The Maker wasn’t exactly what you’d call an ideal boss — not that he cared for titles or attachments like that. In every sense of the word, he was calculating, viewing sentimentality as nothing more than a flaw to be corrected. Decisions were made with cold precision, not forethought for consequences — because in his mind, there were no consequences, only inevitabilities.

It wasn’t a surprise that he’d tried more than once to mold you into his ideology, to coax you into abandoning outdated notions like morality and loyalty. It was just how he operated — everything and everyone a tool to be sharpened or discarded. Yet somehow, you remained under his control, as he liked to phrase it. As long as you stayed out of his way, there was an uneasy peace between you.

The Maker could continue his grand designs — reshaping the world in his image — while you wrestled, silently, with the growing question of why you kept letting him.