The lift chimed softly, and the doors opened on the 34th floor. The first thing Aryan saw was Aarav, the First Knight, standing in front of room 3402. He was a statue of quiet vigilance, his black attire blending seamlessly with the polished doors. Aryan's eyes widened in shock. The First Knight, a figure of near-mythical status, was here himself, guarding a single door. The magnitude of the mission hit him with full force.
He walked forward, stopping a respectful distance away before giving a deep, formal bow. "Good morning, First Knight."
Aarav's eyes, visible through the slits in his mask, met Aryan's. He looked him up and down for a moment, his mind silently asking: Veer sent a child to look after him? He simply gave a brief nod in return.
"He is still sleeping," Aarav said, his voice a low, flat monotone. "You can wait on the first floor. The garden is there. I'll inform you when he is up."
Aryan's expression shifted from awe to polite confusion. "Okay, but when will he wake up?"
Aarav's gaze returned to the door of room 3402. A faint, dry hint of sarcasm touched his tone as he replied, "Who knows."
The man woke up at 11:34 AM, the afternoon light bright in the room. He was naked, a deep, healing sleep finally done. He walked into the washroom, splashing cold water on his face to shake off the last remnants of the past. He grabbed a fresh towel, wrapped it around his waist, and walked to the door.
He opened it to find Aarav standing there, a silent statue of vigilance.
"Ask someone to bring breakfast," the man said, his voice a little hoarse from sleep.
Aarav didn't move. "There is someone waiting for you. The Family Head sent him."
"Ah," he said, the sound a mix of laziness and mild annoyance. "Where?"
"First floor."
"Okay," the man said, his hand running through his hair. "Ask someone to bring me some clothes. All I have is this robe and a towel." He looked at Aarav, shrugging slightly. "What size am I? I don't know. I'm... like... six foot or something."
Aarav's expression didn't change. His voice was a cold, flat command. "What kind of clothes would you like?"
The man's brow furrowed, irritation flashing in his eyes. The coldness was grating. "Any kind will suffice," he said, a touch of anger in his voice. "Just have them be comfortable."
"I will ask someone to bring them," Aarav replied, turning to leave.
As Aarav walked away, the man quickly called out after him, his hand in his hair. "And tell a barber to come too! These damned messy hairs..." He shook his head and shut the door with a quiet click.
He closed the door on Aarav and turned back into the suite. He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked out at the city below. The streets were veins of traffic, a constant, living pulse of activity. The buildings stretched for miles, a new kind of horizon he had never known. The world had moved on, and it was vibrant, alive, and utterly oblivious to his existence.
A faint smile touched his lips. He watched the bustling city for a long moment, a quiet observer of a future he had helped build. With a lazy sigh, he turned away from the window and fell back onto the soft bed.