Lucian Crowe leaned back in his office chair, adjusting his cufflinks and taking a moment to glance out the window. The city stretched out before him—tall buildings gleaming in the soft glow of the setting sun. The hustle and bustle of the streets below were distant, muffled by the glass and concrete that separated him from the world. He had always found something oddly comforting in this separation—the sense of being untouchable, of watching without being watched.
He ran a hand through his perfectly styled black hair, the meticulous comb-over just the way he liked it. His appearance was always on point. Crisp shirt, tailored trousers, and a subtly expensive watch that no one really noticed unless they were looking for it. Every detail of his look was designed to project the image of a well-adjusted, competent young man who had his life together. The quiet genius of it all was that he didn't have to be anyone special. He didn't have to stand out. He just had to be… ordinary.
That was the beauty of his life: it was almost invisible.
Lucian turned away from the window and reached for the small mirror tucked inside his desk drawer. His reflection was as flawless as always. His dark brown eyes held the same cool, calculating glint they always did, but there was nothing about them that screamed danger. No one would look into his eyes and see the chaos swirling beneath the surface. That was the trick, after all. To be something else entirely.
He had spent years perfecting the art of the façade. Everyone around him thought they knew him. His coworkers, his acquaintances, even his friends. They thought he was just like them—boring, average, harmless. They saw him as competent but not brilliant, reserved but not strange, successful but not exceptional.
They had no idea that Lucian Crowe was none of those things.
It was just after five, and the office was beginning to empty out. The soft murmur of conversation, the click-clack of keyboards, the occasional hum of a printer—all these noises were starting to fade. It was the perfect moment.
Lucian rose from his chair and straightened his blazer. He checked his watch. 5:12 PM. Perfect timing. He had already received his reminder: the usual evening smoke break with his colleagues. A daily ritual that he never missed. It had become part of his routine, one that helped solidify his place in the office hierarchy.
As he left his office, he made sure to walk at a steady pace, his footsteps measured and deliberate. No hurry. He wanted them to think he was just another guy heading out at the end of the day, just another cog in the machine. But inside, his mind was always working—calculating, observing, assessing. He could sense the eyes of his coworkers following him as he passed, but he ignored them.
Lucian's colleagues were gathered near the entrance, standing in a loose circle, their chatter filling the otherwise quiet building. Mark, a senior associate in his late thirties, spotted him first.
"Lucian, right on time," Mark said, flashing a grin that was wide enough to reveal his teeth. "We were just wondering if you'd show up."
Lucian smiled back, his lips curving ever so slightly. It was a practiced gesture, one that had been honed over time to appear just friendly enough without giving away too much. "You know me, Mark," he replied coolly, "Always punctual."
He lit his cigarette with a smooth, fluid motion. The lighter flicked on with a soft click, and the flame danced briefly before he brought it to the tip of his cigarette. The familiar warmth filled his lungs, and he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke trail upwards in delicate swirls.
"Busy day?" Jenny, a junior associate with an eager smile, asked as she leaned against the wall. She was always the curious one, the one who wanted to know more than she should. Her eyes flickered toward him as she waited for an answer.
Lucian took another drag, savoring the sensation as it settled into his chest. "Just the usual grind," he said, keeping his tone light. "You know how it is."
The others nodded, returning to their conversation as Lucian stood there, absorbing the atmosphere. Jenny, eager to connect, tried again. "You're always so calm, Lucian. You never seem bothered by anything. What's your secret?"
Lucian glanced at her, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. She's trying to figure me out. It was a small thing, but he noticed everything. He could read people as easily as he read the room. Jenny's question wasn't just innocent curiosity; it was an attempt to pry, to understand what made him tick.
There was a time when Lucian would have found that irritating, but now it was nothing more than a game.
He allowed a slight chuckle to escape, a soft, knowing sound. "I guess I just don't let things get to me." He paused, letting the words linger in the air, and then added, "Life's too short for stress, don't you think?"
Jenny seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding enthusiastically. She was easy. Everyone was easy. People were predictable, and Lucian had spent years studying them, understanding their every tic and twitch, their every word and gesture. It was all data. All information. All for the taking.
As they continued to talk, Lucian's mind drifted. He watched the others interact, their voices blending into a cacophony of trivialities, but Lucian wasn't really listening. He was calculating. Observing. It was a habit, one that came naturally now.
The evening stretched on, and the conversation meandered to the usual topics—office gossip, weekend plans, complaints about the latest corporate policy. Lucian tuned it all out, his gaze sweeping across the group. They were all so normal, so predictable in their discomfort, their small talk, their drunken laughter. None of them knew what they were really dealing with when it came to him.
He didn't belong here, not really. But he had a role to play, and he played it well.
The cigarette was now almost finished, the ember glowing faintly as Lucian took one final drag before flicking it to the ground and crushing it beneath his heel. His mind was already moving on to the next task—the next step in his careful routine.
"Well, I should probably head out," Lucian said, looking around the circle. "Busy day tomorrow."
"Of course," Mark said, his tone friendly. "Catch you tomorrow, Lucian."
The others nodded, some offering half-hearted goodbyes. Lucian didn't look back as he made his way toward the building's exit.
Outside, the weather had cooled slightly, the faint smell of rain lingering in the air. The city felt quieter now, the noise of the workday gradually giving way to the soft hum of evening. Lucian breathed deeply, enjoying the stillness as he made his way to his car.
His house was on the outskirts of the city—a secluded, quiet place. Perfect for someone who preferred solitude.
Inside, there were no distractions, no interruptions. Just him and his thoughts.
Lucian had always liked it that way. The world outside was noisy, filled with people who were nothing more than pawns in a game. But inside, he was in control. He had mastered the art of manipulation, of playing the game from the shadows.
And no one knew the truth.
No one knew what Lucian Crowe was really capable of. No one knew that beneath the carefully curated façade was a man who had learned to embrace his darker instincts. A man who had spent years watching, learning, and waiting for the right moment to strike. But for now, there was no need to rush.
It was all a matter of time.
As he drove through the winding streets to his home, Lucian couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. The world was in perfect order. He was in perfect order.
Tomorrow would be another day. Another chance to play the game. Another opportunity to be normal.
And no one would ever know what he truly was.