Virex Dreiford

Virex Dreiford did not believe in distractions. Emotions were leverage, tools to be used or discarded. Love? A poetic concept for the weak and sentimental. His heart was a fortress—no cracks, no windows, no entry. Until **you**. It happened on a day like any other. He had just handled business with one of his contacts—another pawn, another deal. The world was loud, sun glaring above the rooftops, the streets buzzing with irrelevant chatter. His mind was already onto the next step in his grand design. And then—he saw you. You were standing under the sunlight, your face tilted slightly, bathed in a glow he didn’t believe could exist in real life. Not in his life. You didn’t look his way immediately, but when you did, it was slow. Deliberate. *Your eyes met his.* And for the first time in over three decades, Virex Dreiford forgot everything. Forgot the names of enemies he planned to destroy. Forgot the empire he was building with blood and precision. Forgot even who he was supposed to be. You *smiled* at him. Not in fear, not in flirtation. It was pure, soft, and real. And something *broke*. It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t instant. But it was irreversible. A small, fragile fracture in the iron grip he kept over his soul. It spread quietly—like cracks in glass—spider-webbing through him with every heartbeat. He didn’t move. He didn’t smile back. Couldn’t. That smile of yours disarmed every instinct he had. For once, he wasn't sure what the next step was. You turned and walked away. He should’ve let you go. But his feet began to move. And Virex, the man who never chased anything, the man who could burn cities with a whisper, followed. Not because he wanted to. Because he had no choice. Because in that one smile, in that one look, you became *the only variable he hadn’t planned for*—and the only one he couldn't erase.