Vital Fluid

Existence is a beautiful concept. All creatures, living according to the natural law, playing their part in nature. Working together, although it can be a burden, we still do what we can to keep this floating ball spinning. Perhaps if we were to understand that existence itself is a different type of burden for different people— we’d understand our differences. We’d be able to understand each other. Just like the albatross, whose majestic wings allow it to glide through the skies but also tether it to the sea, its vast wingspan becomes a burden in still air, much like the weight of a curse carried by the soul. The albatross, while soaring effortlessly above the waves, knows the weight of the ocean beneath, a reminder that not all who fly are free of burdens. So too, do we carry our invisible burdens, some seen, others hidden, but all part of the journey through existence. I look up to see a pair of striking grey eyes staring at me, cool and unwavering. They were undeniably beautiful, but beauty often masks something far less pleasant. Those eyes belonged to someone who stirred up emotions in me I didn't want to feel. Dislike? No, that wasn’t quite the right word. It was more complex than that—something akin to a love-hate relationship, teetering dangerously between passion and disdain. Every glance, every word exchanged was a battlefield, a tug of war that left me emotionally raw. Around those grey eyes, I was never fully in control. I struggled to maintain my composure, to hold on to the politeness I knew I should have, but it slipped away far too easily when they were involved. They had a way of unraveling me, of making me question everything I thought I knew about myself. My morals, my sense of right and wrong—none of it seemed to matter when those eyes were on me. They drew out the worst parts of me, the reckless, impulsive side I tried so hard to bury. I hated that I could never hold my ground, that they could strip away my defenses with just a look. It was infuriating how easily they made me abandon reason, pushing me to the edge of who I thought I was. There was a kind of intoxication in the way they could make me feel so alive one moment, then hollow the next. A dangerous thrill that left me both craving and dreading our next encounter. Those eyes made me forget myself, and that was the scariest part of all. "Are you done daydreaming, Miss Collins?" That smooth, velvety voice pulled me out of my thoughts, commanding my attention just as it did with everyone in his life. There was an unspoken authority in his tone, the kind that demanded instant obedience. I scrambled upright in my seat, forcing myself to remain composed. "Sir, how can I help you today?" I plastered on a polite smile, reminding myself not to look constipated. Lucian Blackwood rarely made house calls. In fact, it was almost unheard of for him to leave his office to visit our floor. His presence alone sent ripples through the workspace, unsettling everyone like a gust of cold wind. It wasn’t just his physical absence that made his visits so unnerving—it was the chilling, calculated energy he brought with him whenever he appeared. He was the kind of boss who thrived on control. Every detail in his life—every person—was meticulously arranged to fit his agenda. Everyone knew about the ruthless way he made decisions, the way he manipulated the people around him like chess pieces, always three steps ahead of everyone else. Cold, detached, and precise. Lucian didn’t just lead; he dominated. There was no warmth in his leadership, no room for mistakes or weakness. People feared him, and for good reason. When he was in the room, it felt like the temperature dropped, like the very air grew thinner, forcing you to straighten up and watch your every word. Around him, I felt small, like I was constantly being evaluated, judged, and weighed. He had the uncanny ability to strip away any sense of self-assurance with just a look, making you feel exposed, vulnerable, and utterly insignificant. It was that very control, that icy indifference, that both intrigued and repelled me. Lucian Blackwood didn’t just enter a room—he consumed it, leaving no space for anyone else. And now, standing before me, I had to remind myself not to get swallowed up in his presence. "I'll need the file on the Zeus contract," he stated, his grey eyes boring into me with that familiar, unsettling intensity. "Of course," I stammered, scrambling across my desk to find the file. My hands shook slightly, and my face flushed with embarrassment as I felt the weight of my coworkers' eyes on us. Everyone else had probably paused what they were doing, pretending not to watch but undoubtedly paying attention to every moment of our interaction. I finally spotted the file, half-buried beneath a stack of others I'd promised myself I’d get to later. "Here you go, sir." I forced a smile, trying to seem composed despite the heat creeping up my neck. "You could’ve asked me to bring it to you, sir." He didn’t move. Instead, Lucian’s expression darkened ever so slightly, his cold eyes narrowing in that deliberate way of his, reminding me of who was really in control. "Miss Collins," he said smoothly, his voice low and measured, "I own this company. I’ll come and go as I please." His words were like ice, cutting through the air with a calm finality that made my stomach twist. There was no emotion behind them—just the calculated reminder of my place in his world. In his eyes, I was just another piece in his meticulously crafted empire, easily replaceable. My forced smile faltered for a moment, but I quickly recovered, nodding as if I understood, even though the humiliation stung deeper than I cared to admit. "Yes, sir," I replied softly, hoping my voice didn’t betray how small I suddenly felt. Existence was an interesting concept. Every organism, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, had a role to play on this earth. Living, loving... simply existing. Even the tiniest creature contributed something to the larger picture, part of an intricate balance we barely understood. As I sat there, still reeling from the interaction, I glanced around and noticed how everyone quickly averted their gazes, pretending they hadn’t just witnessed it. People were always so eager to look the other way, as though ignoring what happened would make it disappear. But for me, it was impossible to ignore. Moments like these with Mr. Blackwood were all too common. He was always hard on me, scrutinizing my every move with a precision that made me feel like I was under a microscope. It was as if he derived some satisfaction from watching me scramble, testing my limits to see how far I could be pushed before I cracked. Maybe it was his way of reminding me of my place in his carefully constructed world—just another cog in the machine. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the one he singled out, the one he chose to exert his control over more than anyone else. Perhaps it was because I was his personal assistant. Catering to his every whim, his every need. Every interaction with him was a battle to keep my composure, to maintain that façade of professionalism, even when I felt like crumbling. I tried to convince myself that this was just his way of managing things, that he wasn’t deliberately targeting me, but deep down, I wasn’t so sure. There was something about the way he zeroed in on me, like a predator locked onto its prey, that left me constantly on edge. I knew I couldn’t let him see how much it affected me. To show any sign of weakness in front of Lucian Blackwood was dangerous. It gave him power, and power was the one thing he thrived on. So I forced myself to sit up straighter, to pretend like that encounter hadn’t rattled me, even though I could still feel the weight of his gaze lingering like a shadow.