《The Last Amendment: 11:30 PM, The End of an Empire [English]》 The encounter America has made its choice. In the elections of the previous year, a new leader was chosen: Ronald Jinger. While the nation celebrates, he watches in silence from his private villa, fully aware that his days of peace are numbered. Soon, he will have to immerse himself in the games of power, the difficult decisions, the shadows of politics. In the dead of night, the phone rings. On the other end of the line, the overseas president offers his congratulations, but beneath the words of courtesy, something else lingers. A promise? A warning? Jinger ends the call without responding, staring at the glass of Italian grappa in his hand. The strong, dry taste burns his throat. From that moment, time seems to accelerate. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Months pass, and into his inner circle steps a man whose name echoes across the world: Maunsk. A visionary. An incredibly wealthy investor. A man with too many secrets. A month earlier, during a secluded fishing trip, far from the eyes of the press, they had spoken at length. About the future. About revolutions. About power. No one knows exactly what was said that day, but since then, Jingers gaze has changed. The new year begins with the chaos of bureaucracy and the relentless march of events. But it is at night that the most interesting things happen. That evening, as the president seeks a moment of respite in the Oval Office, the doors open without warning. A figure steps forward from the shadows. Hair as red as fire. Eyes that gleam like emeralds in the darkness. A long black dress clings to her silhouette like a shadow. She does not introduce herself. She doesn''t need to. Jinger tenses. A shiver runs down his spine. He knew this moment would come. But not like this. Not now. He swallows hard and leans against the desk, as if anchoring himself to reality. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asks: "Should I be afraid?" She tilts her head slightly, watching him with a quiet intensity. Then, with the faintest trace of a smile, she replies: "That depends on how you choose to meet what comes next." The end has already begun SCENE: OVAL OFFICE ¨C NIGHT The clock reads 11:30 PM. Ronald Jinger pours himself another glass of Italian grappa, stares at it for a moment, then downs it in one go. The room is silent. Too silent. Then, without warning, the doors open. Zoryn strides in, unannounced. Fiery red hair. Eyes like ancient emeralds. Her black gown glides across the floor like a living shadow. Jinger stiffens, his fists clenching on the desk. Jinger: "Who the hell are you?" A faint smile flickers on Zoryn¡¯s lips. Zoryn: "Many have tried to name me. None have succeeded." Jinger slams a fist on the table. Jinger: "Cut the crap. I don¡¯t like games. You walked in here like you own the place. That¡¯s bold. Very bold. And I don¡¯t like bold when it¡¯s not on my terms." Zoryn tilts her head slightly, as if observing a petulant child. Zoryn: "You misunderstand. I do not own this place. But I have always been here, in the halls of every great empire. Watching. Listening." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. A chill runs down Jinger¡¯s spine. Jinger: "You''re talking in riddles. I don¡¯t do riddles. I do facts. So here¡¯s a fact: if you don¡¯t tell me why you¡¯re here, you¡¯re walking out of this place in cuffs." Zoryn smiles, a smile with no warmth. Zoryn: "You have already felt it, haven¡¯t you? The weight. The inevitability." Jinger remains silent. That smile bothers him. It makes him feel small. Zoryn: "Empires rise, Ronald. And empires fall. It is the way of things." Jinger lets out a harsh, forced laugh. Jinger: "Oh, please. I¡¯ve heard this garbage before. The media, the opposition, the weak¡ªthey all say the same thing. But guess what? I win. I always win." Zoryn takes a single step forward. The air seems heavier. Zoryn: "Even kings have their sunsets." Jinger opens his mouth to retort, but something stops him. A strange tightness in his throat. Zoryn: "You should consider yourself fortunate. I could take you now, in this very moment, as history has done with so many before you. And yet... I am generous." Jinger narrows his eyes. Jinger: "Generous? You think I should thank you?" Zoryn: "No. I think you should use the time I grant you wisely. Every step you take, every word you speak, I will be watching. And when your time ends, I will be the one to accompany you." She steps closer. Now, she is standing right before him. Zoryn: "I will be here until your days on this planet are over. And that day is soon, Ronald." Jinger swallows hard but says nothing. --- SCENE: THE WHITE HOUSE ¨C THE NEXT MORNING Jinger walks through the hallway, the morning light filtering through the windows. His expression is the same as always. A man of confidence, determination, invincibility. And yet, those who know him well notice something. Something subtle, almost imperceptible. The First Lady watches him as he settles at the breakfast table. First Lady: "You didn¡¯t sleep well." Jinger rubs a hand over his face, then flashes her a sharp smile. Jinger: "Nonsense. I sleep like a baby. The best sleep. Incredible sleep." The First Lady notices the slight tremor in his fingers as he picks up his cup. First Lady: "And who¡¯s the woman?" Jinger stiffens just a fraction. A micro-movement, but she catches it. First Lady: "Ronald?" Jinger lowers his cup, casting her a distracted glance. Then, with the same ever-present smirk, he replies: Jinger: "Just someone who thinks they know how the world works." But his gaze shifts, just for an instant, toward the end of the hallway. Where Zoryn stands, motionless. Watching him. She is no longer smiling. The spoon in his cup clinks softly.