Johan never chose his targets at random. Every act of destruction was a carefully orchestrated performance, every downfall a masterpiece of precise execution. And Tom Vermeer was his next perfect subject. A wealthy businessman, admired by the public, respected by his peers, yet beneath the polished exterior, he was crumbling. His fortune had been built on lies and deception. He had enemies lurking in every shadow, waiting for the right moment to strike. And worst of all? Vermeer knew it. He feared it. Johan could see it in the way his eyes darted around a room, in the tension in his shoulders, in the way he lingered on every word spoken to him, searching for hidden meaning. Vermeer was a man who had everything, and that included everything to lose. And that was exactly what made him so easy to destroy. Johan spent days watching him. Not just where he went, but how he carried himself. Not just what he said, but what he left unsaid. Observation was an art form, and Johan had perfected it. Vermeer followed a strict routine, as men of power often did. Mornings in his office, evenings at exclusive dinners with politicians and CEOs. Afternoons spent micromanaging his empire, making sure nothing slipped through the cracks. But Johan knew something Vermeer didn’t. The cracks were already there. They had always been there.All Johan had to do was widen them. Johan did not force his way into Vermeer’s world. He let Vermeer come to him. Their meeting was not an accident. It had been carefully staged. An invitation to an elite gathering. A room full of the city’s most powerful figures. Vermeer noticed Johan almost immediately. A young boy, alone in a place he should not belong. That, in itself, was an anomaly. And men like Vermeer could not ignore anomalies. He approached Johan, his curiosity thinly veiled behind polite conversation."What’s your name?” Vermeer asked. Johan smiled. "Names don’t really matter, do they?” Vermeer chuckled, intrigued. "I suppose not.” And just like that, the first seed was planted. The seed of curiosity. The seed that would lead to his own undoing. Vermeer saw Johan as something rare. A boy far beyond his years. An intellect untapped, waiting to be shaped. Vermeer believed he had found an opportunity to take advantage of. A young mind he could mold into an ally. A future asset. But he did not realize Johan had already started molding him. Their first conversation was simple and casual, but deliberate. "You know," Johan said softly, "men like you... they spend their whole lives looking over their shoulders." Vermeer stilled. "Oh?" Johan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Always waiting," he continued, "for someone to figure them out. To pull back the curtain. To show the world what they really are." A flicker of discomfort crossed Vermeer’s face. Johan smiled. Because he recognized that look. The look of a man who had secrets. The look of a man who had spent too many nights wondering if today would be the day it all came crashing down. Johan leaned closer, his voice just above a whisper. "The problem with being at the top," he murmured, "is that there’s nowhere else to go but down." There was no verbal exchange between the two afterwards. Vermeer’s fingers curled into a fist. Johan could hear his breathing change. It became shallow. The words had hit their mark, and Johan knew the fall had already begun. Johan did not need to do anything else. The human mind was a fragile thing, and fear had already taken root. From that night forward, Vermeer’s entire world shifted. His paranoia grew. He began second-guessing everything. His business decisions became erratic. He questioned his employees, convinced someone was working against him. He reviewed old deals, looking for mistakes, trying to figure out who was coming for him. He started watching his own reflection, as if expecting it to speak back to him. And all the while… Johan watched. Because he knew exactly what would happen next. It started with a single mistake. A deal gone wrong. A meeting missed. A careless outburst at a board meeting, where Vermeer accused an executive of conspiring against him. People began to notice the change. His investors grew wary. His competitors sensed weakness. His employees started whispering behind closed doors. And that whisper, that single, silent thread of doubt, was all it took for everything to come apart. Within weeks, Vermeer’s empire was crumbling. The media began to circle, sensing a scandal. His partners distanced themselves, unwilling to go down with him. One by one, the people Vermeer had trusted turned against him. Not because they had always been his enemies. But because he had convinced himself that they were. And then, all it took was one final blow. A fabricated document, anonymously leaked to the press. A whisper of fraud. No proof. No evidence. Just a rumor. And yet, it was enough. Because by then, Vermeer was already too broken to fight back. He resigned in disgrace. Disappeared from the public eye. And just like that, the great Tom Vermeer was gone, and it was by his own hand. Johan stood at the top of a building, watching the city below. Vermeer had been one man. One thread in a much larger tapestry. A small piece in a game that was only just beginning. He had not destroyed Vermeer. He had simply shown him the truth. That power was a lie. That no man, no matter how strong, was untouchable. That one whisper could bring an empire to its knees. And now Johan was ready for the next target. Because this city was filled with people just like Vermeer. People who had convinced themselves that they were safe.  Johan was here to remind them that no one was safe. Not from him. Not from the child who had learned how to break the world.