Nariman remained under Barwin's bed, refusing to come out.
Barwin sat on the floor, his gaze fixed silently on her, waiting for her to emerge.
After several minutes, he broke the silence in a calm voice:
"You should go home."
A moment later, Nariman turned her face away quickly and said in a trembling voice,
"I can't… I'm scared."
Barwin remained silent, his cold expression unmoving.
After a few seconds, Nariman crawled out from under the bed and sat upright, looking at him with a determined expression, as if she had made up her mind.
"There are things I want to ask you… so many things I don't understand."
Barwin looked at her, his expression unchanged—silent, as always.
Nariman continued, her voice hesitant but firm:
"I was shocked when I learned that the man you killed was the president of Yemen… I would never have known if I hadn't seen the news announcing his death.
Tell me, how did you get to him? And what was his power? Neither you nor my father could stand against him…"
Barwin paused, thinking deeply before he spoke, his eyes fixed steadily on Nariman.
"He… had no power."
Nariman trembled and shouted in disbelief,
"You're joking, right?!"
Barwin remained silent, not answering, his cold gaze unwavering.
Nariman stared at him, her eyes wide in shock, unable to comprehend what she had just heard.
Then she asked hesitantly, curiosity flickering in her voice,
"Where are you from?"
He looked away, as if lost in deep thought, his mind wandering for a while, before finally answering in a low, steady tone:
"I don't know."
Nariman's eyes widened in astonishment.
"You don't know??!"
His sharp gaze turned to her suddenly—eyes that seemed to pierce through her soul, filled with something like a fury long restrained.
She thought quickly: It's not wise to ask him about his past…
Then, eager and curious again, she said quickly,
"Alright then… do you know about Nazaria?"
Barwin replied steadily,
"It's an island."
Nariman's face lit up with excitement; she moved closer and began bombarding him with questions one after another:
"Do you know anything about the island? When did it disappear? Does it still exist? What caused its fall? What was the conflict that happened there? Nothing was written about it in the books!!"
A flicker of surprise crossed Barwin's face for a brief moment before he thought for a while and answered,
"The island vanished more than three thousand years ago."
Nariman immediately interrupted, astonished:
"Does it still exist?"
Barwin replied quietly,
"I don't know."
Nariman fell silent for a moment, disappointment filling her eyes, then quickly continued, her words tumbling out,
"Who is the Awaited Ruler? My father's books mentioned him, but never explained anything about him."
A hint of surprise crossed Barwin's face again; he thought briefly before answering in a low, steady voice,
"I can't tell you."
Nariman gasped loudly, shouting,
"Why?!"
Barwin replied calmly, his tone as cold and quiet as ever,
"I promised your father I would never tell you anything."
Nariman frowned and looked away, trying to process his words, disappointment and confusion stirring within her.
Barwin sighed softly, then said in a calm voice,
"You should go back home now."
Nariman answered stubbornly, her tone sulky,
"I don't want to."
Barwin asked quietly, without changing his tone,
"Why?"
Then he sighed and said,
"You have to face your problems instead of running away."
She replied quickly, her voice full of distress,
"I'll be punished… I'll be beaten!"
He sighed again, then said,
"I'll go with you, to make sure he doesn't hit you."
Nariman turned to him, surprised and confused.
"Why are you doing all this for me?" she asked hesitantly.
He answered softly,
"I'm… not."
Nariman frowned in irritation.
"Oh really? Protecting me, taking the beating in my place—does that mean nothing to you?"
Barwin remained silent for a moment, then said,
"To me, it's nothing compared to the sacrifices I was forced to make."
Her eyes widened as she wondered—was his past truly that painful?
Words caught in her throat. A strange sadness that wasn't her own welled up inside, mixed with shock, and pity that unsettling her heart.
For a brief moment, her expression shifted between confusion and sympathy, then she slowly gathered herself and said firmly,
"I'll go back home."
A heavy silence filled the space between them before Nariman finally stood up, resolving to return home.
She opened the door and left, and Barwin followed quietly behind her—like a silent guardian.
Nariman entered the house with hesitant steps, while Barwin remained outside, waiting.
She stopped at the doorway of the living room, her body slightly tense, her hands clasped in front of her chest.
Her father sat on the couch, his sharp eyes tracking her every small movement.
Her lips trembled slightly as she tried to remain calm.
She lifted her head a little but couldn't meet his gaze, staring instead at the floor before his feet, trying to hide her nervousness.
Her hands were cold, so she held the edge of her dress tightly, steadying herself.
He glanced at his watch, then looked back at her and said sternly,
"Didn't I tell you five minutes?"
Nariman lowered her head and turned her face away, avoiding his eyes in silent fear.
Her father's voice rose again, firmer this time,
"Do you know why I'm angry?"
But Nariman stayed silent, staring anywhere but into his eyes.
At that moment, her father grabbed the old books stacked beside him and threw them violently to the floor.
The entire room seemed to tremble, and her heart skipped a beat from the shock.
Nearby, Barwin stood by the window, leaning against the wall, listening silently—his eyes sharp, observing everything.
Adam spoke again, his voice low and cutting, like a knife slicing through the air:
"How many of these books have you read?"
Nariman remained silent, her lips trembling, hardly daring to breathe.
Then her father roared suddenly, his voice booming,
"Answer me!"
Nariman flinched at the shout, her voice coming out weak and trembling, barely audible:
"All of them…"
In an instant, her father stood up violently, grabbing a long stick from beside the wall, his hand shaking with rage as he advanced toward her in quick, heavy steps.
Suddenly, a loud pounding came from the window.The glass itself began to melt,dripping like soft wax before their eyes.
Behind the shattered window stood Barwin, his eyes blazing like lightning.
He gripped his sword tightly, ready to strike, and his voice came out cold—but deadly:
"Do you wish to die?"