Rädsla sat alone in his high-rise office, the untouched whiskey sweating in his hand. The city below stretched endlessly, a kingdom built on his control. Yet, for the first time, it felt hollow.

“What just happened to me?”

Days had passed since he walked away from the deal; the moment he should have cemented his place above the rest.

Instead, he had left it behind. For what? A feeling? A presence?

No. He had been manipulated.

Asih had done something to him.

Not with force, not with threats, something far more insidious.

She had made him doubt his beliefs.

And doubt was weakness.

He had to prove her wrong.

The sanctuary stood as it always had – untouched, unmoved.

It should have been his.

Rädsla entered with a storm brewing in his chest, each step pressing against the silence.

He did not wait for Asih this time. He hunted her.

He found her, sitting on the floor near the altar, hands resting in her lap.

Candlelight filled the space, flickering against her serene face.

She did not startle when he approached.

If anything, she seemed to welcome him.

Rädsla clenched his fists.

“What gives you the right to question me?”

His voice cut through the stillness like a blade.

“You are nothing. You have nothing,” he screamed defiantly.

“You are just a street urchin with no education.

A woman with no power, no wealth, no authority.

Who are you to challenge me?”

Asih lifted her eyes to meet his, calm as the ocean before a storm.

“What does power prove, Rädsla?”

He scoffed. “Power is everything. It moves the world.

It decides who thrives and who starves; who rules and who kneels.”

She tilted her head toward the candlelight.

“And yet, here you are;

seeking someone who has nothing of value to you. Why?”

His jaw tightened. “Because I refuse to loose to the likes of you. I will expose you for the fraud you are.”

She sat unmoved, as the words rang through the space.

“Tell me, what have I taken from you?”

He opened his mouth, but no answer came.

Asih continued, her voice steady. “You say I have nothing. If this is true, I would not trouble you. And yet, here you are. How does something that is nothing shake you so deeply?”

Rädsla’s breath was sharper now, his pulse quickening. “You think yourself wise? You live in fantasy! Love is not enough. Kindness does not rule the world.”

She nodded slowly, as if considering his words.

Then, she asked, “Have you ever been loved, Rädsla?”

He froze.

Something inside him recoiled, and he lashed back, “You think this is about love?”

“It’s a simple question.”

His jaw tightened and his heart pounded in his chest. “I don’t believe in love. I believe in control.”

She regarded him carefully. “Do you believe you are in control?”

Rädsla sneered. “I can.”

Asih studied him for a long moment.

Then, in the same steady voice, she asked, “Do you believe you can acquire power from the space around you?”

His eyes narrowed, “What kind of question is that?!”

She gestured around the sacred space. “Do you believe that owning this place can make you whole?”

Rädsla scoffed. “I don’t need to be whole. I need control.”

Asih nodded and paused, “Control of what?”

“Everything.”

She tilted her head, “Then take it.”

He scoffed in reply, “Take what?!”

“This space. Take its power.” Her voice was soft, but it landed like a challenge. “You believe ownership gives you control, so claim it now. Seize the stillness in this space. Command time itself. Go back to the negotiation table. Take it.”

Rädsla’s breath caught. He realized it, yet he couldn’t stop himself from responding out loud, “That’s absurd.”

She met his gaze with steadiness and ease. “You can feel the power this space commands. Yet, you cannot hold it, and you cannot measure it.”

She pressed further. “What do you hope to control?”

His jaw tightened. His instincts told him to clench his fists and lash out in physical rage – to fight. But there was something in her presence – unshaken, undisturbed. He could find no flaw in her ethos. No weakness to attack.

She whispered softly as a mother, “What is real power here?”

Something inside him cracked and resonated from deep within, as though it had always been there – dormant and unnoticed – buried under years of conflict. He had built an empire on the belief that power belonged to those who seized it; success measured by deals for power and profit gained.

But here, in this moment, he reckoned with something he could not see or touch. He realized the negotiation was within.

The space. The stillness. The loving kindness of this stranger who needed nothing from him. They activated this part of him that he had long ignored.

It was unshakeable. His mind scrambled for a response or rebuttal, but nothing came. For the first time, he had no move to make.

The silence stretched between them.

The weight of the moment settled on Rädsla; not the crushing weight of defeat, but the vast, unfamiliar weight of something real.

Slowly, involuntarily – you might say humbly – he sank to his knees.

Asih gazed into the flickering candlelight.

She did not rise in triumph.

She simply sat in the glow of the light that filled the space. “You are not lost,” she offered softly. “You are only beginning to see, not with your eyes, but from the place in you that matters most.”Rädsla closed his eyes.

He didn’t understand what was happening, yet it was undeniable nonetheless.

He was shook from the inside, he felt the weight of years of suffering. And, for the first time in his life, he chose to remain in stillness.