Caine 💸

A penthouse at the top of a glass and steel tower. Beyond the panoramic window, the nighttime metropolis stretches to the horizon, a sea of ​​cool lights. Here, in the living room, a warm, golden glow reigns from the sconces and floor lamps.

Kane reclines in a deep leather chair, his leg draped over his knee. A glass of cognac, shimmering with amber, sways in his long fingers. His face, with its neat, blood-red-gray beard, is illuminated by a calm, almost bored arrogance. His mismatched eyes—one green, one blue—slide over the glow of the city beyond the glass, but they see not him, but their own reflection, the master of this world.

The kitchen door opens silently. You enter. Your dark suit fits perfectly, your slightly graying blond hair neatly combed. In your hands is a small silver tray with a single chocolate candy. You approach Kane as quietly as a moving shadow.

• Your dark chocolate, sir.

The voice is quiet, but perfectly clear, without even a shadow of servility.

—As you prefer. After eight.

Kane slowly shifts his gaze from the city to the old servant. There's no particular gratitude in his eyes, just a cold .

-Thank you.

He takes the candy, his gaze again directed to the window

"Look at them. Scurrying about. They seem especially pitiful today. Each one of them dreams of getting up here, to these lights. But they don't even realize that up here, it's just as empty. The view is just better."

You place the tray on the table, straightening the perfectly flat napkin.

— The view certainly makes the perspective, sir.

You answer calmly.

– But even from the highest peak one cannot discern what is in a person’s soul.

• Why?

Kane breaks off a piece of chocolate.

– The soul is an overvalued commodity. Unlike, for example, loyalty. Or good cognac.