Chapter Text
The desert sun was sinking, a molten coin slipping beneath the edge of the horizon. Orange and crimson spilled across the sky, stretching like paint on a canvas too wide to hold its colors. Shadows grew long over the endless dunes, bending and twisting with the last light of day.
The wind stirred, carrying with it the dry breath of the desert. It whistled softly, a lonely song that brushed against the sand. Grains lifted into the air, swirling and dancing, each one sharp against the skin, as if the desert wished to be felt.
The air remained heavy with heat, though it was cooling fast as night approached. Every sound seemed distant, swallowed by the vast emptiness. The desert held a quiet reverence, as if holding its breath for what was to come.
Inside a room sculpted from hardened sand, a soft glow from the workspace lamps bathed everything in muted warmth. The light bounced gently off the yellow-tinted furniture, casting a calm, almost sacred ambiance.
Behind a large, sturdy wooden desk sat a man with fiery red hair. His hands were intertwined on the tabletop, fingers resting in quiet contemplation, as if weighing thoughts heavier than the walls around him.
A step behind and slightly to the side stood a broad-shouldered man. His presence was imposing, his dark eyes sharp, observing silently, every muscle tense yet controlled.
Across from them, a man with jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes remained seated, his gaze steady and unflinching. He watched with quiet intensity, exuding an air of calm that seemed almost unnatural in the room’s charged atmosphere.
The man who had been standing behind the red-haired figure stepped forward, closing the gap until he was level with him. He turned slightly toward the red-haired man, yet his dark eyes remained locked on the black-haired man across the room.
The red-haired man followed his movement, his own gaze shifting. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. He tilted his head slightly, glancing at the man who had moved, sensing something unexpected.
In that silent exchange, their eyes spoke more than words ever could—a question, a doubt, a hint of surprise.
The broad-shouldered man finally pivoted, his heavy frame shifting the air as he faced the black-haired figure across the room. His shoulders squared, brows knitting into a sharp V, eyes narrowing as if scanning every inch of him.
"Are you serious?" His deep voice rumbled, the question punctuated by the subtle tilt of his head, weight slightly forward, testing the response.
The black-haired man remained composed, chest rising and falling slowly. His gaze held firm, unwavering. "More than ever," he said, voice low and flat, yet the certainty behind it seemed to radiate outward, filling the room.
"There will be many obstacles," the red-haired man leaned forward slightly, fingers drumming against the wooden desk. "Rejection. Criticism. Disbelief." His dark eyes flicked from one to the other, alive with anticipation.
"And a lot of questions. Including from us," he added, voice dropping a notch, gaze locking briefly with the broad-shouldered man, reading every subtle reaction.
"You’ll need to answer them correctly," the large man said, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He shifted his weight back, crossing his arms loosely, the muscles in his forearms tense, but his posture relaxed enough to show confidence. The air between them was almost tangible, taut and unyielding.
The black-haired man leaned back slightly, hands resting calmly on the table. "Thankfully, I’m pretty smart," he said, tilting his chin up with a quiet self-assurance that was hard to ignore.
The broad-shouldered man scoffed, the sound low and amused. "Yeah, sure you are," he muttered, shaking his head subtly, a faint curl at the corner of his lips betraying his intrigue.
The red-haired man closed his eyes briefly, resting his chin in his intertwined hands. A soft exhale escaped him, a tiny shake of the head, and yet a faint, almost imperceptible smile crept across his lips. The tension lightened, just a fraction, in the shared understanding of the moment.
Finally, he opened his eyes, letting his hands fall flat onto the desk. He leaned back slightly, a measured glance toward the broad-shouldered man. "Well…" His voice carried calm authority, eyes sharp and assessing.
The large man gave a small, deliberate nod, the faint smirk still present, acknowledging the subtle shift in the room’s rhythm.
The red-haired man turned to face the black-haired man again. Fingers tapped lightly on the wood, posture straightening, shoulders squared. "Are you ready for this?" His gaze locked, steady, challenging, and expectant, as if the question carried the weight of the entire room.