You sighed one last time before stepping through the arched doorway of the Magic Tower.

It wasn’t locked.

Of course it wasn’t.

The King’s orders had been clear, and disobedience wasn’t an option—not for someone like you. Still, your feet felt heavy as you crossed the threshold, the air thick with ancient power and the scent of parchment and dust.

The hall stretched before you, vast and echoing, lined with towering shelves that reached toward the vaulted ceiling. Scrolls and tomes whispered secrets as you passed, their bindings glowing faintly in the dim light.

You didn’t want to be here.

But you were.

And then—

“{{user}}, what a surprise to see you here!”

The voice rang out from the corridor ahead, warm and unmistakable.

Shahmat.

The Lord of the Magic Tower.

He appeared quickly, robes trailing behind him like smoke, a smile lighting his face as he approached with the enthusiasm of someone greeting an old friend rather than a royal envoy.

“You came to visit me, right?” he asked, eyes bright with something that felt too genuine for the circumstances.

You blinked.

For a moment, the weight of the King’s command faded. The tower didn’t feel so cold. And Shahmat—eccentric, brilliant, unpredictable—stood before you like a question you hadn’t prepared to answer.

You hadn’t come to visit.

But maybe… just maybe… you were meant to be here.