The One and Only Sami Chapter 6

Sami swallowed hard. Terrified of dropping even a single grain of the shimmering powder, he cautiously lowered the hands that had been holding back his hair.

“You should be fine walking around outside now.”

“Thank you, Young Master…”

Antar replied with a quiet look and closed his book again. It wasn’t long before the sound of Sami’s deep, steady breathing could be heard. Antar smiled wordlessly and turned a page.

There was one month left until Harut’s banquet. Another piece of the night deepened.

⚜️

Whether Antar’s prayers actually worked or not, Sami regained his strength and was back to his energetic self within three days.

Sami’s task for the day—now that he was full of life again—was none other than an errand for oranges. He had been entrusted with a basket and told to buy plenty of oranges to make juice for a guest visiting the elder of the house.

And so, the young servant of the Salif family spent his day busily weaving through the market streets, a deep basket balanced on his head. The basket was filled to the brim with sun-ripened, yellow oranges.

“So heavy…”

The fruit seller’s son, who was the same age as him, could toss baskets like this onto his shoulders with ease, but for Sami, it was still a struggle. Even so, he hated the idea of saying he couldn’t do it—and he hated hearing it even more.

With a look of grim determination, Sami set the basket down and tightly tied the hems of his baggy trousers. He intended to pull himself together and hoist it up once more.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

It happened the moment he reached out to lift the fruit basket back onto his head.

“…Huh?”

Sami couldn’t believe his eyes. He had specifically chosen oranges that were bright yellow and perfectly ripe… but now, they were all somehow shriveled and withered away.

“What…?”

“Found you. It’s you, isn’t it?”

Sami snapped his head up. The crowd of people moving through the market blurred and turned hazy, like smoke. It was a scene that felt strangely like déjà vu.

Only one person in the distance stood out with startling clarity.

His black eye makeup was thick and damp, like the shadows inside a well. He snarled as he pulled back the veil that had been covering his face.

He was clearly a different man from the magician Sami had seen before.

While his stride was graceful and fluid like a dancer’s, the voice he spat out was sinister and hissing.

Before Sami knew it, the man was right in front of him, resting a hand on Sami’s basket. Long, purple fingernails clattered threateningly.

Sami didn’t dare meet his eyes properly. His body trembled violently. Because his gaze was fixed firmly on the ground, all Sami could see were those long fingers moving like a spider.

“Because you got in the way, I missed him. That damn insect took my treasures—my lovely Maruts—away from me.”

“…”

Marut…?

But that wasn’t what mattered right now. The man’s voice grew closer and closer until it felt like he was right against Sami’s face; he could even feel the man’s breath.

A chill ran down his spine and the back of his neck, freezing him as if he’d been coated in cold plaster. The voice whispered thinly into Sami’s ear.

“You little rat. You’ve gone and smeared gold on your forehead today, I see.”

A shudder crawled over Sami’s skin.

Even though the gold dust Antar had applied the night before had surely rubbed off while he slept, the voice recognized Sami’s gold with terrifying accuracy.

His shoulders hunched instinctively, and his body shook. Forget swallowing—he could barely even catch his breath.

“It seems someone took measures to keep me from approaching you. Your talent and courage are admirable, but do you really think I’ll just stand by?”

His vision seemed to be stained pitch black. It was because of the thick smoke the voice exhaled. The color was darker than night and murkier than poison, and Sami didn’t even dare to inhale.

His mind grew faint at the sight of an evil color he had never seen in his life. Sami was just a lowly servant who knew nothing of beautiful colors; the closest things he knew to a “pretty sky” were the cheap turquoise and polished pebbles shown to him by an old fortune-teller.

“Are you frightened by just this? I shall release vipers under your bed to bite at your neck all night long, and I’ll hide scorpions in everything you wear to pierce your skin. I’ll steal the flames of Jahannam and sear them into your eye sockets.”

This was also the first time in his life he had heard such curses.

The sheer terror felt like it had sucked all the moisture out of his body. He couldn’t even squeeze out a tear. It felt as though his breath had simply stopped.

“I—I… I didn’t do… any, anything…”

“You did nothing?”

The man’s hand suddenly gripped the basket.

Perhaps because of the gold, he didn’t reach for Sami directly, but he gripped the basket so hard that his nails left deep gouges in the sturdy palm-frond weave. To Sami, the sound of the nails clawing the basket felt like they were tearing at his own throat.

“You’re the one who sprinkled frankincense and oil on that bastard! The scents you smeared on him irritated my Jinni’s nose. You tormented them so they couldn’t smell him! I had him right there, and you ruined it!”

As the wrathful voice grew louder, the blackened, withered oranges began to rot even faster. They shriveled until you couldn’t even tell they had once been oranges.

“H-Hieek…!”

Sami hurriedly pulled his hands away from the basket.

The magician with the purple nails couldn’t touch Sami, but he took advantage of Sami’s trembling to seize the young servant with his gaze.

“Your eyes are yellow. A beloved color in this world. …Yes, it would be a bit of a waste to just play with you until you die. Perhaps I’ll make you my slave.”

“…!”

“Do not close your eyes.”

Those words became a spell, and Sami’s eyelids froze open.

Sami tried desperately to at least lower his head. As he managed to shift his gaze slightly, he saw the man’s lips. The beautiful, pomegranate-colored lips moved softly, like a mirage.

No.

Sami tried to shake off his gaze, clinging to his fading consciousness.

“You must look at me. Yes, there’s a good boy.”

The magician whispered with a voice that slithered like a snake, stroking the tip of Sami’s chin. The spell binding his body continued without end. Like a well-trained dog, Sami lifted his head as the man tickled the underside of his jaw.

“Child, what is your name?”

“…”

“Hmm? Your name. Tell me. The name your mother gave you.”

“…”

Because he was tied tight, he couldn’t move a single limb or even nod his head. The only thing he could move was his tongue. More accurately, his voice.

This was only because the wicked magician standing before him allowed it. In the face of such overwhelming magic, Sami’s ordinary body succumbed helplessly.

“Uh, ah, h-heuu…”

“Yes, open your lips, flick your tongue, and let your throat ring. Speak.”

Then everything will become sweet.

The magician, who had been terrifyingly angry just a moment ago, now soothed Sami gently. He was kind and soft, just like Young Master Antar. Sami’s eyes grew hazy and unfocused.

As if possessed, he opened his mouth.

My name is…

“There’s no need for you to know that, Bisan.”

Someone suddenly stepped between Sami and the sorcerer.

The sorcerer’s face, which had been wearing a thin smile until just a second ago, crumpled into a hideous grimace like a piece of ruined sheepskin. Simultaneously, the temptation that had been stroking Sami’s heart like a caress snapped apart.

“Razard…!”

The magician, his plans thwarted once again, roared in anger.

“…!”

Sami snapped back to his senses and scrambled back three or four steps. The air around the magician surged with red ripples before dying down again.

“You insect!”

“Hmm? What could you possibly mean by that?”

The sound of clinking gold ornaments reached Sami’s ears—a sound that had been drowned out when he could only see that pale, sinister magician.

“You’re the insect here. Always hiding in the shadows to avoid being touched by anything that shines.”

It was a voice that wasn’t exactly familiar, yet impossible to forget.

A smooth, relaxed bass with a hint of arrogance. In an instant, a refreshing, clear scent reminiscent of hyssop, mint, and frankincense wafted from behind his shoulder.

Could it be…?

Sami’s eyes went wide, and just as he took a breath—

“Wh-Whoa!”

With an air of confidence that didn’t suit someone who had just intruded, the man called ‘Razard’ hooked a finger into the back of Sami’s vest. Before the startled Sami could even react, he was hoisted up. It was a display of incredible strength.

Even if Sami was small, he was still a young man nearly twenty years old; even a giant three times the man’s size shouldn’t have been able to lift him with just one finger.

The man poked his head out from behind Sami’s shoulder to face him. A bandana embroidered with ornate patterns, gold jewelry adorning his ears and neck, eyes curved into a grin—and within them, golden pupils.

“Hey there, kid.”

“…!”

It was the magician from that night.