Prologue

Jasmine, pomegranate, oasis, sand, mint, apple, rose, bark, iron and fire.
And the fresh scent of hyssop blossoms spreading through the air.

“Sami.”

The space, filled with layers upon layers of luxurious scents, resembled a giant incense burner rather than a room. Even more so as the golden, intricately crafted pillars and the long, drooping leaves of potted plants intertwined their shadows, creating a shimmering illusion.

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“There are many Maruts in the world.”

Within this incense burner-like room, the man gently whispered, removing the pipe from his lips. As if he were about to select and narrate one of the tales from One Thousand and One Nights¹ throught the night, his voice was low and husky. The low murmur that flowed intimately, felt like a caress against his skin, tickling his senses. Sami’s toes curled involuntarily.

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The smoke that puffed out from between the man’s smooth lips was a delicate purple, like the mist from a dream. The slowly spreading smoke, carrying a moist touch, permeated through the veils draped over the bed. Beyond the gossamer veil, thin as a dragonfly’s wing, an opaque silhouette undulated.

“Razad…”

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Everything surrounding him felt low, intimate, and soft. The smoke, the veil, the gentle breeze, the light from the lamp, and the finely rustling sound of leaves. Everything that hung before his eyes swayed vaguely.

“Ah…”

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Only one thing, the man whispering softly in front of him, shone clearly as if he were made by crushing gold and sunlight. The man approached Sami’s face with a familiar, natural ease and brushed his lips against his skin. Hair the color of sun-warmed sand cascaded down.

Lips, having exhaled fragrant smoke, touched Sami’s forehead, the corner of his eyes, his cheeks, and lastly, his lips, which were parted weakly. They brushed against each other softly, like silk against silk.

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Kiss, kiss.

The sound of soft, moist lips meeting filled the room, laden with scent.

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Kiss, smooch.

As the sound of their lips touching became more and more viscous, as if they were savoring honey in their mouths, their lips parted with faint breaths. They overlapped as if in a puzzle, and then their tongues entwined  in a natural progression.

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“Razad, Razad…”

“Yes, Sami. Shh…”

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In this room that teased Sami with subtle sensations, only the breath and tongue invading his mouth were hot. Wet, languid sounds accumulated on their intertwined tongues.

As if entranced by some illusion or magic, Sami received and served the man’s tongue.

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His mind was hazy, his skin clung to by a strange scent. To think of his body melting so softly like this was something he couldn’t have imagined just a few months ago.

The body that had never known any kind of intimacy until he turned twenty, now, as if mocking its own innocence, was merely being savored on the man’s tongue.

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“Mmm, mm…”

Conversely, although his lips and tongue had been tamed by the man’s for months, he was still clumsy, unskilled in the art of pleasurably teasing with his tongue. He swallowed the offered saliva awkwardly, flattening his own tongue beneath the other’s intrusion, allowing the man to play within his mouth as he pleased. Sami’s naive tongue was simply the man’s preference.

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“You’re listening well now, Sami.”

Sami didn’t even know what kind of submission this kiss held. He was simply being tamed, unaware of the shame of being played with according to the man’s desires.

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That was what the man wanted.

To be touched and molded until Sami became the perfect shape that fit best in his hand.

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Becoming something solely for one person was Sami’s given task.

“Haa…”

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Their intertwined tongues separated, and Sami parted his lips, which had, until moments ago, received the man’s. White, even teeth were briefly revealed between his full lips before he drew them in and hid them again.

“They’re all beautiful jewels, but you, Sami, are special.”

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The man brought another pipe to his mouth exhaling fragrant smoke, and drew closer to Sami’s ear. His eyes, narrowed as if drowsy, were sharp and distinct, which made him look like a serpent and a tiger at the same time. Though he smiled smoothly, there was a chilling aspect to him, like a beast with sharp teeth.

The lips that had just savored Sami’s now formed a round shape. Fragrant smoke curled from between them once more. Glittering fragments within the smoke captivated Sami’s eyes.

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The smoke, as always, was the pale purple, the color of dawn.

A color that was neither of the night nor of the morning.

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The color favored by a djinni², a spirit who traverse boundaries.

The fragrant, ominous smoke seemed to cling to his skin, even invading his ears. Sami involuntarily shrugged his shoulders. It tickled incessantly.

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“There is only one in the world. A living and breathing Marut.”

Why did this man, who shined as if he were made of gold, always evoke this dangerous feeling, like a wicked fantasy?

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Amidst the man’s cheerful smile, Sami sensed a sticky, clinging poison. Through the gently swirling purple smoke, his eyes, burning yellow like embedded flames, were revealed.

He possessed the color of morning and the scent of night.

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“Sami. Before you, other Maruts are mere ghosts of the past. Nothing but worn-out jewels.”

The man’s fingers traced Sami’s unripe cheek. Each ring on his fingers, adorned with uniquely crafted jewels, sparkled dazzlingly. Embued with the scents of jasmine, pomegranate, oasis, sand, mint, apple, rose, bark, iron, and fire, they embraced their own light, resplendent in a myriad of colors.

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It felt as if those lights were staring at Sami. As if they were rebuking the youthful vitality of his skin, the soft breaths he exhaled, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, all through their glittering brilliance.

Unfazed by Sami’s tense expression, the man smiled and marked Sami’s forehead with the gold dust³ on his thumb.

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“By the sun of Harut and the moon of Marut.⁴”

Even the words that the people of this country recited like a greeting sounded strangely seductive, as if he the man spoke of a wicked incantation.

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“My one and only Marut.”

His eyes, unsure where to settle, darted back ad forth, his shoulders hunched in timidity, and his heels and ankles hardened from years of servitude, yet with a soft, untamed elegance, never been touched by another person’s hand.

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Looking at the small, underdeveloped, slender body that had yet to fully mature even after reaching adulthood, the man’s gaze only looked at him with eyes that seemed full of affection. Within the golden, sun-like irises, his black pupils were sharp and distinct.

“Sami, you must become mine. I am, after all, also the only one of my kind in this world.”

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It’s only natural that the one-of-a-kind beings belong together.

The scent clinging to his fingertips transferred to Sami’s earlobe and forehead, remaining like gold dust. His underdeveloped body was entirely coated and smeared with what Razad had bestowed upon him. Smoke, like thin silk, enveloped them both.

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“Razad.”

Sami’s eyes met his. Round, honest, and lovely eyes.

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“Is that… something I can choose?”

The man’s lips curved into a smooth, supple smile.

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Foolish, adorable Sami.

It was a rather defiant question, but Razad decided to view his impudence endearing.

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After all, he was a being created to become his. Such vain wishes could be indulged as the childish whims of an untamed Marut.

“A choice…”

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Something the world had prepared for him. Even though Sami had grown up under his care, he had yet to mature or blossom.

It was almost admirable that such a small, insignificant being could harbor such thoughts. Sami had remained dormant in the form of seed for twenty years, waiting to be molded by his touch.

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A small, flat, black seed that had yet to sprout.

Only Razad, only he, could soften the seed’s shell and extract the white sprout within.

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He, and only he, would prune the tender stem, coax it to bear fruit, and nurture it into a plump, ripe offering. It was the sole privilege of Harut, himself, devour Sami as he grew.

He was just waiting for Sami to ripen so much that he would open at the slightest touch. Yet, he spoke of choice.

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How could he entertain such foolish thoughts?

“Alright. Think long and hard about your choice.”

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Unfortunately, this wasn’t a fantastical tale or a forced illusion.

He wasn’t some downtrodden servant embarking on a perilous adventure after being asked to retrieve a treasure lamp. This was not something out of One Thousand and One Nights, but merely the repetition of a preordained record.

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An existence destined to be intertwined with him from birth. His alone. A perfect match, clinging to each other like a ring that’s interlocked.

“If you could.”

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It was a singe destiny, devoid of choice.

Well… no matter what irritating curse may befall upon us.

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