For a few seconds, I stared ahead, trying to accept the reality. Time really is a bastard. It takes everything slowly, without you being able to stop it.
Then I glanced at Selim.
“Oh, by the way. Don’t call me ‘Chief.’ You’re my nephew. Just relax.”
“I can’t. I’m working,” he replied flatly.
“We’re free now. Not in the middle of a convoy or an escort mission.”
“Alright, alright… fine, Uncle,” he said quickly this time, without resistance.
I paused. His attitude—easily giving up, then suddenly changing tone—reminded me of his late father. Two faces that were the same: one so friendly, easy to get along with anywhere; the other flat, cold, and unpredictable.
Makes sense, I thought. That’s part of their profession. His father had also been a professional mercenary.
I chuckled.
“You really are just like your father, Selim.”
Selim just nodded.
“How’s your mother? I heard Soraya has been unwell.”
“My mother is much better now, thanks to your help, Uncle,” he replied respectfully.
I exhaled in relief.
“Good to hear.”
I tilted my head toward the sky; the sun was beginning to lean west. Orange light crept along the edge of the clouds.
“Ah… walks like this aren’t so bad after all,” I said, taking a deep breath.
I chuckled softly, then looked at the sky.
“That girl reminded me of my granddaughter… Eh, I haven’t bought her a present yet.”
I wondered what I could give… I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized—I rarely gave gifts to my own child back then.
My smile gradually faded into bitterness.
I wasn’t a good father back then. Too busy chasing wealth, chasing things that… never truly satisfied me.
I turned to Selim, still walking beside me.
“Hey, Selim. What do you think would be a good gift for my granddaughter?”
Selim rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment.
“Hmm… how about a Flabby Bear?”
“Flabby Bear?” I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“It’s a toy that’s trending in Aetheris right now,” Selim replied casually. “A big teddy bear—lots of girls in the kingdom love it.”
I frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it, even though I’ve been trading for so long…”
Selim smiled wryly.
“It’s only recently become popular. Besides, you’re no longer managing the family’s entire trading business, right?”
I nodded slowly.
“That’s true… I handed most of the responsibilities over to my son a long time ago.”
Well… times have indeed changed.
I took a light breath and smiled faintly.
“All right. Let’s find that bear.”
As we walked through the market again, my eyes caught a large crowd around a young merchant. His face… I recognized. The man who had helped the child dying in the desert earlier.
I leaned slightly closer.
“Selim,” I whispered. “Do you know his name?”
“Oh… His name’s Doria,” he muttered, scratching his head. “Why? Do you want to approach him?”
I shook my head slowly.
“It’s not polite to disturb a merchant who’s busy serving his customers.”
Selim chuckled softly.
“True enough.”
“Never mind, let’s find an inn first,” I said, my steps continuing along the dusty streets, accompanied by the market’s clamor and the eternal song of the hot Azbirut wind.
---
[ PoV Evran ]
I slowly opened my eyes. Soft light filtered through the gaps in the window curtains, making my tired eyes sting slightly. Not the gray sky I usually saw from inside the carriage. Not the smell of dust and dry wind that usually accompanied me. What I heard instead was the bustling sound of the market—shouts of merchants, the creak of cart wheels, and children's laughter mingled with the aroma of roasted meat and spices.
This place… was unfamiliar.
The bed beneath me felt cleaner and softer than the hard ground or the rickety wooden benches I was used to. The wooden ceiling above, walls with simple carvings, and a small window wide open to the busy market outside. I blinked slowly, trying to make sense of where I was.
“Kreeekk…”
The sound of a sliding wooden door broke my reverie.
A woman entered with a warm smile on her face. Her hair was neatly tied at the back, and a simple yet clean cream-colored nurse uniform covered her slender figure down to her ankles.
“Oh… you’re awake, child?” Her voice was gentle, soothing, like a soft caress amid the chaos in my mind.
I only nodded faintly.
“You nearly lost your life if your father hadn’t acted so quickly. You should thank him later, okay,” she continued, pouring warm water into a jug.
I stayed silent. The word ‘father’ hit me like a hammer to the head. He wasn’t my father. But I was too lazy to correct her. Besides, what for? He wouldn’t really care.
The nurse continued talking without pause.
“Did you know? As soon as you fainted, your father immediately replaced your dirty clothes. We, the nurses here, were touched. He could have waited for us, but he did it himself,” she said, her voice filled with admiration.
I just listened quietly. Her words flowed relentlessly, too fast, too many. I wanted to cover my ears, but it felt rude. I thought this conversation would be brief, but apparently, it had turned into a long lecture without pause.
“You’re lucky to have a father like him,” she said, placing a bowl of warm porridge and some tablets on the small table beside my bed. “Finish this, then take your medicine. You’ll recover quickly.” She gave a thumbs-up with a sweet smile before leaving.
Finally, she was gone.
“Kreeekk…”
The door creaked again. This time, heavy footsteps entered the room.
I recognized him. Doria.
His face was weary, sweat still dampened his temples, his clothes worn and dusty. He glanced at me briefly, then followed the departing nurse with his eyes. The nurse patted his shoulder softly.
“Don’t worry, your child is fine. A GREAT FATHER.”
I could see Doria’s face tense immediately. His gaze shifted to me, brows raised in confusion.
“Kreeekk…”
The door closed.
Silence filled the room. Doria walked toward me, his expression a mix of surprise, fatigue, and… disgust. Yes, that same expression. Just like the first time I met him.
“What did she just say to you?” he asked bluntly.
“I… don’t know,” I replied softly, trying not to look directly at him.
“Huh… finally, you can speak,” he said, this time with a lighter tone. As if the tension weighing on his shoulders had loosened a bit.
He moved closer, sitting on a wooden chair near my bed. “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves, have we?” he asked.
I remained silent, then nodded slightly.
“All right, introduce yourself first,” he said, firm but not threatening.
I swallowed and tried to arrange my words.
“My name… is Evran.”
He looked at me intently. “And..., where are you from?”
I hesitated. “I… don’t know.” A small lie slipped out. I wasn’t ready to let anyone know.
Doria exhaled, looking puzzled, but he didn’t force me. “All right… then I’ll assume you have lost your memory,” he said quietly. “I’m Doria, a merchant from Taniram.”
He looked at me seriously. “Repeat it. What’s my name?”
“Doria,” I answered quickly.
“And where I'm from?”
“Taniram.”
Doria nodded, satisfied. As if he wanted to make sure I wasn’t suffering from a concussion or memory loss.
“Have you eaten yet?”
I glanced at the small table beside the bed, pointing to the bowl of porridge and medicine the nurse had just brought.
Doria exhaled in relief, then stood.
“Finish it. And take your medicine. I’ve already paid for your treatment, so don’t waste it.” His tone was firm but warm.
I could only nod.
“I’m leaving now. Need to bathe. Smell awful after work,” he said, smirking slightly before heading toward the door.
“Kreeekk…”
The door closed.
I was alone again. The bustling market sounds could still be heard clearly through the open window. The smell of smoke from grills, children’s laughter, and merchants’ shouts offering their wares blended together.
I stared at the bowl of porridge on the table, then at the window, and back at the ceiling of this room. I was still unsure of what I should do.
---
Clinic on the outskirts of Azbirut
Morning arrived with a gloomy face. The sky above Azbirut was filled with heavy gray clouds, hanging as if holding back rain that refused to fall. The morning wind slipped through gaps in windows left ajar, carrying a chill and the scent of cold sand swept by the night air.
In a narrow, pale-colored room at the far end of the clinic, a young boy sat on a wooden bed. His body was small and thin, his left arm wrapped in bandages. His face was pale, eyes vacant, staring out the window. Outside, faintly, the sounds of the market began to stir—merchants shouting, metal clashing against metal, and the aroma of roasted meat mingled with spices carried by the wind.
At the side of the bed, a young nurse carefully cleaned Evran’s wounds. The cold liquid medicine touched his skin, making him grit his teeth.
“Ouch…” Evran whispered softly, barely audible.
“Hold still… almost done,” the nurse replied in a gentle yet firm voice. Her hands moved skillfully, cleaning the drying wounds, though the sting still lingered.
Evran barely reacted. His eyes stayed fixed outside the window.
“Hey… don’t move too much. Especially that hand, dear. You might tear it again,” the nurse warned, her tone tinged with concern.
Evran only nodded slightly. He was too tired to argue, too unfamiliar with this place.
Strangely, the nurse thought. Children his age usually talked more… were more cheerful. But he… was too quiet. Too calm.
The wind blew again. The thin curtain at the window flapped wildly, dancing in the air as if imitating the invisible spirits of the desert.
“Whooshhh…”
“The wind is getting stronger…” the nurse murmured, quickly standing to close the window. She ensured the latch was secure, then returned to the bedside.
“Oh, by the way, I haven’t asked yet. What’s your name, child?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.
“…Evran,” the boy replied flatly, without looking.
“Evran… that’s a nice name,” she said with a smile. “I’m Rina. If anything happens, just call me, okay? And the one yesterday was Erna.”
Evran only gave a small nod. Once Rina left, he started eating the food placed on the small table beside his bed. He had no appetite, but his body was too weak to refuse. He swallowed the medicine tablets slowly, one by one.
As the last cup touched his lips, a soft knocking sounded at the door.
Tok… tok… tok.
“I’d like to come in.”
The door creaked open. Rina returned, this time with two strangers.
The first, an elderly man exuding authority, with long white hair and a dark, sweeping robe brushing the floor. His gaze was sharp, yet within its gentleness lay a strength reserved for those who had weathered many storms in life. Behind him stood a young armed man, his eyes vigilant.
“Please,” Rina said, allowing them entry.
“Thank you for guiding us here,” the old man said politely.
“No problem. I’ll leave you now.” Rina bowed lightly before leaving.
Silence filled the room again, broken only by the wind whistling outside the window.
The old man walked slowly, sitting in the chair Rina had used. He looked at Evran with attentive eyes, as if assessing something unseen.
“How are you, child? Feeling better?”
Evran glanced at him briefly. Who was this grandfather? he thought. But he replied softly, “I’m fine… though I’ll have to stay here a few more days.”
“I see…” The old man nodded. “Has the young man told you about us?”
Evran shook his head. Him? Doria, perhaps… he thought. “No.”
“Then allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gasper,” he said with a slight smile. “And this is Selim.”
Selim gave a small nod, silently observing.
“And your name, child?”
“…Evran.”
Gasper tried to ease the atmosphere.
“Is the room comfortable?”
“Comfortable.”
“Good… Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
Though friendly, the conversation felt stiff. The air grew heavier, tension creeping silently between them.
“Do you remember what happened before you…?” Gasper asked suddenly.
Evran shook his head. “I don’t remember.”
“How about your home? Do you recall its name?”
Evran lowered his head, voice flat. “Don’t remember.”
Selim, standing at the corner of the room, could clearly see the lie.
Gasper exhaled softly.
“Looks like you’ve lost your memory, huh?” he murmured, as if giving up. “Well… never mind.”
He gazed at Evran more deeply, his eyes softening with pity. “You remind me of my granddaughter. She is the same age as you.”
Gasper laced his fingers in his lap, his voice heavy. “You’re still young, child… but you’ve already lost your parents, wandering the desert alone. That’s no fate fit for someone like you. Sometimes… fate is cruel.”
Evran just lowered his head. The man’s words felt like a knife slowly cutting into his heart—because somehow, Gasper sounded as if he truly understood. Yet Evran said nothing.
Gasper gave a small smile, then gently patted Evran’s head. “Get well soon, okay.” He rose slowly.
“We’ll be leaving now.”
Selim bowed slightly before following Gasper out. The door closed softly, leaving Evran alone in the room. The wind from the window brushed against the thin curtain again, producing a whisper like the footsteps of desert spirits.
Evran’s days were spent sleeping until noon, waking only to eat, take medicine, and watch the world move past the window. Only in the late afternoon did a man named Doria arrive—a merchant from Taniram, now the only person he could talk to.
Though rarely speaking much, Doria always brought news from the market, light stories, or simply sat quietly. His presence gradually became the only connection Evran had with the outside world.
Such was Evran’s routine while sick, sandwiched between time and memories past.
---
[ PoV Evran ]
A few days had passed since I first opened my eyes in this place. The small clinic on the outskirts of Azbirut had become familiar. Every morning, the scent of medicine mingled with the desert wind slipping through the gaps in the windows. But today… the light that entered was different. Warm. It crept gently through the curtains, touching the pale floor of the ward.
“Ahh… finally,” I murmured softly.
Carefully, I rose from the bed. My body was still weak, my joints stiff, as if just freed from the grip of a long stretch of time. My hands brushed the mattress for support. These small legs tried to stand upright, wobbling slightly. I stepped slowly, walking around the room.
In the corner, Sister Rina stood. Her face was panicked, but she tried to hide her worry behind a thin smile.
“Careful… your wounds aren’t fully healed yet. Take it slow,” she said gently.
I just nodded, then stepped toward the window. When I drew back the curtain, the world outside seemed to welcome me with a mixture of familiarity and strangeness. The street was crowded. Merchants shouted, colorful fabrics hung from stalls, and the smell of warm food floated in the air.
I could see an old man yelling about his spices, a young woman carrying a basket of bright fruits, and a group of children running while flying paper kites. Everything… was alive.
“Looks like our little one has finally woken up,” a deep voice said from behind.
I turned. Doria stood at the doorway, wearing his proud, worn coat, his messy hair blown by the wind, but his wide smile remained the same as the last time I saw it.
“Seems like it,” I replied with a smile.
“How about we go explore the market? Like I promised yesterday,” he suggested, eyes shining with excitement.
My heartbeat quickened. Finally…
As we prepared to leave, Sister Rina crossed her arms and glared at Doria.
“Be careful on the way…” she said, then whispered to him with a half-threatening tone, “Take care of that child properly, Uncle Doria.”
“Okay, okay… I know,” Doria chuckled, patting my shoulder. “Alright then, let’s go, kid!”
I followed him out of the clinic. Once outside, the world seemed to explode in color, sound, and scent.
Azbirut Market—the place I had only ever seen from the window—stretched before me. The dirt streets were crowded with footprints and wagon wheels. Simple stalls lined up tightly, covered with tattered cloth tied with ropes. There, a spice vendor arranged bags of deep red, bright yellow, and orange powders. The scent of cinnamon and cumin rose from his stall.
Next to him, a middle-aged woman offered leather crafts—wallets, belts, and small weapon sheaths. Children ran, shouted, and teased one another. The occasional blast of a small trumpet sold by a street vendor cut through the market’s cacophony.
I was captivated…
But after a few minutes of walking, my body began to tremble. My breathing grew heavy, and my knees felt weak.
“Ughh…” I groaned, gripping my knees.
“What’s wrong? Can’t manage?” Doria asked quickly, squinting at me.
I nodded slightly.
“Alright, come here,” he said without hesitation. In an instant, he bent down, picked me up, and carried me on his shoulder like a father holding his child.
I was surprised, but I can't protest. Strangely… I felt something familiar… like back when my father was still around.
“Hmm, I smell something delicious… what’s that?” Doria looked up.
He pointed at a simple stall selling skewered roasted meat. Thin wisps of smoke rose from the grill, and meat glazed with local spices glistened in the melting oil.
We sat on the edge of the market street after a long day of wandering. Our legs ached, my stomach was full of the food lingering on my tongue, and my breathing rose and fell from exhaustion.
In front of us, food stalls were tightly lined up. The colorful canvas tents swayed in the wind, smoke from the grilled meat mixing with the sweet aroma of honeyed treats. The merchants’ voices still called out, competing for attention.
“What should we try next?” Doria asked, scanning the stalls in front of us.
I was busy chewing a piece of spiced bread, so I only nodded slowly.
Suddenly, another voice called from the crowd.
“Hey, Doria. How’s it going?”
I looked up. A tall man, muscular, wearing a guard’s uniform with a light armor vest and a gray scarf around his neck, was walking toward us. His eagle-like eyes narrowed when he saw us.
“Selim? What are you doing here? Patrolling?” Doria asked, half surprised.
Selim smirked casually, leaning one hand on his waist. “Well, you could say that. Though honestly, just walking around, getting some fresh air.” His gaze then fell on me, eyes narrowing in scrutiny.
“Like a dying kid resurrected from the grave,” he muttered half-jokingly.
I just stared at him, still chewing.
Doria let out a short sigh. “Actually, he should still be resting at the clinic for a few more days,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“Oh really?” Selim turned to him. “By the way, You’re not working?”
Doria chuckled softly. “Sometimes you gotta take a break, especially to accompany this kid, right?”
“Unusual. Normally, when it comes to money, someone like you wouldn’t stop working. Maybe even if you were dying, you’d still keep at it.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Selim,” Doria replied, half-annoyed, but the smile never fully left his face.
Selim raised his hand and waved at me.
“Alright, I’ll continue patrolling now, Dario. Don’t be naughty with your father, kid.”
Doria snorted quietly. “Bastard…” he muttered under his breath, cursing silently.
The guard walked away. His figure vanished into the market crowd—light on his feet, almost silent.
Doria stared blankly at where he had disappeared, confused and slightly annoyed.
How could he vanish so quickly? He huffed.
“Huh…”
Then Doria stood, stretching his shoulders and aching back. “Alright, let’s continue exploring the market,” he said, trying to shake off his frustration.
I nodded, this time with more enthusiasm.
We wandered again. Doria even bought me some new clothes—loose brown and cream fabrics, perfect for shielding my skin from the scorching desert sun. He also handed me a wide-brimmed fabric hat, tied under my chin. I accepted it, feeling slightly awkward.
“Keep your face from burning,” he said with a playful smile.
He also gave me a small leather pouch. “For carrying your things. When you start trading like me, a pouch like this will be handy.”
I touched the pouch, smooth to the hand, smelling faintly of wood oil.
After we’d finished exploring, we decided to return to the clinic. The sun leaned toward the west, its yellow-orange light splitting the market, making the floating dust sparkle gold.
Once at the clinic, Doria set me down gently. My legs were no longer cramped, though still weak. I could walk without excessive pain. We entered, passing the corridors smelling of medicine, and returned to my ward.
There, we sat for a while at the edge of my bed. Doria told stories about markets in other towns, strange goods he’d seen, and an old merchant who supposedly could tell the future through palm lines.
I listened, half sleepy, yet still happy.
Before leaving, Doria patted my head. “When you’re stronger, we’ll go out again. The night market here is even more exciting.”
I smiled, already looking forward to that day.
Today… even if only for a short while, felt wonderful.
The world seemed more colorful, more alive—full of sound, full of movement.
And I…
For the first time in so long,
I felt alive again.