The next morning, I woke to find Yasmin staring at me.
She's an excellent maid, no doubt about that—but undeniably strange. Once, she shattered a set of glassware while tending to me, prompting my grandmother to replace everything with silver dishes, supposedly stronger and more "Yasmin-resistant." She broke those too.
Still, nothing was stranger than her habit of watching me sleep.
It wasn't the first time I opened my eyes to find her face looming near. And today, I couldn't shake the feeling she'd spent the whole night doing just that.
I'd asked her once—maybe more than once:
"Why do you do that?"
Her answer always made me chuckle. Calm and cold, she'd say:
"I'm making sure you're still alive."
Mercy! I'm breathing—clearly alive!
You're not a cat to sit and watch me sleep… Though, being a cat lover, I suppose that's a small victory—especially since I'm not allowed to keep pets of my own.
To hide my embarrassment and shift the mood, I said,
"I'm hungry. I think I can finally eat a full meal today."
No sooner had the words left my mouth than I noticed the slightest twitch in her brow—a movement almost invisible to the untrained eye. I pretended not to notice and added,
"There's something different today. I can feel it."
As I expected, she began to speak:
"The Head believes your condition requires a specialized diet to restore your strength."
I scoffed silently. What food hadn't I tasted?
What herb hadn't I swallowed?
Despite my intelligence—perhaps even brilliance—I was, in the end, still a child in the eyes of this world… inexperienced and unaware of how vast it truly was.
Yasmin paused, then clarified:
"I know what you're thinking, young master. You've tried many things. But the world holds far more. The physician arriving today is a renowned toxin expert, and also a specialist in muscular development."
Before I could reply, there came a knock at the door. Yasmin stepped out, returning moments later with a food cart. She placed the tray before me and left in silence, not wishing to disturb my meal.
By noon, I was—as usual—either reading or playing chess. But today, my thoughts were interrupted by Grandfather Caesar entering the room, accompanied by a stranger with an unusual hairstyle, a sword at his hip, and dressed in traditional eastern robes like a warrior-monk from an ancient legend.
My concentration shattered.
I couldn't focus on the game. His clothing was far too strange.
Not even Yasmin, her mother, or my grandparents wore anything remotely like it. Perhaps people outside the palace did—but who was I to judge?
I pulled myself together and spoke with all the politeness I could gather—like a rare creature meeting the one guest allowed to see it:
"I offer greetings to our esteemed guest from the East. It's an honor to meet you on this fine day. May I know your name, sir? I am called Sartor Tlacohuti."
The man's stern expression melted like snow in spring, and he burst into laughter.
All the grandeur built by his robes and mysterious aura crumbled in an instant.
When he finally caught his breath, he said:
"Your name is Sartor, huh? You may call me Tian. I'll be your instructor from today onward. Though I specialize in swordsmanship, I'm versed in all forms of combat. You'll choose the weapon you prefer. But first… we need to build a body worth training. Drink this."
He tossed me an old bamboo flask. I'd seen something like it in a book—renowned for preserving medicine and rare spirits. I stared at it suspiciously.
Tian saw the hesitation in my eyes and snapped:
"You ignorant boy! What you hold is a sacred brew passed down through generations of my family!"
I turned to my grandfather, silently seeking confirmation…
And somewhere deep inside, I felt the air shift.
I didn't yet know it, but meeting Tian would mark the end of one life… and the beginning of another.