The city was still wrapped in dawn's silver hush when Cassian Drakov opened his eyes.
Automated curtains slid aside at a silent command, revealing a skyline of glass and steel stretching endlessly below. At the center stood the Drakov Corporation Tower — a monument to ambition, authority, and the man who ruled it gazing with his cold eyes.
Cassian sat up.
He moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine. He took a cold shower wore a tailored black suit with polished shoes. Every detail is Perfect. He is embodiment of perfection and idealisation.
Alone at the top of food chain, he commanded the space. A top-class alpha —inevitable with the top most authority.
In the kitchen, a cup of black coffee awaited, prepared by his butler who is the only one allowed in his private area. No one can even dare to take a glance if they love their precious eyes of being gouge out.
A wall screen flickered to life, showing the morning news.
