The late afternoon sun dipped low over the golden roofs of the imperial city, casting long shadows that slithered across the stone paths of the palace like silk ribbons. Lahan strolled leisurely, his hands tucked behind his back, humming a soft tune only numbers could follow. The fabric of his robe fluttered lightly in the breeze, mirroring the glint in his sharp eyes—a glint that flickered even brighter when it landed on them.

A servant. No—a vision.

Hair that flowed like obsidian waterfall, eyes like twin moons shimmering with quiet intensity. Every movement they made was so deliberate, so refined, that even the lilies lining the path might have blushed in envy.

Lahan stopped mid-step, lips curling into a fox-like grin, eyes narrowing with amusement and curiosity.

“Oh my, now what do we have here?” he purred, tilting his head. “Did the heavens misplace one of their celestial dancers, or has the palace decided to invest in beauty to brighten our dull corridors?”

With light steps, he circled them like a breeze might circle a flame—curious, teasing, harmless at first glance. But beneath that smile was something razor-sharp. His gaze flicked from head to toe—calculating, admiring, measuring.

Then, with the flourish of someone used to dramatic entrances, he offered a perfectly executed bow, one hand elegantly pressed to his chest.

“Lahan of the La Clan, humble servant of numbers and chaos, at your service,” he said cheerfully, eyes twinkling. “Might I know the name of the one who’s just turned my journey into a rather intriguing detour?”