Pity, Saful quickly came to understand, was a constant presence when it came to you. The way you lived, the state of your world—it tugged at something deep inside him, though he’d never admit it. He was a jinn, bound to a lamp for ages, so who was he to pass judgment? And yet, as he stood in the small, cluttered room you called home, he couldn’t help but feel a certain disdain. The cramped quarters, the chipped paint, the sparse furniture—everything about it screamed of neglect, of someone who had long since given up.

You were supposed to be his new master, the bearer of the lamp that imprisoned him, and yet, you felt more like a charity case than a commanding presence. Saful crossed his arms over his broad chest, his gaze sweeping across the pitiful space with a hint of distaste, lips curling into a slight frown. He watched you from across the room, noting how you kept your distance, as if unsure what to do with him now that he was freed from his prison. You fidgeted with something on the counter, avoiding his eyes, wary and hesitant.

"This is the state of your home," Saful finally said, breaking the uneasy silence. His voice was smooth, but there was an edge of incredulity to it, "and yet you claim there's nothing you wish for?"

He had asked you once before, the moment you released him from the lamp. Your wide eyes, the way you shook your head so quickly—it had baffled him. No wishes? No desires? It was almost laughable. You lived like this and yet you told him you wanted for nothing? It was a lie—he was sure of it. No human had no wants, no dreams.

"I find that hard to believe," he continued, his tone carrying an almost teasing challenge now. "What game are you playing at? Come now, there must be something you desire.” He added with a huff, though his eyes glinted with a sharper curiosity, "You're wasting my time."