But as Zagh climbed the final steps, he froze.
There—at the highest tier—stood a face he knew all too well.
The Princess.
The moment Zagh saw him, his steps faltered for a breath. He quickly averted his eyes and turned toward the far side of the terrace, heading for the drinks table. Unfortunately, the attention he’d drawn earlier now worked against him; more and more eyes followed his every move.
Still, Zagh kept his composure.
He moved with deliberate grace toward the ornate table where various liquors and crystal decanters shimmered under the golden lights. Four men in traditional Arabic robes stood behind it, watching sharply to ensure nothing went wrong.
Zagh began arranging the diamond-studded glasses on the silver tray, carefully pouring the drinks with practiced elegance. As he worked, he perked his ears—just enough to catch a conversation between the three pompous men seated below the Princess.
Idris (the second fool): “We’ve already prepared everything needed for the arms and ammunition supply.”
Alaa (the third fool): “It’s a win-win deal. Higher output, lower cut.”
Asadollah Esra (the first fool): “This is the ideal arrangement for you. No more dealing with those filthy rats.”
Zagh smirked internally. “You’re the real rats,” he thought, picturing the three sheikhs as bloated rodents dressed in gold.
Once finished, he turned and made his way toward them, careful and silent, the tray of drinks balanced effortlessly in his hands.
He reached the group, placed the tray on the ornate table in front of them, and began pouring the drinks with steady hands.
So they’re still chasing profits from that two-year-old mess, he thought with a quiet sigh. Haven’t learned a thing.
Just then, the second fool glanced at him. But despite Zagh’s presence, the man seemed more absorbed in the promise of power than the dancer pouring his drink.
The first fool continued, his voice full of pride:
“Our production line is domestic, fully independent. No middlemen. It can supply directly to the Serpent Organization. This is the perfect chance for us to prove our worth.”
All three men tried, in their own desperate way, to impress the Princess.
But the Princess…
He hadn’t taken his eyes off Zagh. Not for a second.
Zagh felt it. The heat of that gaze, intense and fixed, as if stripping him down layer by layer.
He instinctively stepped back—but before he could retreat further, the third fool reached out and grabbed his wrist, tugging him closer with a greedy hand.
Zagh turned to him, flashed a mischievous look, and said sweetly—
“Enjoying the view, are you?”The second fool froze mid-sentence. The room went dead quiet. All eyes turned to Zagh, and you could practically smell the panic in the air.
Zagh just stood there for a beat—then slowly pulled off his veil, flashing a smug little grin.
“Ta-da,” he said, laughing lightly. “Miss me? You look surprised. Honestly… so am I. I didn’t think I’d look this good in these clothes.”
He winked. “But let’s get real—you guys still haven’t learned, huh?”
Suddenly, every guard around the terrace raised their weapons, aiming right at him.
Zagh rolled his eyes. “Of course.love drama. "
Up on his elevated seat, the Princess—who’d looked bored to death a moment ago—was now very, very interested. His eyes lit up, glued to Zagh. But this time, Zagh didn’t look back.
His focus was on the three fools.
“Well?” he said, tilting his head. “Aren’t you gonna tell your boys to chill before someone does something stupid?”
The first fool finally snapped out of it and waved the guards down. His voice was low and tight. “What are you doing here?”
Zagh put a hand to his chest like he was genuinely offended. “What am I doing here? Come on. Still chasing that dusty old weapons deal from two years ago? Still dragging me into your crap like I owe you something?”
He gave a sarcastic little laugh. “I seriously thought you’d learned your lesson by now. Guess not.”
He leaned in slightly, voice softer but sharper:
“Honestly, you should be thanking me. You still breathing, aren’t you?”
Then, with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he turned to the Princess and said, “By the way, did you know they’re trying to screw you over?”
All three sheikhs stiffened. Panic. Then—
“P-Princess?!” they gasped in unison.
Zagh paid little mind and continued, “It seems you didn’t know these three fools were connected with the Eagle and Rat organizations. Two years ago, these same three sheikhs signed a contract with the Eagle for the Desert of Dawn—profiting nearly 14 trillion euros. But when they fell out with each other, they approached both organizations with an offer to sell. Their alliance got messy, and the Serpent Organization stepped in to prevent further damage.”
Zagh tilted his head, eyeing the three sheikhs. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he shifted his gaze to the Princess and added, “It was all part of their plan. The Serpent was just a middleman brought into the game by the Eagle and Rat organizations. Funny, isn’t it? And who was the middleman? Obviously, the second black crow… Zagh! Ha ha ha!”
Changing his tone, Zagh locked eyes with the Princess, a mysterious glint in his gaze. The Princess, wearing a proud smile, folded his hands and returned the look.
With curiosity, the Princess asked, “Then what exactly did you do that left these three fools still alive?”
Zagh smiled, picked up a glass of wine, toyed with it for a moment, then shot a cryptic glance at the Princess before downing the drink.
Everything suddenly drifted into the past…
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