[The Eshkaran Empire — Imperial City — Afternoon — Continuation]
The streets of Eshkaran could hardly believe what they had just witnessed.
It was the kind of phenomenon that happened once in a lifetime, something that would surely be recorded in the annals of the empire, perhaps even written in gold ink upon ancient tablets for generations to come.
The mighty Azram Vaerum Veyrath had just agreed to become the father of a random beggar child.
A beggar, a four-year-old beggar.
This was the kind of story grandmothers would whisper to their grandchildren at night, long after the lamps had been extinguished.
’Once, in the golden streets of Eshkaran, the feared Azram adopted a beggar girl...’
Ravian’s face had gone pale; a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead as he stared at the scene before him.
"What is happening?"
Beside him stood the captain of House Veyrath’s guard, Captain Kharzen, whose normally composed expression had become just as bewildered.
"I think we are dreaming, Sir Ravian."
Ravian swallowed.
’Looking at the scene in front of me... it definitely feels like a dream.’
How had the Azram decided to accept this child as his daughter? What exactly was his master thinking?
Meanwhile, the newly declared father and daughter continued staring at one another; neither lowered their gaze, and neither seemed willing to surrender. It was almost as though they were engaged in a silent stare-me-to-death competition in the middle of the imperial street.
Finally, Vaerum spoke.
"So... what is your name?"
The little girl answered with complete confidence.
"I don’t have a name, but—" She pointed toward the old man she had bitten. "...that stinky old man gave me a name...Seyra."
Vaerum’s silver eyes remained upon her as he repeated the name quietly. "Seyra...as in the power of the Seven United Ones."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Such a powerful name."
Seyra immediately folded her arms proudly. "Of course, a beautiful person like me needs a powerful name."
Ravian’s expression twitched. Vaerum stepped closer to the little girl, his tall figure casting a shadow over her tiny frame, his silver eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.
"You must not realize whose daughter you have become, but... now it is too late because you’re now Seyra Vaerum Veyrath."
The crowd gasped...again.
The sound swept through the street like a sudden thunderclap. Vaerum reached down and caught the back of Seyra’s torn clothing.
Then he lifted her...just like that. Her little feet dangled helplessly above the ground. Seyra blinked; she looked down at her feet and then turned her head toward Vaerum.
"Hey... how can you hold a child like this? Don’t you have basic knowledge of how to hold a child?"
Vaerum stepped toward the carriage, his expression remaining cold and unreadable. "This is how we hold muddy and stinky things."
Seyra’s eyes widened as she struggled in his grip. "How dare you call me muddy and stinky! Don’t forget, I am your daughter now!"
Vaerum continued toward the carriage without changing his expression. Ravian and the surrounding knights could only stare in disbelief.
Then—
THUD!
The carriage door closed, and Ravian’s eyes widened. "Azram... what—hold on a sec—"
Too late.
The carriage was already sealed.
Ravian stood frozen before the closed door, staring at it as though it had personally betrayed everything he believed about his master.
His mouth opened, and then he muttered, as his eyes remained fixed upon the carriage. "Why...why did he give her his name? What in the world are you thinking, Azram?"
Around him, the imperial knights remained silent.
The merchants remained silent; the pedestrians remained silent. No one seemed capable of processing what had just happened.
The mighty Azram Vaerum Veyrath had walked through the streets of the imperial capital as the feared Silent Tempest.
And now...he had left the street with a four-year-old beggar girl hanging from the back of his clothes.
Not only had he accepted her, but he had also given her his name.
Seyra Vaerum Veyrath.
And from that moment onwards, the question would spread through the Eshkaran Empire like wildfire:
Why had the Azram chosen her?
But there was another question no one seemed to think much about.
Who was Seyra? And where had she come from?
The people of Eshkaran had no answer, but Seyra certainly did. After all, before becoming a four-year-old beggar in the Eshkaran Empire, Seyra had been something completely different.
She had been a perfectly ordinary office-going woman in the year 2026, somehow surviving the brutal, soul-crushing world of capitalism one unpaid extra hour at a time.
She worked, she complained, she drank too much coffee, and, most importantly, she read a lot. Mostly BL novels. It had been one of the few things that made surviving her exhausting modern life bearable.
Unfortunately, on the day everything ended, Seyra wasn’t thinking about novels. Because today her boss had made her work an extra hour, without extra pay.
An unforgivable crime.
Seyra drove home with both hands gripping the steering wheel, her face twisted with pure betrayal.
"That piece of shit...I should bury him beneath the eel ground." Her jaw clenched. "How dare he make me work an extra hour without extra payment? I curse that piece of shit. May he wake up tomorrow morning and discover that every single one of his socks has mysteriously become damp, and may every pair of shoes he owns develop exactly one tiny pebble inside."
She wasn’t finished; she drove the car at speed, cursing deeper, "I hope every mosquito in his neighborhood develops a personal vendetta against him."
She suddenly slapped the steering wheel, huffing loudly.
"And may he step on a Lego every time he successfully finishes an important task! I curse that piece of shit...to suffer the inconvenience of a thousand tiny problems every day. May he poop while stepping on a cactus with his bare feet."
She looked deeply satisfied.
"I pray he never poops in his life—"
HONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNK!!!
Seyra’s eyes widened and...
THUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!
And just like that, Seyra died mid-curse. She didn’t even get to finish; her last words remained suspended somewhere between "I pray he never poops—" and whatever horrifying punishment she had planned next.
Which, if one were being honest, was probably the most Seyra way possible to die. Unfortunately for her—
Death was only the beginning.