Varya's ears were filled with the unholy sounds; the room was shrouded in darkness, and everything was obscured. except for his face. Just his face.
Glowing in the dark, covered with sweat.
Varya rolled her eyes, biting her lips, she stuffed back her yawn and looked for some more keys to change the camera angle.
The last thing she wanted was to watch someone having sex on a Sunday morning. She was supposed to drink some hot ginger tea and eat poha, but here she is, sitting in a dark room, her eyes glued to the screens, watching an old man engaging in scandalous behavior with a woman half his age.
There were cameras hidden in the room of an underground sex club. She had been investigating this man for days. Playing all saints to the world, but there is always a devil within.
Following his every move, recording all his calls and schedules. On paper, it's stalking, on the law it's a crime, on her job it's an investigation, but for her it's fun.
No one knows her, but she knows everyone. Their name, life, and, with minimal effort, their secrets are hers.
She hates the world, but behind the screen, she finds it interesting.
People are often careless; they live their lives as if no one is watching them. Unaware of the danger passing by them. She knows she is not the only one in the world; there are thousands like her in this population.
It's a game of hiding, it's a game of winning.
A notification popped up on the screen. She breathed in relief for some distraction from watching two naked bodies humping. Soon, the relief changed into frustration when she saw the number.
Hriday—for the world—is her work acquaintance. Had asked for a favour, in return, she'll be getting her camera implanted into the ministry. It's no harm to know some secrets that the world isn't allowed to, more or less, it's always a blessing to know more.
Secrets are poison, a very slow poison that won't kill you at first. Or rather, they feel good, make you their addict, and soon, when you lose your grip on your control and give in to the desire and weight of them, they will destroy you.
She thrives on knowing what breaks people. Secrets-fragile to their owners, yet deadly in the hands of an enemy. And to Varya, they are more than mere whispers; they are weapons to wield, power to claim, a throne built on the ruin of hidden truths.
Shit: So? See something?
Varya rolled her eyes. For the past hour, the only thing her eyes could see was the unholy videos that would have to dip her eyes into the acid twice, probably. She hates this, but this is her work.
