Mero felt light, as if freed from a burden that had weighed on his soul for far too long. Walking with a confident stride through the hushed corridors of the establishment, he carried within him the sense of a fresh start—the rebirth of a man rediscovering himself and preparing to embrace the future, uncertain as it might seem.
Upon entering the restaurant, Mero was greeted by a soothing and refined atmosphere. The air, perfumed with the intoxicating aroma of freshly prepared dishes, offered his senses a true invitation to unwind. The walls adorned with delicate woodwork, the impeccably pressed tablecloths, and the soft lighting created a setting where elegance mingled with human warmth. Without wasting a moment, Mero settled at a meticulously arranged table, choosing a seat that allowed him to quietly observe the discreet, orderly activity animating the room.
The waiter, a man of exquisite manners and attentive gaze, approached swiftly to take his order. In a calm, steady voice, Mero said, “The finest cut of meat, please.” These words, simple on the surface, carried the symbolic weight of a desire to reconnect with life’s authentic pleasures amid the tumult of his thoughts. As the waiter departed to prepare his dish, Mero let his gaze wander around the room. He observed the hushed conversations, the exchanged smiles, and the knowing glances, as if seeking in the daily lives of others the clues to a rediscovered happiness.
Gradually, the restaurant reclaimed its dominion, banishing the shadows of past uncertainties. In this almost magical ambiance, the tantalizing scent of roasting meat wafted from the kitchen, seeming to promise each guest a moment of pure delight. For Mero, every note of that aroma became a subtle reminder that life, in its simplicity, sometimes offered the greatest gifts. When the dish finally arrived, presented with an elegance that spoke to the chefs’ expertise, he felt ready to fully savor this moment of grace. Each slice of perfectly cooked, seasoned meat became both a tribute to the past and a promise for the future. As he slowly savored the refined dish, he let his mind drift, momentarily detaching from the worries that haunted him.
After the meal, with a calm mind and a light heart, Mero left the restaurant to return to his hotel room. The luxurious, spacious suite, however, seemed devoid of human warmth. The absence of Le?la, his devoted and protective nursemaid, was keenly felt. This woman, who had always known how to bring comfort and tenderness in difficult times, was sorely missed by Mero. In the plush comfort of the large bed, with its silk sheets and soft pillows, he couldn’t help but wonder what Mandarine would think if he compared the impersonal coldness of this room to the welcoming hearth of his memories.
Settled into this lavish yet foreign setting, Mero was overcome by a gentle melancholy. The rich draperies, the dim lighting, and even the carefully chosen decor, designed to please the eyes of visitors, evoked an ambiance far removed from the modest neighborhoods of his childhood. As he slipped beneath the sheets, the warmth of the bed offered fleeting comfort, but the shadow of solitude lingered. He imagined Mandarine, with her sharp gaze and biting humor, wandering through this room, perhaps mocking its rigid conventions and ostentatious luxury, so unfamiliar to her. The memory of her laughter and piercing remarks echoed in Mero’s mind, reminding him that, despite the distance from his roots, he was never truly alone.
The night was long and ripe with dreams where memories intertwined with aspirations for the future. In the hushed silence of his room, Mero let his thoughts wander, revisiting happy moments from the past and imagining the challenges awaiting him in this ever-changing world. At dawn, the gentle whisper of morning roused him from a deep sleep, and he prepared to face a new day with the same determination that had always driven him.
From the first light, the hotel staff was already bustling about Mero’s room. Young, elegant maids moved silently, preparing his clothes. Their meticulous work, performed with refined discretion, reflected the tradition and respect that reigned in this place. Yet, despite their goodwill and the kindness in their faces, Mero couldn’t shake a pang of nostalgia as he watched them. None could replace the invaluable presence of Mandarine, whose vibrant spirit and lively character had once illuminated his life.
As he prepared to don his imperial attire, Mero felt an irrepressible urge to mark this new chapter with a symbolic gesture. Without fully realizing it, he instinctively raised his hand to his neck to touch the gold pendant resting there. This small jewel, inherited from a past rich with emotion, had over time become a tic—a repetitive gesture that constantly brought him back to the memory of the woman who had once brightened his days. Looking at himself in the mirror, he silently wondered if Mandarine, with her keen sense of irony, would have found amusement in seeing him lost in this ritual. Yet, the image he reflected, imbued with dignity and resolve, reminded him that he was now the master of his destiny.
With quiet assurance, Mero insisted on dressing himself. The challenge was a way to blend independence with pride. As the maids withdrew, leaving him alone in the intimacy of his dressing room, he took care to select each garment with near-ritualistic attention. The imperial robes, heavy and majestic, were not merely a uniform: they symbolized a new role, a destiny to embrace in a world in flux. Each fold, each embroidery seemed to tell the story of an empire, an ancestral tradition Mero was duty-bound to honor, even if he sometimes felt trapped by its codes and expectations.
Once adorned in these garments, Mero turned again to his reflection. He briefly wondered if Mandarine might have found this transformation amusing, even faintly ironic. Yet the faint smile that touched his lips betrayed the serenity with which he embraced this new version of himself: a figure both strong and vulnerable, ready to face the challenges fate would impose.
Conscious that it was time for a more radical change, Mero recalled that he hadn’t cut his hair since leaving home. Now too long, reaching down the middle of his back, it seemed to symbolize a bygone era. Determined to adopt a style more in line with the empire’s demands, he summoned a renowned barber known for his skill. The man, well into his fifties, arrived with a leather apron and a professional calm that commanded respect. Upon seeing Mero, he inclined his head slightly in deference, awaiting instructions.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
In a firm, resolute voice, Mero explained that he wanted a haircut in the imperial style, blending simplicity and elegance. Without delay, the barber set to work. With each snip of the scissors, every falling lock seemed to carry away a piece of Mero’s past. The soft sound of the blades mingled with the gentle warmth of the room, creating an almost surreal atmosphere, as if time itself paused to witness this metamorphosis. Soon, Mero’s hair took on a neat, disciplined look, perfectly reflecting the rigorous image the empire expected of him. In the mirror, he saw that this transformation was more than a mere change of style: it was a rite of passage, a symbol of renewal in a life in transition.
When the task was complete, Mero thanked the barber with a courteous gesture, adhering to the strict etiquette of imperial custom. No sooner had he finished than a servant burst into the room, carrying a carefully sealed envelope. Intrigued, Mero examined it closely. Upon opening it, he found inside a train ticket, written on high-quality paper adorned with the emblem of the imperial capital. The word “train” was inscribed in fine, elegant letters, sparking in him a pressing curiosity. He had never heard of such a mode of transport, and the term—so foreign to the stories of his upbringing—stirred a mix of wonder and apprehension.
The accompanying letter outlined the travel arrangements with precision. According to the instructions, the train was to take him to Mor to further his studies. Yet, despite the clarity of the directions, the word remained an enigma to Mero. The concept of this terrestrial vehicle, capable of connecting distant lands in record time, was still shrouded in mystery. Was it truly the mode of transport imagined in modern tales? Or was it merely a symbolic term, a metaphor for the upheavals to come?
As Mero pondered these questions, more unexpected details enriched this already eventful day. The same servant announced that all of Mero’s belongings would now be handled by the train. A “wagon” specially fitted for his sole use had been reserved for him. This word, too, was unfamiliar, reinforcing the sense that he was stepping into a world where tradition and modernity intertwined in surprising ways. Driven by a need to understand this new reality, Mero asked one of the maids if it was possible to see this so-called train from his room. With a hint of regret, the young woman replied that no, a direct view wasn’t possible. She explained that the train was too noisy and polluting to be stationed near the hotel. However, she revealed that a privileged vantage point awaited at the hotel tower’s solarium, where he could catch sight of the train departing from what was called the “station”—yet another term unfamiliar to Mero’s ears.
The promise of unraveling the mystery of this modern transport ignited an insatiable curiosity within him. Determined not to remain ignorant, Mero swiftly left his room and headed for the tower. Climbing the stairs in a silence thick with anticipation felt symbolic of his ascent toward a new horizon. With each floor he passed, he felt more deeply that he now belonged to a world where the past and future were inextricably linked.
Upon reaching the solarium, Mero was struck by the vastness of the view before him. A breathtaking panorama stretched out, sketching the outlines of a landscape both familiar and strangely altered. In the distance, like a metal titan charging along invisible rails, Mero spotted the train. This immense machine, both fascinating and intimidating, stood out with its imposing size and metallic structure that seemed to stretch endlessly. Large, sturdy wheels bore this rolling colossus, while thick black smoke billowed from its chimneys, darkening the sky already tinged with the hues of dusk.
The continuous rumble of the engine reverberated through the air, creating a symphony of metallic sounds that captivated Mero’s attention. He watched, mesmerized, as the train’s raw power seemed to embody the essence of modern progress. For him, the sight was both a shock and a source of fascination. The deafening noise and polluting smoke underscored the excesses of a rapidly evolving world, yet the train also symbolized the promise of a future where distance would no longer be a barrier, where borders would dissolve before human ingenuity.
Confronted with this formidable machine, Mero couldn’t help but feel a blend of awe and trepidation. Every detail—the gleam of its body, the flashes of light on its moving wheels—spoke of modernity and innovation. Yet beyond its technical marvel, the train represented far more than a means of travel to him. It symbolized his entry into a new era, one where the old order, defined by rigid codes and ancient traditions, was gradually giving way to a world reshaped by technology and innovation.
In that suspended moment, Mero sensed that his destiny was intimately tied to this evolution. He realized that to be worthy of the responsibility he bore as a prince in an empire in transition, he too must learn to navigate these murky waters. The train, with its untamed power and futuristic form, mirrored a universe in constant motion, where every moment carried the potential for transformation.
As he absorbed this modern vision, a discreet presence emerged. A servant stood at the solarium’s entrance, gesturing for him to prepare for departure. Determination etched across his face, Mero took one last reflective glance at the distant horizon, knowing it was time to step into this new adventure. The stakes were immense, the path still riddled with unknowns, but he was ready to rise to the challenge.
The day had been long, marked by moments of solitude, transformation, and discovery. Mero had journeyed from the restaurant to his room, undergone a metamorphosis of appearance, and finally gazed upon this colossal train heralding a bold future. Every experience, every action, was now inscribed in the grand ledger of his destiny. In the servant’s gaze, the distant roar of the engine, and the glint of light on the train’s body, he glimpsed the dawn of a new era—one where the old and the modern would converge to shape a world in flux.
As Mero moved toward the solarium’s exit, ready to embrace the unknown, the murmur of fate seemed to accompany him. Modernity and tradition stood face-to-face, entwined in a fragile, ever-shifting balance. In this moment of transition, where the past melted into the future, one certainty remained: the time had come to depart, to leave behind the remnants of a bygone life and fully embrace the promise of a tomorrow that, though mysterious, beckoned him irresistibly.
A servant now waited at the solarium door, signaling that all that remained was to follow the path laid out by destiny. With a heart full of courage and newfound curiosity, Mero prepared to cross the threshold of this modern adventure, aware that every second mattered and that, from now on, no delay was permissible.
The train does not wait.
