[Capital of Zahryssar — Sarytharn — Morning — A Wine Shop]
Morning in Sarytharn did not awaken gently—it bargained. Coins spoke louder than voices, secrets moved faster than shadows, and within a modest wine shop tucked between crowded streets, behind a concealed panel of carved wood—another kind of trade was unfolding.
At the center of a low, dim-lit chamber sat a man with striking presence, crimson hair, silver eyes, a harp…calculating…unforgiving.
Raviel—one who works as a secret network—leaned back against the cushioned seat, one leg crossed lazily over the other, and between his fingers a necklace.
A pink diamond, heavy and luminous, not glittering like ordinary jewels but pulsing…faintly. As though it had once been alive.
At his feet, a sleek leopard rested, tail swaying slowly, its golden gaze half-lidded yet alert—watching everything its master did not need to.
