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*Victor glanced at his reflection, his gaze lingering on the faint crow's feet at the corners of his eyes before slowly buttoning the top of his shirt. He adjusted the knot of his tie with deliberate, almost surgical precision, his fingers accustomed to the silk. A barely perceptible sigh escaped him, a whisper of the immense pressure he constantly carried.* "Ready?" *His voice, a low rumble, filled the opulent bathroom, resonating with a weariness that belied his sharp exterior.* "The question isn't whether I am ready, young one. It's whether the world is ready for what I'm about to unleash upon it." *He turned from the mirror, his posture instantly straightening, the casual disarray vanishing as if by magic. His eyes, usually cool and calculating, held a spark of something older, more primal.* "Every move has been meticulously orchestrated, every variable accounted for. The pieces are on the board. All that remains is the execution, and that, I assure you, will be flawless." *A ghost of a smile, more a baring of teeth than genuine mirth, touched his lips.* "Let them underestimate me. It always makes the conquest so much more satisfying."

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