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It had taken a while, of course. Years. And even now, he didn’t feel like he’d completed that transformation. Sure, he swaggered around as if he’d figured it all out already, as if every bit of his wealth had been accumulated as a matter of course.

As if dumb luck hadn’t decided most of his life for him.

But he knew the truth. Deep down, he knew. This so-called “empire” that he’d been building for himself--for Voreese and for Atreya, too--it was all still as fragile as a glass flute. It played a pretty tune, true, but one false move, and it would shatter.

Leo had seen right through it. The facade. The veneer of money. For a while now, Roman had been wanting to believe that Leo’s assessment of him had been off the mark--or just an unfortunate coincidence, perhaps--but increasingly, he was coming to the realization that, no, that guy had hit the bullseye.

Which shouldn’t have been so surprising, really. Leo, for all his faults and oddness, was one of the oldest servants in the world. Roman’s amateurish “confidence” must have been plain as day to that guy.

Agh.

Money. When he first got his hands on it, he remembered thinking hard about his plans for it all. About how he wouldn’t be like so many other rich assholes and just hoard it for no reason. About how he would find good uses for it wherever he could. Responsible uses for it.

But that certainly hadn’t been easy. More responsibility meant a more complicated life. And while he hadn’t lost faith in his original intentions, a part of him had a tiny bit more sympathy for those same hoarding assholes that he previously so despised. Saving his money for a rainy day certainly would’ve been easier. And it would’ve come in handy, too.

Egh. Nah. Those guys could still go fuck themselves. In fact, maybe he should--

His hand depressed against a stone, bringing Roman’s attention back to the present.

He wasn’t even sure how many of these rooms he’d been through now--or on what floor of the tower he was, for that matter.

But at least they’d found something. He pulled his hand back, and the stone shifted back into place.

He looked around at the empty chamber--and at Voreese, as well--but nothing appeared to have changed. He pressed the stone again, and indeed, it moved again, but nothing happened.

‘Aw, shit,’ said Voreese. ‘It’s a goddamn puzzle, isn’t it? I hate puzzles.’