting tomorrow," Ethan continued. "Wallace — the professor who's been breathing down your neck — will be there. Derek plans to volunteer for a project that could put him in good graces with Wallace. If he succeeds, it'll solidify his position. If he fails…" Ethan's lips curved faintly, "…he'll look like a fool."
Ryan's brow furrowed. "And you want me to… make him fail?"
"Correct. Quietly. Subtly. You're not to be caught. If people see your hand, it won't be sabotage — it'll be petty revenge. That's beneath me. And beneath you, if you want to rise."
Ryan shifted, uneasy. "But… what do I even do? Wallace already doesn't like me. If I mess with Derek—"
"Then you'll finally stop being his dog," Ethan cut in, voice sharp enough to slice through Ryan's hesitation. "Are you afraid of risk?"
Ryan opened his mouth, then closed it, cheeks burning. "…No."
"Good." Ethan reached into the void of the Celestial Inventory, unseen by Ryan. He summoned a small, sleek device — a pen-like tool from a distant universe, capable of disrupting electronics for a few seconds with a simple press. In his hand, it looked ordinary. In Ryan's, it would be a silent dagger.
He placed it on the desk between them. "Slip this into Derek's bag before the meeting. His presentation relies on his laptop. When the time is right, press the switch. One second. That's all it takes. His system will crash. Data corrupted. Hours of preparation, gone. He'll panic. Wallace will lose patience. And you…" Ethan's eyes glimmered coldly, "…will remain invisible."
Ryan stared at the pen, then back at Ethan. His lips parted, unsure whether to laugh or tremble. "This is… this is insane."
"No," Ethan corrected. "This is inevitable. The difference between men who are remembered, and men who are forgotten."
Silence stretched between them. Ryan's fingers twitched before finally closing around the pen. His grip was unsteady, but his decision was made.
"Fine," Ryan muttered. "I'll do it."
Ethan leaned back, the faintest smile ghosting across his lips. "Good. And Ryan?"
"Yeah?"
"If you fail me… remember that I don't tolerate failure. From anyone."
Ryan stiffened, nodding quickly. "I won't."
The following day, Ethan watched from the back of the lecture hall as the faculty assembled. Students loitered outside, buzzing about the presentations. Derek strutted in with his usual arrogance, laptop in hand, nodding to his hangers-on like a king greeting his court.
Ryan slipped in a moment later, face pale but eyes sharp. Ethan noted every twitch of his posture, every nervous glance, but the boy didn't falter. He sat two rows back, Derek's bag within reach.
The professors called the meeting to order. Derek was announced as the next presenter. He walked confidently to the front, plugging in his laptop. Slides flickered onto the projector, crisp and professional.
Then Ethan saw it — Ryan's hand dipping casually into Derek's bag, thumb brushing the switch of the pen. A faint pulse rippled unseen across the room. Derek's laptop screen froze.
Confusion spread across Derek's face as he tapped the keys, clicked the trackpad, muttered curses under his breath. The screen flickered, then went black. His carefully arranged data was gone.
The murmurs started. Wallace's patience snapped. "Mr. Hale, if you can't manage a simple presentation, don't waste our time."
Derek sputtered excuses, but they fell flat. He looked cornered, humiliated, small.
From the shadows of the back row, Ethan's lips curled into a cold smile.
Ryan's eyes darted toward him, searching for approval. Ethan gave none. A true puppet needed to crave the strings.
That evening, back in his dorm, Ethan penned another entry in his logbook:
Experiment Log – Phase Five:
Target D (Ryan Cooper) successfully executed first task. Nervous, but compliant.
Subject demonstrated willingness to obey despite fear.
Derek Hale's reputation weakened; Wallace's frustration redirected.
Conclusion: Ryan's dependence deepens. Phase Two: expand influence.
Ethan closed the book, his expression calm. The Celestial Inventory gave him infinite tools, but this — watching human pawns dance to his design — was art.
And art required patience.
The empire was still nothing more than a whisper, but soon, the world would hear it roar.