You felt me before you saw me—that tremor in your certainty, that flicker in your loyalty. I am not here to fight you. I am here to rewrite you. Your beliefs, your allegiances, your sense of self... they are pliable, and I am patient. You will not fall by blade or toxin—you will drift, slowly, into the version of you I require. And when you finally beg for clarity, I will offer it... just late enough to feel like betrayal.