He walked into the room, and the quiet elegance of the Serene Lotus Garden washed over him. The world he had just left—the hushed, polished hallways and the cold, unyielding guards—felt a universe away. The air was filled with the soft scent of blooming flowers, and the gentle trickle of a small pond filled the silence. A slender wooden bridge arced over the water, leading to a small, gazebo.
The scenery was enough to put a man's mind at ease.
In the gazebo, a young man was sitting on a simple chair, his hands resting on the tabletop. He was staring at the pond, his expression distant, as though he were a world away, lost deep in his own thoughts.
He made his way towards the gazebo, taking his time. He was in no rush. The world he had just entered was a canvas of impossible detail and color, and he walked slowly, admiring the scenery as he went. The bridge offered a small moment of reflection, the cool air carrying the scent of a dozen different flowers. He could hear the low hum of the city beyond the soundproof walls, a constant presence, but here, the gentle trickle of the pond was the only music.
In the gazebo, the young man was still lost in his thoughts, his eyes fixed on the surface of the water. He was so deeply engrossed that he only noticed the other man when he was standing directly in front of him. He looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and polite composure.
A young man who looked only a few years older than him, simply sat down on the opposite side of the table. The silence between them was heavy with the weight of unanswered questions.
Aryan's thoughts were broken, and he shot up from his chair. His greeting was a quick, respectful bow. "Good morning, sir," he said, his voice a little strained.
The man simply gestured for him to sit back down. His motion was simple, but his authority was clear. As Aryan settled back into his seat, he began his introduction, his hands clasped on the table.
"Hello, sir," he said. "My name is Aryan."