08:45 a.m.
Dirga was ready.
Suit sharp. Tie in place. Expression cold. The city outside still shimred in quiet ignorance — unaware that its new king was already watching from the tower.
He still had fifteen minutes before the board eting and the press conference.
Enough ti to let everyone arrive first, get seated, let the whispers grow.
Then make an entrance.
He walked to the kitchen and toasted a simple piece of bread. Ate it standing, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone.
A ssage blinked into view.
Jane.
"Hey, is that you on TV? From broke-ass nobody to owning half the city? Damn. Save a devil deal for next ti."
(attached photo: Jane holding Naya’s hand in the hospital)
Dirga stared at the screen, lips twitching into sothing close to a smile.
He had told Jane earlier that he wouldn’t be able to visit today. But she understood. She always did.
He replied with a simple emoji: a simple saluting emoji
And a ssage beneath:
"Enjoy the show."
The door swung open.
"Boss."
Lilith stepped in, crisp and excited. A folder in one hand, a phone in the other.
"Just got the call. Vantasio’s lawyers confird it — the final transfer went through. You now officially own 100% of the empire."
Dirga nodded once.
"Good. Arrange the redistribution. Give twenty percent to the board. Consider it a feeding trough — sothing to keep them fat and quiet."
Lilith’s grin was sharp.
"Already ahead of you. Got fifteen percent spoken for. That last five?"
She tapped her temple.
"Mine. For my loyalty, of course."
Dirga raised an eyebrow.
"Mm. Fair enough."
She leaned against the doorfra with a small cheer, sipping her coffee like it was champagne.
But Dirga’s focus shifted.
"The last problem," he said. "What’s his na again?"
Lilith’s grin vanished.
She pulled a thin file from her folder and handed it over.
"Lucian Marruk. Started as a bodyguard for Vantasio. Earned his trust through... let’s say, brutal efficiency. Vantasio eventually handed him full control of the underground assets — clubs, gambling, backdoor deals. Loyalty without a leash."
Dirga looked at the photo.
Lucian’s face was lean, weathered — like a coyote that had seen too much and slept too little. Thin mustache, eyes like rusted blades. Not tall, but coiled. Every inch of him said silent violence.
"After the conference," Dirga said, folding the photo. "I’ll pay him a visit."
Lilith hesitated.
"Want to arrange security?"
Dirga shook his head.
"I’ll go alone."
She opened her mouth, but then stopped.
For a mont, she looked at him not like a man — but like sothing else.
She rembered the weight of his presence. The warning in his voice.
And she understood.
Dirgantara didn’t need protection.
He was the danger.
...
The clock ticked past 09:10 a.m.
Showti.
Lilith tapped on the door, poking her head in.
"Boss. It’s ti."
Dirga stood without a word, suit already perfect. He walked ahead, and Lilith followed — flanked by two silent, well-dressed bodyguards she’d personally arranged. Not for safety. For presence.
To amplify the gravity that already clung to Dirga like smoke.
The hum of conversation and dia chatter grew louder as they neared the conference hall. Then—
Click.
Dirga opened the door.
And silence fell like a guillotine.
Dozens of board mbers. Corporate heads. Senior executives.
And now, the press.
All of them fell quiet at once.
They didn’t even know why.
They just felt it — the weight of sothing unnatural in the room.
Dirga had practiced this.
He had used karma to train it.
A subtle, crushing aura.
Power made palpable.
He walked calmly to the end of the long, polished table.
Took his seat.
Tapped the mic with two fingers.
"Hello."
Smooth. Cool. Absolute.
"You know who I am. I’m the one Mr. Domiscus Vantasio chose to inherit this empire before his passing."
No long introduction.
No pleasantries.
Just truth — spoken with blade-like simplicity.
The board remained silent. Whether it was because of Lilith’s maneuvering, or the echo of Vantasio’s na, or simply Dirga himself, none of them interrupted.
Then ca a single clap.
Then another.
Then the room joined in, unsure why they were applauding — only that it felt safer than not doing so.
Caras clicked.
Flashes sparked.
And the reporters entered.
Within seconds, Dirga’s face was being live-stread to every major network across the country.
The first question ca fast.
"Mr. Dirga," a reporter started, holding a phone and notepad, "We did a background check. Until recently, you were a total unknown. Then you won the lottery, and now... you’re leading one of the most powerful corporate empires in the world. Can you explain that?"
Dirga leaned forward slightly.
"And your question is?"
His tone didn’t change — but the reporter flinched all the sa.
"W-We’re just curious... how did that happen?"
Dirga offered a ghost of a smile.
"The long version would take a book."
He paused.
"Short version: after I won the lottery, I approached Mr. Vantasio for investnt advice. He saw my potential. My ideas. He gave his trust. I gave him results. And eventually... he made his choice."
The room buzzed with quiet awe.
A teenager with nothing had taken the throne.
Another reporter stepped up.
"What’s your next move, Mr. Dirga?"
"There is no next move," Dirga said.
"I’ll run this empire the way it’s always been run — but in my own way."
"And what is your way?"
He t the reporter’s eyes.
"Mine."
He paused, then added,
"Just like Mr. Vantasio had his way."
Lilith stepped forward, signaling one last question.
Then ca an older reporter. Crisp suit, old notebook, cold tone.
"Isn’t it strange?" he asked. "You just t Vantasio. Then you were nad his heir. Then... he died."
The room tensed.
Dirga’s voice didn’t change.
"I’m grateful to Mr. Vantasio. And deeply saddened by his passing. But that’s not a question for ."
He folded his hands.
"That’s a question only he could have answered."
Silence.
Lilith nodded. "That’s all for today."
By nightfall, Dirga’s na was everywhere.
Photos. Videos. "From Nobody to King."
Speculation. Myth. Praise. Fear.
The press fed the story — and Dirga let them.
He had already arranged Naya’s transfer to a private wing of the Vantasio-owned hospital. Jane’s people were now officially employed as her personal security. Everything was falling into place.
That evening, after the parties, the handshakes, and the stares, Dirga returned to the penthouse.
He peeled off the designer suit. Tossed it on the couch.
Changed into sothing more comfortable — black shirt, dark jeans.
He stared at the ceiling.
So many things had happened. And more were coming.
Knock knock.
He froze.
That wasn’t a doorbell.
That was a knock.
Soft. Calm. asured.
Dirga reached beneath the table and retrieved the hidden pistol he’d stashed there.
Slowly, he walked to the door.
He opened it.
And there he was.
Sasa.
Standing in the hallway. Still smiling. Still wearing that crimson suit and the rabbit head. Eyes glowing faint red beneath bone.
"Hello," Sasa said.
Voice like silk wrapped around razors.
"What a marvelous performance, Patron."
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