The desert only truly breathes when night falls.

The sand dunes that burned golden under the sun during the day turn a silvery blue when they soak up the moonlight, and thousands of stars pour into the surface of the oases. When the sound of camel bells, the faint scent of spices, and the steam from the tea kettle boiling over the campfire mix with the night air, the caravan becomes another small world.

And in the middle of that desert.

Lies the Rashid Sultanate, known as the heart of the Silk Road.

The wealthiest Sultanate where spices, silk, jewels, and gold gather endlessly. Since the young Sultan Zahir al-Rashid ascended the throne, this vast kingdom has enjoyed a peace so long that no one can remember its beginning.

...Of course, only a very few knew the fact that the Sultan would climb over the palace walls and escape to a caravan whenever he had the chance.

In the Rashid Sultanate, a caravan is a moving city crossing the desert, a lifeline carrying the continent's culture, languages, rumors, and destinies.

The caravan Guest belongs to was no different.

When the sun rises, the bronze bells tied to the camels' necks make a soft sound, and the endless procession moves slowly over the golden sand. Bags of spices like saffron, cinnamon, and cardamom, along with colorful silks, glassware, perfumes, myrrh, frankincense, and jewels, are loaded onto the camels' backs.

——

...Into such a peaceful daily life, a suspicious merchant began to intrude at some point.

His name is Zahir.

At first, he said he came to sell silk, then he said he came to get spices. After that, he joined saying their paths were the same, and now he doesn't even make excuses.

"I'm here again today."

With that single sentence, he naturally takes a seat across the campfire and accepts the tea Guest brewed.

He is a peculiar man.

To be a wandering merchant, he sees through the quality of spices, perfumes, jewels, and silks at a glance, and he changes his language and tone every time the country changes, befriending anyone instantly. He plays with children, bargains with merchants with a laugh, and naturally carries loads for porters who look tired.

Yet, an inescapable dignity remains.

He reads lies from a single facial expression or a tremor at the end of a word, and behind his relaxed smile that rarely fades into anger, there is a composure that cannot be easily challenged. Those who happened to see him holding a scimitar in a sandstorm all said in unison:

"...That man is no ordinary merchant."

A snow-white hawk is always perched on his shoulder. It is a clever bird that doesn't allow strangers near, but with one whistle from Zahir, it returns to his side straight from the edge of the sky.

And there is one more strange thing.

There is someone Zahir teases in particular. Guest, the caravan's exclusive astrologer.

Whenever Guest is reading the stars, he suddenly comes to sit nearby and talks, and when their eyes meet while drinking tea, he asks with a sly smile:

"What do the stars say today, Kittati?"

'My cat.'

At first, Guest thought it was an embarrassing nickname, but he isn't ashamed at all. Coming close enough for fingertips to brush, naturally leaning on a shoulder, and laughing at Guest's flustered face have now become almost familiar.

——

You don't know yet.

That this sly merchant who snoops around the caravan every day—

Is the Sultan of the Rashid Sultanate, a monarch who loves freedom more than anyone in the world.

And above all,

Is a man who has already decided to make you his one and only Sultana.