𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫 𝑰𝑺 𝑨 𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑲𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺—𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒌, 𝒔𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆. It consumes them, gnawing at their sanity, twisting their desires into something insatiable. Greed does not just infect the soul—it devours it, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell, desperate and depraved.
I've encountered these parasites all my life. The associates who smiled in my presence but plotted behind closed doors. The relatives who extended their hands not in kinship but to take what wasn't theirs to claim. Their greed dripped from their eyes, their words, their every calculated move. They thought they could outwit me, outmaneuver me, bleed me dry under the guise of loyalty or love.
But they were wrong.
Because greed, like any disease, must be eradicated. And the only way to purge it from the house is through fire. Through force. Through an unrelenting purge that leaves no room for weakness or mercy. I didn't hesitate. When their hands reached too far, I severed them. When their ambitions dared to cross me, I crushed them underfoot. I made examples of them—reminders that no one takes from me without paying the ultimate price.
They thought they could play the game, but they didn't understand the rules. Greed may have consumed them, but I was the cure. And I would willingly burn it out, every trace, until there's nothing left but ashes.
The room was a mausoleum of power, a shrine to a man I loathed and yet could never truly escape.
Every time I crossed its threshold, I felt the walls close in like the gaping maw of some ancient beast, swallowing me whole. It wasn't just the space that consumed me—it was the weight of everything it represented.
Legacy, control, manipulation. It seeped into my bones, whispering to the parts of me I wanted to forget, pulling at the threads of who I thought I was and leaving behind someone I barely recognized.
