Sepehr's room was right across the hall from Ambrose's. He likely went forward because of the protocols.
The tense atmosphere shifted as soon as he reached the door. Anxiety clouded Sepehr's face for a moment, instinctively tightening his collar. It was contradictory to the bright expressions on the faces of the boy and girl waiting at the door. Considering their outfits, they were students of the academy.
"Lord Sepehr." They both bowed sixty degrees, voice filled with respect that didn't match with the rest of the evening.
Sepehr paused, his gaze softening. "What are you two doing here this late?"
"We heard you will be leaving in the morning. So we came to greet you." The boy spoke up.
"We received permission," The girl added.
"Still, you shouldn't be wandering at this hour," Sepehr's voice carried a faint reprimand. "Anyhow, are you two doing well?"
"Yes, sir!" They both announced in unison.
"Do not call me 'sir'," Sepehr sighed as though he'd grown tired of saying the same thing.
"But lord Sepehr, you don't look very well," the girl remarked, "I heard you fell ill recently. Are you alright?" Concern was clear in her voice.
"I am alright, Inara," Sepehr replied with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a little tired. I will be fine after a good night's rest."
Zen's ears perked up.
"His highness is probably overworking you. He doesn't give you the time to breathe in peace, does he?" The enthusiastic boy asked in an accusatory tone. "He has no consideration. I still do not understand why you took this kind of job. You had better options."
"Jace, mind your words," Inara warned, "It is his highness you're talking about."
Sepehr didn't scold him; instead smiled ever so slightly. "Then why did you do it, Jace?" He asked in reply. "I wouldn't deny that it is a tiring job. You should quit while you can."
"It is not the same thing," Jace muttered, "Who else will help you if not us?"
Sepehr's gaze softened further, the faintest hint of warmth showing on his otherwise stoic face. For a moment, Zen could see the bond between them, the quiet trust forged through the years. "I'll be looking forward to your help in the future, then," Sepehr said in a gentler tone, but then it shifted, his expression firming. "Go back now, it's past curfew."
The two of them hesitated, glancing at each other before nodding. "We hope to meet again soon. Good night, Lord Sepehr," they said, bowing again before retreating down the hall, leaving Zen in a sea of questions.
It was a short exchange, barely consisting of a few minutes. But it raised more questions in Zen's mind than the whole evening combined.
The door closed softly behind Sepehr as he entered the room. For a few minutes, he stood there with his back facing the door, as though the weight of the night was finally catching up to him.
The candles in the room were almost completely melted, but he didn't bother calling for the servants.
Zen observed him, worried, until an image was played in his mind. For the first time, he got a glimpse of Sepehr's memory. He could see it as if it were VR.
The king's advisor. A position of immense respect and even greater risk. Unlike what the conversation with Ambrose suggested, it wasn't about loyalty to the crown, but to the king himself—his will, his whims, his sins. The loyalty demanded was absolute, unwavering, and devoid of morality. The advisor was to put his life on the line for the one they served. The role demanded far more than it gave in return.
Because of that, the position had remained empty for the past two hundred years because there were no suitable candidates.
And in the memory, Sepehr was explaining as much to younger Inara and Jace, urging them to abandon their ambitions to be his assistants, his aide.
In return, he was asked another question. "Why do you do it then?" Sepehr hadn't answered. Not then, not now.
The nineteen-something-year-old Sepehr taught the two since they turned nine. Bonds created in childhood were one of the strongest; no wonder they took the chance anyway. Sepehr still urged them to take another path and was asked the same questions in return.
But the question was left unanswered to this day.
The memory was from before he officially accepted his position. Before he denied high high-ranking position at the academy, and requests from other kingdoms, which held no threat to his safety. 'Better option' was an understatement.
But that wasn't what confused Zen the most.
Inara and Jace. Zen was quite familiar with the names. The names of the protagonists in 'Debt of Blood.' If there was an antagonist, there had to be protagonists too, right?
If half of 'Debt of Blood' was about Ambrose, the other half was about them and their constant attempts to stop the massacres, which always failed. That's all.
But was it that simple?
Many factors led up to a moment, be it in real life or a story. It was like a chain reaction of incidents. Sepehr Vale was a catalyst.
The tyrant's advisor. The figure whom the protagonists were set to serve.
Sepehr was a thread connecting the two sides of 'Debt of Blood'.
But yet, he wasn't a part of the story Zen knew. Not even a single passing mention in nearly two hundred chapters.
How could someone so central simply not exist in the narrative? Even if he were to die, his absence from the story defied logic.
Sepehr moved then, gradually walking towards the mirror.
He stood there silently for what felt like an eternity before removing the decorative accessories piece by piece, down to each brooch, intricate clasps, and every fragment of finery, leaving only the earring untouched.
His hand instinctively moved to his neck, fingers tracing over the faint yet hard-to-miss marks visible under the fabric of this shirt. He breathed in slowly before turning away from the mirror. Without any wasted movement, he turned and lay down, his frame shrouded in shadows.
Zen felt a bit uneasy. He didn't understand the connection between the two. No matter which direction he chose to send his thoughts to, things looked complex regardless.
But there was nothing for him to do. So he drifted to a corner where moonlight seeped in.
To think this was a different story was the easiest. But for some reason, Zen couldn't bring himself to believe it. Not yet. It was too soon to reach that conclusion, after all, this was still at least three years before the first act of 'Debt of Blood'.
There were a lot of missing pieces, and too many unanswered questions, but now was not the time to look for them. The answers would come, but not tonight.
For now, Zen put aside these thoughts just as Sepehr did with his accessories, surrendering to the calm of the night, for one last time.