For a brief moment, across the busy café, Arin Vale and Kael Zaaku looked directly at each other.
It lasted only a second.
Yet something about it felt longer.
Kael's eyes were sharp—cold and steady like someone who had spent his life being watched and admired. There was confidence in his gaze, but not the loud kind. It was the quiet confidence of someone who already knew his place in the world.
Then, just as quickly, Kael turned away and continued talking to his friends.
The café slowly returned to its normal rhythm. Conversations resumed, plates clinked, and the waiters moved again between the tables.
But Arin was still thinking about that moment.
He leaned slightly toward Peter.
"That guy is… confident," Arin said thoughtfully.
Peter raised an eyebrow.
"How so?"
Arin rested his chin lightly on his hand.
"When we looked at each other, he didn't look curious or surprised."
Peter waited.
"He looked like someone who has never doubted himself," Arin finished quietly.
Peter studied his friend for a moment.
Then he shook his head gently.
"Arin…"
"What?"
"Stop underestimating yourself."
Arin blinked.
Peter leaned forward slightly.
"Every time, my friend."
His voice was calm but firm.
"Never underestimate yourself."
For a moment, Arin didn't know what to say.
He simply looked at Peter.
Something about the way Peter said it—so casually, yet so seriously—made Arin's chest feel strangely warm.
His eyes shimmered slightly under the café lights.
Before he could reply, a waiter arrived at their table carrying two plates.
"Your order," the waiter said politely.
He placed the burgers in front of them.
For a moment, both boys simply stared.
The burgers looked incredible.
Fresh bread, perfectly toasted. Juicy meat layered with melted cheese, roasted onions, and thick slices of tomato. A warm cloud of spice and smoke rose from the plate, filling the air around their table.
Arin's eyes widened.
"That… looks amazing."
Peter laughed.
"I told you this place was good."
Arin leaned closer and inhaled the smell.
"Alright," he said with a grin.
"Let's eat."
They didn't speak much for the next few minutes.
Some foods demand silence.
And this was one of them.
The burger was perfectly cooked. The meat was tender and rich, the spices balanced just right. Even the bread felt warm and soft with every bite.
Arin laughed quietly between bites.
"I think this might be the best thing that happened today."
Peter smirked.
"Food has that effect."
Within minutes, their plates were empty.
Arin leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.
"That was worth it."
Peter nodded.
They paid the bill and stepped outside.
The evening air was cooler now. The market street had grown brighter as lanterns and shop lights illuminated the narrow road.
People moved everywhere—vendors calling out their goods, families walking together, children chasing each other between stalls.
Arin and Peter walked slowly through the market.
For a while they didn't speak.
But then something unusual happened.
People suddenly began stepping aside on the street.
Shopkeepers straightened their backs.
Some even bowed slightly.
Arin frowned.
"What's going on?"
Peter looked ahead.
A man was walking down the street.
And the moment Arin saw him, he understood why everyone was staring.
The man looked extraordinary.
He was tall—easily taller than most people around him—and his shoulders were broad like a warrior's. His hair was long and dark, tied behind his back with a golden clasp.
But what truly drew attention was his clothing.
He wore a deep crimson robe embroidered with golden patterns that shimmered under the lantern light. The fabric looked ancient, almost royal.
At his waist hung a curved blade with a jeweled hilt.
The man's presence alone seemed to command respect.
People stepped aside as he passed.
Some placed their hands together in greeting.
Others bowed their heads.
Arin leaned toward Peter.
"Who is that?"
Peter's eyes widened slightly.
Then he did something unexpected.
He dropped to one knee.
Arin froze.
Several others nearby did the same.
Only Arin remained standing.
Peter spoke in a respectful tone.
"That… is senjonng
The name carried weight.
Peter continued quietly.
"He's the Sovereign Champion."
Arin frowned slightly.
"Sovereign Champion?"
Peter nodded.
"The ruler chosen through the Grand Contest."
Arin remembered the history book from the library.
The contest that happened every five years.
Peter continued.
"He has won it for thirty years."
Arin's eyes widened.
"Thirty?"
Peter nodded.
"Six victories."
"Six times he defeated every challenger."
Arin looked at the man again.
Now that he observed carefully, he could see something strange about senjonng
Despite his calm walk, there was power in every step.
The air around him seemed heavier somehow.
Like standing near a mountain.
Then something unexpected happened.
As senjonng passed by them, his eyes moved across the crowd.
And they stopped.
Right on Arin.
The Sovereign Champion studied him for a brief moment.
Arin didn't kneel.
He simply stood there.
Their eyes met.
For a second, the busy market disappeared.
Then senjonng smiled.
A small, amused smile.
And he continued walking.
The crowd slowly stood again after he passed.
Peter stood up quickly and turned to Arin.
"Why didn't you kneel?"
Arin shrugged.
"I know who he is."
Peter blinked.
"Then why—"
Arin looked toward the street where senjonng had disappeared.
"I don't kneel before power."
Peter stared at him.
Arin continued calmly.
"Respect should come from the heart."
He crossed his arms.
"Not from fear."
Peter shook his head slowly.
"You're unbelievable."
Arin smirked.
I'm honest.
Peter laughed.
"What a strange guy you are.
Arin shrugged.
"I've always been like this.
Both of them laughed.
Eventually they reached the fork in the road where their paths separated.
Peter pointed left.
My house is that way."
Arin nodded toward the opposite street.
"Mine's this direction."
They stood there for a moment.
"See you tomorrow?" Peter asked.
Arin smiled.
"Yeah."
They waved and walked away in opposite directions.
But Arin didn't go home immediately.
Instead, he turned toward the small park nearby.
The same park he often visited when his mind felt too crowded.
The night air was quiet there.
He sat on a wooden bench and stared at the sky.
For nearly an hour, he stayed there thinking.
About power.
About Kael Zaaku.
About senjonng
And about the strange path his life seemed to be walking.
Finally, he stood up and headed home.
As he turned the corner of his street, he noticed something familiar.
A small light glowed near the roadside.
And beside it stood Uncle Sam.
The old man was busy preparing something over a small cooking pot.
The smell drifted through the air.
Arin smiled slightly.
"Uncle Sam?"
The old man looked up.
"Ah, Arin!"
He laughed warmly.
"Perfect timing."
Arin walked closer.
"What are you making?"
Uncle Sam stirred the pot proudly.
"Something special tonight."
He lifted the lid.
Steam rose into the cool night air.
"Old traveler's stew," he said.
"Recipe from a very long journey."
Arin sat down beside him.
And for the first time that day—
His mind felt quiet.