The One and Only Sami Chapter 30

“Truly…”

Every single time. Always.

That man—as if possessed by some sudden sorcery—constantly pops up out of nowhere and hurls him into the most ridiculous situations. No, he dives in right alongside him. He tangles Sami’s heart into a complete mess and then vanishes just as quickly.

Every single time! Always!

Sami ran so fast that his breath felt trapped in the back of his throat. He knew that as soon as he reached his Master, he’d have to clean and tidy his shoes again. But for this moment, he ran without a single worry. His face was flushed crimson from the exertion.

Even as he slowed his pace upon spotting Antar near the fountain, the rosy glow refused to leave his cheeks.

The heat wouldn’t subside.

‘He’s so strange.’

Razard was a truly bizarre man.

Every single time. Always.

This encounter—one that some might call destiny—was something the twenty-year-old servant didn’t yet know how to put into words.

He just thought…

‘He’s really strange.’

Sami heaved his shoulders, trying to catch his breath. Reflected in the ripples of the fountain, the servant’s eyes sparkled with a distinct light, though he likely didn’t realize it himself.

Even as his breathing steadied, his heart continued to thrum. Was it from the running, or…

‘Next time I see him, I’m definitely not going to be surprised.’

He couldn’t actually guarantee that. Razard was the type of man who simply barged into one’s life.

Still, he resolved not to look so foolish in front of him again. What he failed to realize, however, was a simple truth.

Sami was already waiting for the “next time.” He was looking forward to seeing him again.

Then again, it couldn’t be helped. Razard always approached like a magic trick, showing Sami things that weren’t contained in even the grandest tales of a thousand and one nights.

He made Sami feel like more than just a simple servant—he made him feel like the protagonist of a magical story.

Sami didn’t know how to stop himself from anticipating a man like that.

“Sami, we need to get you cooled down first.”

Antar’s conversation seemed to have ended just as the fireworks finished; it didn’t look like he’d been waiting long. He used a clean cloth to wipe the face of the panting, apologetic Sami.

“Did you enjoy the sights?”

“Oh, well… yes, sir.”

Antar found it a bit odd that Sami hesitated instead of answering immediately, but seeing the flushed face and sparkling eyes, he felt relieved that the boy seemed much more relaxed than before.

“We need to prepare to see the Harut now. From the moment we step onto that carpet, you must be silent. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sami straightened his clothes with precision and gave a nervous little cough.

Nobles began to gather one by one, filing into the palace to take their places. Sami and Antar did the same. Antar took a sprig of jasmine from a flower girl standing by the carpet and lightly tapped it against various spots on Sami’s body.

Every time the white petals brushed his skin, a soft fragrance wafted out. Antar rubbed his own sprig against his collar before letting the flowers float in a massive water basin nearby.

As he took his place in the section reserved for Scribe Salif, Sami took his position behind his Master, clutching the box tightly.

“It’s about to begin.”

Antar turned his head. His gaze landed on a low dais built of gold. It was a seat prepared with purple cushions and draped in fine silk, yet it remained empty.

Boom. A drum rolled.

Suddenly, the space where everyone had been laughing and chatting was occupied only by beautiful dancers, leopards and lions with coats that shone with luxurious health, and performing acrobats.

The invited guests lined up below the dais. Antar and Sami naturally took their places, kneeling in the seventh spot in line. It was time to bow their heads and stare at the floor.

The drum rolled again. Boom.

“For the Ruler, the Harut.”

“For the Ruler, the Harut.”

Everyone bowed their heads, chanting the glory of their leader in unison. Kneeling behind Antar, Sami mumbled along.

When the drums finally ceased, even the air—once hot with festivities—seemed to freeze. Everything went silent. It was likely only a fleeting moment, but that time spent bowing and waiting felt as long as the stretch between dawn and dusk.

From the far end, he heard the sound of slow, steady footsteps. Above Sami’s head, he heard the low, guttural purr of a beast. In his lowered field of vision, the paws of a black leopard and a white lion passed by. Sami inhaled sharply.

Sami could only see the heels of the feet walking toward the dais. The feet of the Ruler, the Harut. Until a moment ago, his only thought had been to avoid making a mistake that would shame his Master, but the realization that the most radiant being in the land was passing right in front of him made his heart pound against his ribs.

The smooth heels were a healthy, sun-kissed bronze. Sami carefully took in the sight of the thick, prominent tendons and the sturdy-looking ankles. The stride was neither hurried nor heavy; it was like that of a well-fed predator.

The feet grew distant. A moment of waiting, and then.

“Rise.”

It was the voice of a man far younger than he had imagined. The short command was infused with the peculiar boredom of one who occupies a seat of absolute power.

Had Sami been listening more closely, he surely would have felt a sense of déjà vu. But in his huddled, trembling state, the voice could have been whispered directly into his ear and it wouldn’t have mattered.

At the Harut’s command, Antar rose from his knees. As the servant, Sami remained kneeling, head down, clutching the box. He didn’t dare look up at the Harut’s face, only stealing glances at the black leopard and white lion guarding the throne, exhaling a soft, careful breath.

“I find little joy in such formalities, so let us receive the gifts and end this. Is the night not too short to enjoy a banquet that only comes once in a blue moon?”

The tone was arrogant, but strangely, it didn’t feel offensive. As the tension in his shoulders eased slightly, Sami tilted his head.

That voice… I’ve heard it somewhere before…?

As the lion growled, the Harut’s hand reached out to scratch its chin and mane. With a flick of his left hand toward the side, a eunuch standing near the dais spoke up.

“First, Grand Vizier Kandas.”

“Kandas presents his offering to the Ruler, the Harut.”

Items that Sami had never even heard of were brought forth one after another. Silks dyed in bizarre colors, jewels the size of a fist, and strange foods and animals rarely seen in the land of deserts and oases were presented before the Harut.

After the sixth presentation, it was finally the seventh.

“Seventh, Chief Scribe Salif.”

“Sami.”

“Y-yes, sir.”

As Antar bowed and stepped toward the dais, Sami followed right behind him, holding the box with both hands.

It was strange.

He hadn’t been this nervous even when flying through the air on a carpet. His heart beat louder and louder; by the time he stood properly behind Antar, his entire body felt like one giant, pulsing heart.

“Antar, son of Salif, presents this offering to the Ruler, the Harut.”

“…Salif.”

The Harut, who had been resting his chin on the armrest, shifted his posture. Sami could still only see his feet, but he could tell by the way the silk rippled and the angle of the ruler’s instep. The Harut had leaned closer to them.

“Ah, the Scribe…”

The Harut spoke with a voice that carried a trace of an amused smile.

“I heard he has been suffering from a deep lung ailment lately.”

“The medicine provided by the Harut has served him well. He has improved much and moves more freely than before. May your glory remain with Salif, Sire.”

“Is that so? My glory…”

The ruler’s voice held a clear, pleasant chuckle. Antar remained humble, showing no sign of agitation, and gave Sami a quiet look.

Unfortunately, Sami was trembling uncontrollably. He had been fine until a moment ago, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why he was falling apart.

Was he scared of the beasts? Overwhelmed by the atmosphere? Or…

An inexplicable anxiety kept pulling at his ankles, pressing on his jaw, and tugging at his wrists.

His entire body was turning stiff, but he took several deep breaths to hide it. Hesitantly, Sami undid the latch on the silk-lined box.

Inside the box, engraved with patterns praising the Harut, a gem with a clear luster bathed the silk lining in a soft light.

It was a tribute the House of Salif had spent a long time preparing with a merchant. It was a single rounded gem surrounded by various unpolished stones; even a novice like Sami couldn’t take his eyes off its pure radiance.

Of course, it couldn’t compare to the wicked light of a Marut. But to use the words of a certain Marut owner, it was certainly one of the most valuable among those “gems that just roll around and sparkle on a noble’s silk.”

“Bring it closer so I may see.”

The servant holding the box swallowed a quiet breath. At his Master’s command, the servant hesitantly stepped toward the dais.

“…Sami.”

The Ruler spoke his name. The name of a small, insignificant servant, spoken with perfect clarity.