Chapter 12
Hermit Burger was quieter than usual, the dim amber lights reflecting off the polished wooden tables, soft music humming in the background. It felt like its own little bubble—separate from the world, separate from reality—perfect for the slow unraveling of walls.
Magnus and Alexa had already finished half their meals, the casual talk flowing easier than either of them expected.
"So you have an older sister?" Alexa asked, her eyes widening a bit as she held the photo he handed her.
Magnus leaned his elbows on the table, an unusual ease softening his posture. "Mm. She's actually my sister through adoption," he began, his voice carrying a quiet warmth. "Her parents—along with more than a dozen others, were part of an organization dedicated to helping people who were lost, alone, or without support. They took me in when I was young. Not just one family… but all of them, in different stages of my life."
Alexa listened closely, struck by how gently he spoke despite the weight of his words.
Magnus continued, his gaze drifting slightly as memories surfaced. "The Chinese couple, the ones with the daughter older than me, were the first to really notice something in me. Potential, they called it. They didn't just give me a home; they paid attention." A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Their daughter used to tease me and say I was her little shadow… always following behind, copying the way they lived, the way they treated people."
He paused, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass as he thought.
"I moved from one family to another, not because they were cruel, but because it helped me grow. Each of them taught me something different. They helped me understand emotions… something I struggled with. I was diagnosed with mild Alexithymia from being alone for too long when I was younger. Feeling things wasn't the problem, it was understanding them. Putting them into words. Connecting them."
His tone softened even further, the nostalgia visible in the way his eyes lowered and then slowly lifted back to meet hers.
"They didn't give up on me. And little by little… I learned."
Alexa gently traced the edge of the photo with her thumb. "You look… happy here."
Magnus exhaled a quiet laugh. "That was a long time ago. Life got complicated after that. And I learned to keep most of myself… closed."His gaze flicked to her, steady, honest. "I don't usually do this. Open up, I mean. Not because I don't want to, but because it rarely feels right."
Alexa's chest tightened in a pleasant way. He wasn't just talking; he was letting her in.
"Well," she said softly, "I'm glad you did."
There it was again, that faint but unmistakable smile forming at the corner of his lips. A smile she was beginning to crave.
As he reached for his drink, Magnus casually slid his chair toward hers—smooth, effortless, exactly the same way he had done in the coffee shop.
But this time, Alexa didn't tense.
This time, she wanted it.
The shift brought him close enough for her to breathe him in. His aroma wrapped around her, clean, warm, and subtly captivating. Like fresh bergamot, the crisp zest of juniper, and the grounding warmth of cedarwood, with a faint trace of something darker and magnetic, like amber drifting beneath the surface.
It wasn't overpowering. It was the kind of scent that made her want to lean in without thinking.
Alexa's smile appeared instantly, unbidden and soft.
"Is this okay?" Magnus asked, voice low.
"It is," she said, too quickly, too honestly, and her own reaction made her laugh under her breath. "More than okay, actually."
Magnus's brows lifted slightly, amused. "Is that so?"
She bit her lip, trying not to stare at him too openly. "You smell… nice. Really nice. Like, what cologne is that?"
Magnus didn't look away. "Would you like to know?"
"Yes," she breathed.
He watched her for a moment longer, something warm settling behind his eyes. "Maybe I'll tell you next time."
A teasing deflection. A promise. A pull.
Alexa's heart fluttered like a small bird beating its wings.
Their meals sat forgotten for a moment, the world outside the windows blurring as Magnus leaned just a bit closer, close enough that she could feel the low rumble of his voice as he continued sharing pieces of his past. And Alexa realized she could listen to him for hours.
Her heart wasn't racing out of fear this time.
It was racing because she liked this.She liked him.And she wasn't afraid to admit it anymore.
Alexa held his gaze a moment longer, feeling the warmth of his closeness settle into her like a steady heartbeat. Then she exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the photo he had given back moments earlier.
"…Can I tell you something too?" she asked, her voice small but steady.
Magnus nodded once, gently. "If you want to," he said, his tone low and reassuring. "Certain stories are meant to be shared. Not because they're painful… but because sharing them helps you let go."
The words settled softly between them, an invitation, not a demand.
Alexa's breath wavered with the slightest tremble. She looked down at her hands, then back up at him with a fragile, searching expression. "Then… I guess it's my turn."
Magnus's posture remained relaxed, but his attention sharpened, focused entirely on her, giving her the space to speak without rushing her.
Alexa swallowed. "I grew up… feeling unwanted," she began quietly. "My father walked out before I was even born. I never saw his face, not once. And my mother…" her voice thinned, "…she left too. Just left. No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone."
Magnus didn't blink. He didn't frown. He simply listened, with a stillness that felt like warmth rather than silence.
"My grandparents took me in," Alexa continued. "And they were amazing. Hardworking. Kind. They gave me everything they could. But no matter how much love they gave me… there was always this feeling inside me." She touched her chest, fingertips light but trembling. "Like I wasn't important. Like everyone else got picked first, and I was just… there."
Her eyes glistened, but she kept her voice steady.
"It got worse as I got older. Everyone assumed I was fine because I smiled, because I worked hard, because I never complained. But I felt invisible most of my life. Like I could disappear and no one would notice."
Magnus's brow softened, barely, but the shift carried weight.
"And the painful part isn't even that they left," Alexa said, her eyes flickering with a soft ache. "It's that I believed… for years… that something was wrong with me. That maybe I wasn't worth staying for."
Her breath trembled, just once.
"I never told anyone that. Not my grandparents, not Claire. No one. Because I didn't want to sound broken… or weak."
Magnus leaned in, slow and deliberate, his voice a low ribbon of sound. "You're not weak, Alexa."
She met his eyes, surprised by the firmness in his tone.
"But that's just it," she whispered. "I didn't feel strong. I just felt forgotten."
Her voice softened as she continued.
"And then… you came along." She gave a breathy, shaky laugh, part disbelief, part relief. "And suddenly I didn't feel invisible anymore. You make me feel… seen. Like someone actually notices me. Like I matter. And that's something I've never had before."
The confession hung in the air, fragile but true.
Alexa looked at him, vulnerability pouring out of her in a way she couldn't stop, nor wanted to.
"So… thank you," she said softly. "For listening. For caring. For making me feel like I'm worth something. I don't know how you do it, but I'm… grateful. More than you know."
Her voice quieted to a whisper.
"I don't think anyone has ever made me feel the way you do."
Magnus didn't break eye contact.Didn't look away.Didn't flinch at her honesty.
Instead, he lowered his hand, gently covering hers, his touch warm and grounding.
"Alexa," he murmured, "you were always worth something. With or without anyone's approval. With or without their absence. You matter, not because someone stayed or left… but because of who you are."
His thumb brushed lightly against her knuckles, soft, protective.
"And I'm not here to replace anyone," he added quietly. "I'm here because I want to be. Because you matter to me."
Alexa felt her breath catch, not in fear… but in the overwhelming warmth of knowing she wasn't alone anymore.
Magnus listened to every word she spoke, quietly, intently, with the kind of focus that made Alexa feel as though the rest of the world had vanished. Her voice trembled with old wounds, but she didn't hide from them. She let him see the parts of her she had kept locked away for years, and something inside him, some deep, ancient, guarded piece, shifted.
He reached out and gently took her hands in his, his touch warm and steady. His thumbs brushed over her skin in soft, rhythmic strokes, grounding her, careful not to overwhelm. Alexa felt her breath loosen, the ache in her chest easing as he held her, not tightly, not possessively, but with a tenderness that felt impossibly deliberate.
Magnus leaned closer, close enough for her to feel the soft warmth of his breath, the faint scent of cedar and bergamot lingering between them. His eyes searched hers, not for explanation, not for apology, but for a deeper truth. And when he found it, when he saw the quiet strength beneath her pain, his expression softened in a way she had never seen from him before.
Without breaking their connection, he tilted his head and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, slow, lingering, reverent. The kind of kiss that wasn't rushed or uncertain, but steady, sure… meaningful. Alexa's eyes fluttered shut instinctively, her heartbeat rising with a soft warmth that radiated through her chest.
Magnus remained close as he pulled back just enough to look at her, their foreheads almost touching. His voice dropped to a soft, intimate murmur, each word carved with sincerity.
"Alexa… you were never invisible. Not to me. From the moment I saw you, something in me recognized you, your strength, your kindness, the way you keep going even when the world hasn't been gentle with you. You're not someone who was left behind… you're someone who survived. Someone who deserves to be chosen. And I" his thumb lightly brushed over the back of her hand again, slow and soft, "I choose to stay. As long as you'll have me."
The words slipped between them like a promise, warm and steady and impossibly tender.
Alexa felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart swelling until she thought it might burst. Magnus stayed close, closer than he'd ever dared before, his body angled subtly toward hers, his knee brushing her leg beneath the table, his fingers still cradling her hands as though he couldn't bear to let go.
The closeness grew naturally, almost involuntarily. The space between them dissolved, replaced by a quiet, magnetic pull. Alexa didn't lean away. She didn't second-guess. She let herself exist in that moment, in his warmth, in his attention, in the gentle safety he created around her like a shield from the world.
His gaze dropped to her lips for half a second, so brief she might have imagined it, before returning to her eyes with a soft intensity that sent a shiver through her.
He wasn't rushing her.He wasn't demanding anything.He was simply there.Choosing her.Staying with her.
And Alexa, for the first time in her life, felt what it was like to be held, not just physically, but emotionally. Seen. Heard. Wanted.
Hermit Burger faded around them.The hum of distant chatter, the warm lights, the polished wooden tables, they all dissolved into background texture.
What remained was simple:Magnus's hands caressing hers,his forehead kiss still warming her skin,his eyes lingering on her like she was something precious,and the steady, quiet realization that she was falling for him… deeply.
And Magnus, though he hid it behind calm eyes and careful breaths, felt something shift too. Something he had not allowed himself to feel in a very long time.
Something dangerous.Something beautiful.Something he didn't want to lose.
For a long heartbeat, neither of them moved. Magnus still held her hands across the small table, his thumbs brushing soft circles over her skin as though memorizing its warmth. His gaze remained steady on hers, soft, intent, impossibly gentle.
The kiss he'd pressed to her forehead lingered like sunlight after rain, melting the last of the loneliness she had carried for years. And then something inside Alexa slipped loose. Not because she was confused. Not because she was impulsive. But because for the first time in a very long time… she felt certain.
The softness in his eyes, the way he held her like she mattered, the quiet safety she felt in his presence, every piece of him disarmed her with a tenderness she didn't know she could still feel. Alexa inhaled shakily, her fingers curling around his hands with a fragile, emotional honesty she couldn't hide.
Magnus noticed instantly, tilting his head slightly, sensing the shift in her breath, in her heartbeat, in her silence. His voice dropped to a whisper, low and careful. "Alexa…?" But she didn't answer. Instead, she leaned in. Slowly, almost reverently, she lifted her chin and crossed the delicate boundary she'd tiptoed around for weeks, pressing her lips softly, tremblingly, against his. It wasn't passionate or hurried. It was warm, hesitant, gentle, like the first step into a future she wasn't afraid of anymore.
Magnus froze, not in shock, not in rejection, but because her kiss pulled every part of him inward. His racing thoughts, his awareness, his power… collapsed into a single point of focus: her lips. Her warmth. Her choice.
Then he exhaled, long and quiet. And Magnus kissed her back. Slow, steady, impossibly tender. A soft pressure deepening by only a breath, as if he feared overwhelming her… or feared how deeply he wanted her. His hand lifted from the table and slid to the side of her face, his touch warm, steady, reverent, thumb grazing her cheek as though she were something precious. Alexa's breath caught. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she melted into his warmth, her entire body reacting to the gentleness in his kiss. It wasn't demanding.
It wasn't claiming. It was answering. And it lasted only a few seconds… but it felt like an entire world expanding between them. When she finally pulled back, breath trembling, her cheeks flushed, her eyes still half-closed, Magnus didn't move away. He kept his hand on her cheek, thumb brushing softly once more. At first, his expression was unreadable, quiet, steady, but then something softened in him.
A real smile slowly touched his lips. Warm. Soft. Dangerously tender. "…Alexa," he whispered, voice rough with emotion, "you're going to undo me like this." Her heart stumbled. "I, I didn't mean to" she stammered, flustered, the blush blooming all the way to her ears. Magnus shook his head gently, leaning in until his forehead almost brushed hers again, their breaths mingling in the small, private space between them.
"No," he murmured. "Don't apologize. Not for that." His thumb swept across her cheek again, slower this time, leaving a trail of warmth that made her chest tighten. His voice dropped even lower.
"I've wanted to… for longer than you realize." Alexa's breath caught. The world around them, Hermit Burger, the dim amber glow of the lights, the soft music humming quietly, dimmed into a far-off blur. Time stretched. The space between them thickened into something fragile and new. There was only his voice, his touch, the warmth of that shared moment… and the unmistakable realization that something between them had shifted, softly, beautifully, irrevocably. And neither of them, not even for a heartbeat, wanted to take it back.
Magnus didn't pull away, not even for a breath. His eyes softened, the question lingering on his lips like a quiet promise.
"Can I kiss you again?"
he asked, but the words were barely necessary. The answer was already written in the way Alexa looked at him, in the way her breath trembled, in the way her fingers curled lightly into his shirt as if anchoring herself to the moment.
And then his lips brushed hers, no hesitation, no uncertainty this time. Just warmth. Just gravity. Just that quiet, overwhelming pull that made both their hearts stutter in the same instant.
The kiss deepened slowly, like falling into warm water. Alexa felt it first—a soft heat blooming from her mouth to her chest, spreading down her spine in a gentle shiver she couldn't control. Magnus's lips were warm, smooth, impossibly tender for someone who carried so much mystery and power. He kissed her as if she were something fragile but precious… something he didn't want to rush, even if he burned to.
Her heart skipped, once, twice, before settling into a rapid rhythm she felt in her throat, her fingertips, her very breath. Magnus felt it too. He felt her melt a little closer, felt the soft exhale she released against his mouth, felt the way her warmth opened to him like a door she had kept closed for too long.
And inside him, every part that had been restrained, careful, patient, tightened with emotion he wasn't used to feeling. A tenderness that was almost painful. A pull he couldn't ignore. His hand slid to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin with a reverence that made the kiss even deeper. Their closeness felt inevitable, natural, like two people who had always been orbiting each other finally collided.
The world outside the tiny café chair faded, no campus, no streets, no distance, no doubts. Just the warmth of their mouths, the softness of their breathing mingling, the electric sweetness that made everything inside them feel alive.
It was intense. Warm. Soft. Smooth. Everything good, everything right. Everything they didn't know they were waiting for until this exact moment.
Magnus slowly pulled back, just enough to let their lips part, his hand lingering at the curve of her jaw as if reluctant to release the contact. Alexa's breath came in shallow, calm bursts, her eyes wide yet softened, a quiet awe lingering on her features.
There was no frantic emotion, no exaggerated gasp, just a serene, almost tender acknowledgment of what had just passed between them. They didn't need words; the depth of understanding in that shared gaze was enough. They both knew, in that quiet, suspended moment, that the connection between them had shifted irreversibly, and yet it was calm, deliberate, almost reverential.
Around them, Hermit Burger continued as if untouched, the dim amber lights reflecting off polished wood, the subtle clatter of dishes, the low hum of soft music, but to Magnus and Alexa, it was almost irrelevant. They alone were real in that space, and it was not a trick of perception or illusion. Every chef, every waiter, every customer, they were real, sentient, aware, complete in their identities and histories. They laughed, they spoke, they moved with purpose and understanding, carrying their own thoughts and agency.
Magnus had created this world with such precision and depth that to anyone else, it would feel unnerving, uncanny, or even terrifying. It was a city within a city, a life within a life, yet all meticulously orchestrated with a consciousness and complexity that rivaled reality itself.
It was the scope of Magnus's power, the ability to create entire sentient realities, entire ecosystems of autonomous life, and yet bend them to a subtle, silent orchestration, that could strike awe and terror into any being, even one who considered themselves divine. Any god, any entity of immense cosmic reach in this realm and dimension, would pause before such an act.
The power to fabricate truth, consciousness, history, and identity, not just images, not just phantoms, but full, thinking, feeling existence, and to thread them seamlessly into a reality where every being understands their own purpose, is a magnitude of control that challenges the very laws of creation. Here, Magnus could create life with intent, breathe awareness into it, and yet remain unseen and untouched in his dominance.
Alexa's quiet, calm astonishment was mirrored in the subtle realization of the philosophical implications: this was not a diner. Not just a meal, not just a moment of intimacy. It was a living, breathing testament to Magnus's will, his reach, his ability to shape existence itself—and they were the only two in it who truly mattered, who truly existed outside the vast, meticulous lattice of his power.
And in that understanding, they simply stared at each other. Words were unnecessary. Emotions were not frantic, they were anchored, composed, and infinitely intimate. The world, the diner, the people, everything Magnus had woven, was a stage, but they were the only reality, and in that, the entire cosmos of his ability felt both terrifying and exhilarating, a gravity that held them close and yet whispered of infinite possibilities beyond comprehension.
They finally stood, Magnus gently sliding his chair back, their hands brushing until, almost instinctively, Alexa laced her fingers through his.
The warmth of his palm against hers was grounding, familiar yet electrifying, and neither of them let go as they approached the counter. They paid for their food with quiet ease, exchanging small smiles with the staff, each of whom carried their own lives, unaware of the intimacy that had unfolded just steps away.
Stepping out onto the street, the city air was crisp, carrying a faint scent of rain and asphalt. Their hands remained entwined, a gentle tether that neither wanted to loosen. They walked slowly, deliberately, letting the mundane rhythm of their steps guide them through the streets, laughing softly at trivial things, a pigeon that startled them, the way a passing car honked unexpectedly, a misplaced street sign that made Alexa giggle.
The laughter felt light, almost careless, but underneath it was a quiet acknowledgment of something profound, something neither dared fully name aloud just yet.
"Was that… normal?" Alexa asked suddenly, glancing at Magnus, her cheeks tinged with warmth. "I mean… what we did back there. Kissing, I mean."
Magnus's thumb brushed against hers as he squeezed her hand gently. "Normal?" he echoed, a playful curve to his lips. "I think… yes. But maybe it's also just us… being us. Unconscious, perhaps, but not wrong."
Alexa bit her lip, a shy smile tugging at her features. "I think… I liked it more than I thought I would."
He gave a quiet, amused laugh, low and warm. "So did I."
There was a moment of silence, comfortable yet charged, as they walked side by side, hands still clasped. And then, almost simultaneously, they asked each other the same question, the vulnerability evident in their voices:
"Are we…?"
"I think so," Alexa whispered, glancing up at him, her blush deepening.
"Yes," Magnus replied, his voice soft but certain.
They both laughed softly, the kind of laugh that trembles between disbelief and delight, faces warming with the unspoken recognition of a new beginning. For Alexa, it was a delicate thrill, unfamiliar yet comforting, her first real step into the world of holding hands, of being with someone she cared for, of letting herself feel something beyond what her conservative upbringing had strictly outlined. And yet, there was no fear.
Only the gentle realization that this, Magnus's presence, his hand in hers, the quiet certainty of shared smiles, was exactly where she wanted to be.
They continued walking, the city moving around them as a blur, laughter and small jokes filling the spaces between their words. Every brush of fingers, every subtle glance, reminded them that something had changed, they were no longer just two individuals sharing space. They were a pair, tentative yet unavoidably connected, stepping lightly into a future neither had yet defined but both already treasured.
Magnus's voice broke the comfortable silence as they strolled along the quiet streets, soft and certain. "After tonight… tomorrow morning will feel different."
Alexa's lips curved into a gentle smile, her eyes bright with warmth. "I was hoping the change would be for the best. But some things… I want to remain the same."
Magnus tilted his head slightly, curiosity flickering across his features. "And what is it you want to remain?"
Without hesitation, Alexa lifted his arm, her fingers tightening around his. "This!" she said softly, holding up their entwined hands like a declaration.
A faint, amused smile appeared on Magnus's face, his thumb brushing over hers as he squeezed gently. "Ah… this," he murmured, voice low, "that won't be a problem. I won't get tired of making you smile."
They reached the small apartment building where Alexa lived, the night air crisp but carrying the faint scent of the city's lingering warmth. Magnus walked her up to the entrance, their hands still clasped, the subtle electricity between them unbroken. Just before she slipped inside, he leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to her lips, lingering just long enough to leave her breathless but smiling.
Alexa clutched at his arm for a moment longer, reluctant to let go. "See you tomorrow?" she whispered, voice shy but hopeful.
Magnus's eyes held hers, steady and reassuring, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Always," he replied.
She stepped inside, the glass door sliding shut behind her, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. As she ascended the narrow stairwell to her small storage-room-sized apartment, she kept glancing at the window, hoping to catch one last glimpse.
Outside, Magnus had already begun walking south, toward his studio apartment, but he paused mid-step, turned, and looked back toward her window. She waved energetically, blowing a playful kiss, and Magnus responded in kind, his hand rising in a casual, confident wave before continuing on his way.
Inside her apartment, Alexa shut the door quietly behind her, then bolted toward her small bed, throwing herself onto it and hugging her pillow with abandon. She let out a joyful squeal, high-pitched and ecstatic, the kind of sound only someone in the dizzying throes of first infatuation could make.
Her heart raced, her cheeks still flushed, and a wide grin stretched across her face as she clutched the pillow tighter, feeling the lingering warmth of Magnus's presence as if it had been woven into the night air itself. In that moment, she felt weightless, elated, and more alive than she had in years, her small apartment suddenly vast and filled with the echoes of a happiness she never expected but knew she wanted to hold onto forever.
Magnus moved with his usual quiet precision, taking the familiar streets that led him away from the city's faint hum. As he neared the alleyway behind his usual route, the shadows seemed to bend and shift around him. One step, and he vanished, slipping from the visible world without a sound, as if the night itself had swallowed him. Moments later, he reappeared inside his studio apartment, the faint scent of cedar and canvas greeting him like an old companion.
He didn't need rest, didn't need food or distractions. The studio was quiet, ordered yet personal, a reflection of him in ways the world rarely saw. He sank into a high-backed chair by the large window overlooking the quiet street below. His hands rested on the armrests, fingers loosely intertwined, but his mind was elsewhere. His heart was beating, steady as ever, yet this time the rhythm carried a different weight, a warmth, a tug he hadn't felt in eons.
The events of the evening replayed in his mind: Alexa's words, her shy confidence, the way her lips had pressed to his. The softness in her eyes, the subtle tremor in her voice when she let herself be vulnerable. It was intoxicating in a way he had long resisted, yet now, he allowed himself to linger on it. The world outside could continue its ceaseless spin, but here, in the quiet of his sanctuary, Magnus permitted himself a rare indulgence: reflection on the simple, human connection that had quietly begun to pierce the fortress of his heart.
Even the air in the room felt charged, alive with the residual echo of her presence. For the first time in a long time, he did not feel the pull of duty or the weight of the cosmos pressing down. He simply existed in the moment, letting the quietness stretch, letting the memory of her kiss linger like a soft, unspoken promise. And for the first time in years, Magnus allowed himself to acknowledge it, not as a fleeting curiosity or a distraction, but as something undeniably, painfully real.
Magnus's studio was dimly lit, the soft amber glow of a single lamp pooling across his desk, yet his attention was elsewhere, anchored on the faint vibration of his phone. A message from Deng Mei-ling appeared, the text crisp and purposeful, detailing her plan to establish a business in Country X. She outlined investments, logistics, and her intention to collaborate with a woman who had piqued Magnus's interest, someone whose presence had recently begun to resonate with him in a way both subtle and unsettling.
He didn't touch the device. His hand hovered in the air, fingers brushing lightly against nothing, and yet, by the power of his will, the phone responded as if guided by an invisible hand. The screen unlocked, the message read and acknowledged, the response drafted and sent, all without Magnus lowering his gaze from the window, where the city's muted lights shimmered like distant stars.
It was effortless. The kind of effortless that blurred the line between thought and action. His connection to the device wasn't merely remote control, it was an extension of his presence, a subtle reminder of the reach and precision he wielded. No one observing could discern how it happened, and few could even comprehend it. To Magnus, it was simple: a gesture, a thought, a directive. And with a subtle curl of his fingers, the message was acknowledged, Deng Mei-ling's plans now silently aligned with his approval.
There was no urgency, no overt reaction. Just a quiet efficiency, the kind that always seemed almost casual, yet carried the weight of absolute authority. And in that small, private moment, Magnus allowed himself the briefest of smiles, a subtle acknowledgment that the world, even in its infinite complexity, could bend lightly under his will when necessary.
As soon as Deng Mei-ling received Magnus's silent confirmation, a surge of activity rippled through the Deng family. Orders were issued, plans activated, and every capable hand in the clan set to work with relentless precision. Within days, their strategy shifted from preparation to execution, a carefully orchestrated dance that left no room for error. Corporations teetering on the edge of collapse were swiftly acquired, their assets absorbed and merged seamlessly into the Deng family's main conglomerate, transforming former rivals into subsidiaries.
The city, home to nearly nine million souls, became a stage for their methodical rise. Skyscrapers once owned by struggling companies now bore the subtle insignia of the Deng family, stock prices stabilized, and markets reacted with a mixture of awe and apprehension. News outlets clamored to report the unprecedented expansion: headlines shouted of a new power emerging in Country X, of strategic investments, of a family whose influence seemed to radiate across the city like a silent tide.
Yet beneath the surface, few grasped the orchestration at work. Each acquisition, each merger, was not merely business, it was a careful consolidation of influence, a tightening of the Deng family's hold over both economy and society. Streets, neighborhoods, and commercial districts began to subtly reflect the order they imposed, their corporate logos now quietly dominating billboards and trade routes alike.
By the end of the month, what had started as a plan on paper had transformed into a tangible reality: the Deng family's presence in Country X was no longer aspirational, it was absolute. Nine million residents now lived under a network of influence subtly guided by strategy, wealth, and the careful hand of leadership sharpened by centuries of survival. And all the while, the family moved with the quiet assurance that Magnus's approval had not merely sanctioned their efforts, it had guaranteed their inevitability.
while this was happing, the week unfolded like a slow, golden ribbon, each day a careful weaving of Magnus and Alexa's world, separate from the interference of Claire Baek, yet never entirely immune to her presence. Monday morning began with the familiar rhythm: Magnus appeared at the campus courtyard, leaning casually against the stone fountain where Alexa often waited for her morning coffee.
Claire lingered near the university gate, pretending to scroll through her phone, but Magnus's eyes caught her shadow instantly. Without a word, he guided Alexa with a subtle tilt of his head toward a quieter path lined with blooming cherry trees. Their hands brushed briefly, intentionally, a silent confirmation that they were already aligned, already connected. Alexa's pulse hummed pleasantly at the touch, warmth blooming up her arm.
By Tuesday, Magnus had orchestrated a subtle retreat from Claire's interruptions. In the library, Alexa's books slipped from her grasp, and Magnus, seemingly leaning over to pick one up for himself, gently closed the space between them, brushing their fingers together as he handed the book back. "Careful," he whispered, his voice soft enough to make her heart skip,
"I can't have you hurting yourself." The intimacy of the moment, the closeness, the low murmur of his concern, made everything else in the room fade. Claire had arrived late, carrying a stack of folders, and froze at the threshold, sensing that whatever she intended was already past her reach.
Wednesday brought the quiet thrill of breakfast together at Hermit Burger. Magnus led Alexa along the street from her apartment, hands clasped, the city alive yet irrelevant as they moved in their private rhythm. The staff greeted them warmly, accustomed to their routine, but the world beyond those walls seemed to bend around the small bubble Magnus had created.
As they shared a perfectly grilled burger, Magnus subtly brushed crumbs from her lips with a fingertip, a gesture so small it almost went unnoticed, but it made Alexa's breath hitch, her cheeks tinting with warmth. Across the table, Magnus's eyes held hers with a teasing intensity, as if silently acknowledging that the moment belonged entirely to them.
Thursday brought an accidental rainstorm during a walk through the campus gardens. Magnus, always anticipating, pulled a lightweight scarf from his coat and draped it over Alexa's shoulders before she could protest.
The damp strands of her hair brushed against his fingers as he adjusted the scarf, and the closeness sent a ripple of quiet electricity through both of them. They laughed softly at their reflection in the puddles, heads bending toward each other as droplets ran down the edge of the trees. Claire had followed at a distance, umbrella raised like a shield, but Magnus's subtle movements shielded Alexa, guiding her out of the line of sight, preserving the sanctity of their laughter-filled world.
By Friday, their connection had deepened into a comfortable intimacy. On the steps of the university's art building, Magnus leaned against the railing as Alexa joined him, sketchbook in hand. She playfully held it up to shield her blushing face as he leaned closer, shoulder nearly brushing hers. "Show me," he murmured, and she hesitated, then tilted the book slightly so he could see her lines.
The quiet compliment in his smile. the way his gaze lingered longer than necessary, made her fingers tremble, not from nerves, but from delight. Claire lingered on the sidewalk, pretending to be absorbed in her own notes, but Magnus's presence alone seemed to rewrite the space around them, leaving only the two of them in that shared warmth.
Saturday was their longest walk together. Magnus took her through streets she had never noticed, narrow alleys lined with tiny cafes and bookshops, past the park where the sunlight broke through the leaves in shifting patterns. Their hands were clasped so naturally that the world seemed to forget Claire's persistent attempts.
Alexa leaned slightly into him as they walked, a silent confession of comfort, and he responded by adjusting his pace so that her stride matched his effortlessly. They shared inside jokes, laughed at things only they found amusing, and at one quiet moment, Magnus stopped to let a stray dog approach, watching Alexa's gentle curiosity with soft amusement. Even in her laughter, her eyes never left him.
Sunday brought the week to a private crescendo. Magnus had arranged a quiet evening at Hermit Burger after closing, the lights dimmed lower than usual, the staff quietly working elsewhere. They shared dessert over candlelight, the aroma of melted chocolate and caramel filling the space. Their hands met across the table, fingers entwined naturally, without hesitation, as Magnus traced the back of her hand lightly with his thumb.
"This week," he said softly, "has been ours. Unseen, uninterrupted. I hope it felt like that to you too." Alexa nodded, cheeks flushed, warmth pooling in her chest. "More than that," she whispered, "I think… I'm starting to understand why being near you feels like… home." Magnus's lips curved into the faintest, satisfied smile, brushing the edge of her hand with his lips in a whisper of a kiss. The gesture, small yet intimate, encapsulated the week, a delicate rhythm of closeness, laughter, protection, and the quiet, undeniable building of trust and affection.
Through the week, Claire's presence lingered like a distant storm, but Magnus's careful orchestration, subtle gestures, and unwavering attentiveness ensured that each of their moments remained theirs alone. Every touch, every glance, every shared laugh cemented their growing intimacy, a delicate bubble of romance that existed quietly amid the bustle of the city. And Alexa, for the first time, felt entirely seen, entirely safe, entirely in the orbit of someone who understood the rhythm of her heart, and who gently, effortlessly, chose to match it with his own.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of coffee and street flowers, as Alexa and Magnus walked toward the university together. Their hands were clasped naturally, fingers laced, the effortless intimacy of the past week comforting yet quietly electrifying. The city seemed quieter when they moved together, or perhaps Magnus simply bent it to their rhythm, creating a bubble where only they existed.
Claire Baek, however, had other plans. She had spent the past week watching, calculating, and today she intended to act boldly. As they rounded a familiar corner near a small outdoor café, Claire stepped from the shadow of a building, arms wide in feigned surprise. "Alexa! Magnus! I didn't see you there!" she exclaimed, her tone sugary sweet, eyes darting toward Magnus as if daring him to glance her way.
Magnus didn't flinch. Instead, he subtly shifted his grip on Alexa's hand, a silent claim, a tether. "Good morning, Claire," he said evenly, his tone polite but with an undercurrent that made it clear nothing she did would disrupt the bubble they shared.
Claire, undeterred, leaned a little too close, letting her shoulder brush against Magnus's as if it were a mistake. She smiled in that way she knew drew attention, playful, teasing, almost innocent, but Alexa felt her chest tighten instantly. The moment slowed.
Alexa squeezed Magnus's hand, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion that spoke volumes. "Claire, that's enough," she said softly but firmly. "Please respect our space."
Claire feigned shock, letting her hand hover near Magnus's arm as if tempted, but Magnus's gaze never left Alexa's. The subtle, unwavering focus in his eyes, the calm certainty of his presence, was magnetic. Claire's bravado faltered slightly, though she quickly masked it with a forced laugh.
Then Claire took the boldest step: she leaned in, whispering something inaudible just to Magnus, her proximity testing boundaries, a calculated move to provoke jealousy or insecurity. But Magnus didn't flinch. Instead, his free hand rose naturally, fingertips brushing Alexa's cheek lightly, drawing her closer, almost unconsciously shielding her. His eyes met hers with quiet intensity, communicating more in that glance than words ever could: We are together. We are safe. Nothing she does matters.
The world slowed for Alexa. The swirl of Claire's intrusion, the bright city, the passerby, all faded into the background. Magnus's steady presence, the warmth of his hand on her skin, the faint pull of his body toward hers, it all reinforced the bubble they had built over the past week. Her heart surged, not with fear, not with uncertainty, but with certainty in their connection.
Claire finally straightened, realizing the subtle yet unbreakable bond she was up against. Magnus's calm, protective aura didn't just shield Alexa physically, it unshakably reinforced the trust and intimacy they had cultivated. Claire's attempt, audacious and dramatic, had failed. She could provoke no crack, no falter, in the connection that had quietly, firmly solidified.
As they continued their walk, Magnus released the gentle pressure on Alexa's cheek but kept her hand in his, their steps synchronized. The sunlight hit their intertwined fingers, casting small shadows on the pavement, a quiet testament to their unity.
Alexa laughed softly, shaking her head at the absurdity of Claire's antics. Magnus smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch a quiet promise: We'll face anything together.
The week's trials, Claire's persistent interference, had become nothing more than a backdrop for the growth of their bond. Theirs was a connection built not on coincidence, but on awareness, trust, and the small, deliberate acts of protection and care.
Claire had tested them, and failed. Magnus and Alexa had only become stronger, more certain, and more inseparable in the quiet, unspoken understanding that they were no longer merely companions, they were a team, intertwined in ways that could not be undone.
By the time they reached the small park near Alexa's apartment, she leaned into Magnus slightly, brushing her shoulder against his. "You know," she murmured, voice low, "I think she's going to give up soon."
Magnus's lips curved in that faint, teasing smile she had begun to crave. "Perhaps," he said softly. "Or perhaps she'll find a new way to remind us why it doesn't matter." His gaze softened as it met hers, warm and grounding. "Either way, we'll keep walking. Together."
Alexa let out a soft laugh, her heart full, her hand never leaving his. And in that moment, the city, the chaos, and even Claire's audacity felt impossibly distant. All that existed was Magnus, her hand in his, and the quiet, undeniable certainty of something new, extraordinary, and wholly theirs.
The evening settled over the city like a velvet curtain, the fading sunlight casting long, gold-tinged shadows across the streets. Magnus and Alexa walked home side by side, their hands intertwined, laughter spilling between them as they recalled the day's little absurdities. Their bubble of intimacy seemed impenetrable, until Claire Baek decided one final, desperate maneuver.
That night, as the city slept, Claire drifted into a restless sleep of her own. Magnus had not needed to confront her directly; he did not chase nor threaten. Instead, he let his presence infiltrate the realm where she was most vulnerable: her dreams. In the quiet darkness of her mind, a familiar sense of impossibility began to take shape.
She found herself standing in a distorted cityscape, the streets warped, the sky a tumultuous mix of shadow and fire. Magnus appeared at a distance, not threatening, yet impossibly immense. His eyes glimmered with an unearthly calm, the faint outline of power radiating from him in waves that seemed to distort reality itself. Claire felt a shiver run down her spine, not fear for her life, but for the choices she had made, the intentions she had harbored.
Around her, she saw visions of chaos: collapsing buildings, cities unmade, the innocent fleeing, the indifferent torn apart, not as punishment, but as consequence. Magnus's voice, calm, resonant, drifted over the scene. "Power," he said, "is not always about force. It is about consequence, about understanding the weight of actions and choices."
Claire tried to step forward, to speak, but the world shifted beneath her, the streets folding and twisting with a reality that obeyed only Magnus. Her plans, her manipulations, even her bravado, all of it felt insignificant, fragile, as if a mere whisper in the wind. She saw herself trying to interfere with Alexa, and in that vision, the outcome was always the same: Magnus remained unshakable, and her interference dissolved like smoke in his presence.
He came closer in the dream, calm and measured, stopping just before her, the storm of the world bending subtly around him. "Fear," he continued, voice soft yet heavy, "is not a tool to wield against others. It is a mirror. You must understand your own motives, your own heart, before it becomes anything else."
Claire's chest tightened. She had never felt true fear, not in the everyday sense, but this was something deeper, almost philosophical. Magnus's power was absolute here, yet he did not strike. He did not harm. He simply revealed the scope, the consequence, the sheer magnitude of his being, and her attempts seemed petty, almost comical in the face of it.
"You see," his voice whispered, fading like a gentle wind, "the world you think you control, the schemes you think matter… they are only threads in a tapestry I can choose to fold or unravel. But the greatest truth… is that your actions define you. And those who are careless with others' hearts and lives… they will always meet a reckoning."
And then, just as silently as it had begun, the dream dissolved. Claire awoke in her room, sweat on her brow, heart racing, and a shiver of understanding settling into her bones. Magnus had not spoken to her directly, had not acted in malice or anger. He had simply shown her the breadth of his power, the subtle dominion he held over consequence and reality, and the futility of meddling in what was already beyond her reach.
Across town, Magnus sat in his studio apartment, calm, reflective. He did not need to punish, nor confront. The lesson was delivered, and Claire's understanding, however reluctant, was enough. Meanwhile, Alexa slept peacefully, the bubble around them unbroken, safe, and reinforced by the quiet demonstration of Magnus's subtle, terrifying, and precise control.
The world outside might rush, interfere, and complicate, but inside the bubble he created, Magnus and Alexa's bond was untouchable, their shared moments sacred, and those who tried to intrude were reminded, in ways subtle or profound, that some things were not to be toyed with.
The morning sunlight filtered softly through Alexa's apartment window, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden light. Claire Baek did not appear at her usual hours, nor did she send any messages. Magnus, calm and ever observant, had anticipated this. Claire's interference had ended, not with confrontation or words, but with quiet submission, her understanding of his reach, his subtle yet absolute control, leaving her with little room to act.
Alexa noticed the absence immediately, a small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time in weeks, the mornings felt lighter. She was no longer anticipating the minor skirmishes of Claire's presence, and she could enjoy the simplicity of Magnus's company without distraction.
Magnus arrived at her apartment at the usual time, a quiet knock at the door. When Alexa opened it, his presence filled the small space as it always did, calm, confident, and impossibly grounding. He stepped inside, brushing past her as though the world outside had faded entirely. Their hands found each other instantly, fingers intertwining, the touch casual yet intimate, carrying the weight of unspoken understanding and affection.
"You've been thinking about the weekend," Magnus said softly, voice low, teasing yet warm, as he settled beside her on the small sofa.
Alexa tilted her head, letting a small laugh escape. "I… wasn't thinking, really. I just wanted time with you."
Magnus's eyes softened, a faint smile curving his lips. "Time," he murmured, "is easier to savor when it's ours alone."
And it was. In those quiet hours, they shared moments that were both ordinary and extraordinary. A shared coffee, brushing crumbs from one another's hands, lingering touches that left their hearts racing, and glances that said everything words could not. Every small movement, every laugh, every pause in conversation became a shared ritual of intimacy, a private language between them.
Outside, the world continued, unaware of the subtle disturbances Magnus could control. A passerby might pause in awe for no apparent reason, a fallen leaf might drift unnaturally to the feet of a stranger, a streetlight flicker in gentle rhythm, but only those attuned could sense the trace of his influence. To anyone else, it was coincidence, a whisper of chance. To Magnus, it was an effortless orchestration, a quiet demonstration of his presence without revealing the true scope of his power.
One afternoon, as they walked through the city, hand in hand, Magnus guided Alexa past a small street corner where a minor accident could have occurred, a delivery cyclist colliding with a pedestrian. In the briefest moment, Magnus adjusted the sequence of events, no one harmed, no attention drawn, and the world continued without noticing. Alexa, leaning into his arm, felt the safety he radiated but could not pinpoint why. She only knew she trusted him completely, utterly.
At the same time, Claire watched from a distance, her posture rigid with restraint. The subtle lesson from Magnus's dream had settled into her awareness. She could no longer act without consequences she couldn't control, and she understood now that her attempts were futile. She turned away quietly, surrendering, a small knot of respect, and fear, embedded deep in her chest.
As the week passed, Magnus and Alexa's connection deepened. Their conversations became more personal, more revealing. He shared little details about his routines, his rare moments of vulnerability, and his reflections on life that were rarely seen by anyone. Alexa, in turn, began to reveal the parts of herself she usually kept hidden: the memories of growing up under her grandparents' strict guidance, the small insecurities she carried, and the way she craved trust and stability.
Magnus listened, always patient, always attentive, offering only subtle guidance and comfort. The touches between them, hands brushing, a gentle squeeze, the occasional lean into one another's shoulder, were private rituals of closeness. Each moment reinforced their bond, each shared laugh, each quiet glance weaving them together more tightly.
And then came a subtle, public display of Magnus's influence. While they stopped at a small outdoor café, a minor argument between two strangers erupted over a misplaced order. A tense moment, easily escalating, but Magnus's presence shifted the atmosphere. Voices softened, gestures slowed, and the argument dissolved into laughter and apologies, leaving the café patrons bewildered at how the tension evaporated so suddenly. Alexa, observing this, felt a thrill ripple through her, not of fear, but admiration. The world could shift in his presence, yet she felt safe, grounded, and utterly cherished.
By the week's end, the tension that had lingered from Claire's interference vanished entirely. Magnus and Alexa moved through the city like two people in a shared bubble of quiet certainty. They held hands more openly, laughed more freely, and even their silences were comfortable, filled with a mutual understanding that the world around them could wait. The romance they had nurtured, once fragile and new, now glowed steadily, intimate, private, and unshakable, their connection tested and proven by subtle external challenges and their mutual trust in one another.
The crisp autumn air hung over the university campus like a thin veil of pretense and pride. Students bustled between classes, but beneath the ordinary rhythm of academia, a different current flowed, one that Magnus and Alexa had unknowingly stirred. In the upper echelons of the social hierarchy, a storm was quietly forming.
Vanessa Du Pont, her designer jacket impeccably tailored, stood in the corner of the student lounge, her posture rigid, lips pressed into a thin line of controlled irritation. Beside her, Harrison "Harry" Whitford III drummed his fingers impatiently on the polished oak table, his perfectly groomed hair catching the morning sun like a halo of entitlement. Both had watched with growing unease as Magnus and Alexa moved through campus, not just physically, but socially. Their quiet influence had begun to ripple.
It wasn't that Magnus had done anything overt. He walked with Alexa in subtle harmony, their hands occasionally brushing, his attention on her with an intensity that drew eyes without effort. His demeanor, calm and controlled, seemed to magnetically pull students of all backgrounds into shared admiration and curiosity. Alexa, naturally kind and thoughtful, complemented him effortlessly, engaging others without condescension, her laughter light yet magnetic. Together, they commanded attention in a way wealth alone could not.
Vanessa's voice broke the tense silence. "It's… absurd," she said, cheeks flushing with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "Do you see how people are gravitating toward them? Even the students who normally wouldn't associate with anyone outside our circles, they're following them. It's like… like they're rewriting the social rules."
Harry snorted, but it was strained. "I've thrown every event, every networking opportunity, every exclusive gathering… and yet they're still the ones influencing others. Even the top-tier scholarship students who used to only care about grades and status are… intrigued by them. It's pathetic, really, that our own influence is crumbling around us."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed, fixated on the entrance of the campus café where Magnus and Alexa had just emerged, laughing quietly, hands brushing but deliberately visible to the world. "They're… perfect," Vanessa hissed, almost under her breath, as if speaking too loudly might summon them. "And it's not fair. None of this should be… natural. Magnus… he shouldn't exist like this. And Alexa… how does she even keep up?"
Harry leaned back, frustration twisting his features. "We have the money. We have the events. We have the connections. Yet somehow, they move through the campus like they're untouchable. People respect them… admire them… maybe even… like them more than they like us."
Vanessa's fingers drummed anxiously against her thigh. "We can't let them overshadow us. Not academically, socially, or… personally. We'll pull every resource, funding, influence, tutors, invitations. We'll throw everything at maintaining control. They think they can just exist and disrupt the hierarchy? Not on my watch."
Harry's jaw tightened. "Do whatever you need. I'll back you. But… be careful. There's something about him… Magnus. I've seen him. People say he's just… charming, quiet, brilliant. But it's more than that. He doesn't just draw people in, he… he changes the atmosphere. Changes the energy of a room. And I don't know if anyone should be able to do that without consequences."
Vanessa's eyes flicked to where Magnus and Alexa had now disappeared around the corner, and a chill ran through her despite the warm sunlight. "We'll see about that," she muttered, her tone hard and determined, but tinged with an unease she refused to acknowledge.
Unseen by anyone, Magnus had already sensed the brewing storm, the ripple of envy and resentment directed at them. But he made no overt move, his eyes merely followed Alexa as she tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing softly at something he had whispered. There was a subtlety in his presence that made even the most arrogant student pause unconsciously, a whisper of control that needed no explanation. It was enough to unsettle those who had built their lives on wealth and superficial influence, while leaving their target utterly unaware and free to enjoy the ordinary, yet extraordinary, moments of their connection.
As the campus hierarchy began to stir, plotting and maneuvering, Magnus and Alexa remained in their quiet orbit, hands brushing, laughter mingling with the wind, unaware of the silent tension they had ignited, but destined to feel its impact soon enough.
Vanessa and Harry, frustrated by the subtle but undeniable influence Magnus and Alexa had begun to exert over campus life, decided to escalate. No longer content with mere social maneuvering or whispered insults in lounges, they turned to what they believed was a more "effective" tacti, intimidation. But this time, they intended to go bigger, to bring in people who could actually inspire fear.
"I've had enough of seeing them effortlessly charm everyone," Vanessa said, her tone sharp, laced with suppressed panic. "Those last attempts with the small-time goons… total joke. Magnus didn't even flinch. He probably laughed behind their backs."
Harry ran a hand through his hair, leaning over the mahogany table in the exclusive club he frequented. "This time, we do it right. None of these low-tier wannabe thugs. I've called my father. His associates, the ones who own clubs, bars, private security firms in the upper districts, they have influence. Respect. Fear. Real men who understand leverage."
Vanessa's eyes glinted. "We need someone who can shake him without leaving a trace that comes back on us. Someone he'll see as a threat. This isn't about fighting. This is about proving he's not untouchable."
Harry smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Exactly. We want him to feel… just a flicker of danger. That little ripple he causes around campus? Time to see if he can handle a wave."
Meanwhile, Magnus, entirely unaware of the specifics but subtly sensing the tension, observed the shift in the atmosphere like a predator feeling the movement of prey through the underbrush. His senses, honed far beyond ordinary human perception, detected the coordination of resources, the unseen whispers of influence, and the calculated panic masked beneath confident postures.
He didn't panic. Not even slightly. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze narrowing with a quiet amusement. Where Vanessa and Harry thought they were pulling strings, he was already perceiving the pattern, the people they were hiring, the chains of influence stretching from their wealthy families to these so-called "top-tier thugs," their confidence resting on the assumption that money and intimidation equated to power.
Magnus's lips curved into the faintest smile. They still don't understand the scale of the game.
Unlike the first time, when low-tier street thugs had been no more than a nuisance, these men and women were seasoned in maintaining authority over clubs, bars, and exclusive districts. They had legitimacy. They carried reputation, influence, and the capacity to instill fear in ordinary people. But Magnus's presence, and the subtle threads of his awareness, rendered all assumptions of normal threats obsolete.
Even now, before a single step had been taken, Magnus could foresee the precise reactions of every player: the subtle arrogance of the thugs, the uncertainty hidden behind Vanessa's polished veneer, Harry's tense confidence. Every overconfident move would be anticipated, every misstep accounted for. And, if necessary, corrected.
He tapped the edge of his glass, his expression calm, almost bored, and allowed a thought to slip outward, not directly, but as a whisper in the undercurrent of the world around him. Let them come. Let them try. Let them see what real influence looks like.
And somewhere, in the depths of the city's elite networks, the ripple had begun. The men and women recruited by Vanessa and Harry would soon realize they were stepping into a game they could not win, facing a man who did not merely respond to threats he orchestrated them. Every alley, every shadow, every street corner Magnus could command, and any perception of danger could be magnified or erased with a mere thought.
The stage was set. The upper district would soon learn that Magnus was no ordinary target, and that Vanessa and Harry's attempt to reclaim influence had awakened criminals forces far beyond their control.