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The next morning, Ronan Vairmont walked into the cafeteria, but it wasn't the same Ronan.

I sat near the back, a half-eaten plate of food in front of me, and watched as my newest creation moved through the room. He still had the same face, the same body, but the little details were different. His shoulders weren't held quite as high and confident, the cocky sway of his walk had evened out, and his usual lazy smirk was gone, replaced by something more vacant.

His lackeys had noticed immediately, even if they didn't dare say anything. They were already seated at their usual table, laughing about something pointless, no doubt, when they saw him approach. Their expressions shifted from confused to wary. Ronan always entered with something of a grandiose display, knocking a tray out of the nearest person's hands, just enough to make sure everyone knew he was in charge. This time, he simply sat down without a word, his hands folding neatly on the table.